19
Polina
Lev shows up at my door looking like he’s braced for impact.
I let him in anyway, which says enough about my state of my judgment. I step back, open the door wider, and watch him cross my threshold like he expects me to change my mind before it shuts.
He looks awful. His suit is rumpled, his face is drawn, and he leaves all the usual bullshit at the door with his coat. No smirk. No teasing. No line about my mouth, my temper, or the way I looked in that dress.
That scares me more than any smug comment would have. He looks like he came here to bleed out the truth.
It’s about God damn time.
I lock the door and turn to face him. “Start talking.”
Lev stops in the middle of my kitchen and watches me. He doesn’t sit, he doesn’t touch me, and he doesn’t move any closer.
“My father’s men followed you tonight,” he says.
“I know that part. Tell me what matters. For example, why were they following me?”
“They found out I’ve been seeing someone. Since I wasn’t forthcoming about who that someone is, my father went digging. I suspect they’re days away from connecting you to the Kozlovs.”
I fold my arms across my chest, so I don’t start pacing. “How long do we have?”
“I don’t know. A few? Maybe less. Once they pull the right thread, they’ll get your full name.”
I keep my face steady even though my stomach drops. “What happens when they do?”
He waits a beat, and I hate it.
“When they confirm who you are, my father won’t see you as a doctor.”
A humorless laugh slips out of me. “No one in your world sees me as a doctor.”
He works his jaw before he says, “He’ll see you as leverage against Dmitri. Or a loose end.”
The room goes deadly quiet. The kettle ticks on the stove where I left it earlier, and a car passes outside while I stand in my kitchen trying not to picture what his father does with leverage.
Panic won’t help me, so I force myself to appear calm. “What’s your plan?”
Lev looks at me like he expected me to scream first. Then he gives me an answer that turns my body cold.
“I’m taking you to Dmitri.”
He continues before I can respond, as if he knows he has one chance to get through this.
“I’ll confess the relationship. I’ll give him everything I know about the Morozovs, then I’ll ask for protective custody for both of us.”
I stare at him, waiting for the punchline.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“No.” I shake my head and step back from him. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Polina, I?—”
