“Oh, I’m fine. Hans was on direct orders to bring you your food, so I couldn’t come up to check on you yesterday.”
“It’s fine. I’m here now,” I assured her, smiling as I looked around.
The floors were no longer covered in bloodstains and boot prints, but the whole space still held reminders of what happened. Piles of glass were a few feet away from each other on the floor, and the large window openings were now covered with heavy-duty plastic sheeting. The television was no longer in its place, and the couches were covered in tarpaulin.
“I’m just glad we’re all fine,” she said.
Sighing, I took a seat at the dining table.
Liza arrived just after breakfast.
“How are you? Are you okay?” she rushed in and we threw our arms around each other. “Roman and I were in Stamford when we heard. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here earlier.”
“It’s fine,” I chuckled as we sat. “I’m glad you’re here now.”
“Oh, my God. The place is in shambles.”
“It was worse,” I told her as she dropped her bag on the dining table.
“You weren’t injured?” she inquired as Greta emerged with the carrot cake she had insisted on me trying.
“Good morning, ma’am,” she greeted.
“Good morning,” Liza replied as Greta poured some juice into a cup for her. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” I told Greta as she filled my glass, too.
Greta went back into the kitchen and Liza leaned closer to my side. “This wasn’t a random attack from some threatened cartel or a rival mafia.”
“Definitely not,” I answered, my low tone matching hers.
“Roman says it might be linked to that idiotic ex of yours, Vitya.”
“About the Bratva secrets he holds, and they’re trying to retrieve?”
“Exactly. Yes.”
I sighed.
“Let’s leave all the complicated violence to them. They surely won’t stop until they find the source,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “So, how are you?”
“I’m still a bit shaken by how the whole place is now covered in ruins. But I’m fine.”
“And Konstantin?”
“He’s fine. Busy.”
“I’m not asking about how Konstantin is. I’m asking about how things are with you two.”
I sighed. “Fine, I guess. Just…normal stuff.”
“What’s going on, Alina?” she urged.
“I don’t understand it myself, I really don’t,” I started. “I guess things are more confusing than when he used to treat me like a hostage. Now, he makes gestures and says things that make me wonder if we’re, you know, becoming friends. But he still disappears like a ghost, and then we’re back to being strangers.”
“That sounds like Konstantin opening up,” she remarked, chuckling.
“Doesn’t seem like that to me.”
