"Already working on it." He pauses, his expression shifting to something almost sympathetic. "There's more."
Of course there is.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out, his face going carefully blank as he reads the screen. When he looks up, I see something in his gray eyes that makes my blood turn to ice.
"One of the photographs just leaked to the press. The one of you and Aria on the sand." He turns the phone so I can see the screen, and my vision tunnels. "It's already trending on social media. Every news outlet in the city is running with it."
I stare at the image blazing across his phone. Me and Aria tangled together, her face buried against my neck, my expression devastated with tenderness. Our most intimate moment, now a weapon being used to destroy us both.
I know there's no way around this. I have to tell Aria.
31
ARIA
Iwake to cold sheets and an empty bed, my body still humming from last night's desperate coupling. The memory of Nikolai's hands on my skin, the way he whispered my name like a prayer, makes heat pool low in my belly despite everything. I hate how my traitorous body responds to him, how even now I can feel the ghost of his touch on my thighs, the way his fingers dug into my hips as he claimed me with an urgency that bordered on violence.
But I also remember the tenderness afterward. The way he cradled me against his chest and pressed kisses to my temple, his fingers tracing protective circles on my stomach where our child grows. That version of him, the one who emerged on the island, still exists beneath the cold Pakhan exterior. I've seen glimpses of it in unguarded moments, when he thinks I'm not watching.
I force myself out of bed, my hand instinctively moving to my stomach. The subtle swell is more pronounced now, impossible to hide in anything but the loosest clothing. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I reach for it with fingers that still tremble slightly from exhaustion.
Maya's name flashes across the screen.
Can I stop by? Need to talk to you about something.
My stomach tightens with familiar dread. The last time Maya needed to talk, she was asking for money with a bruise blooming around her eye. A bruise Nikolai insisted was fake. I type out a response, my jaw clenched.
Come by in an hour.
I shower quickly, the hot water doing nothing to ease the tension coiling through my muscles. When I emerge, wrapped in one of Nikolai's shirts that hangs to mid-thigh, I find a note on the bathroom counter in his precise handwriting.
Had to handle something. Back by noon. Don't leave the house without security.
The command makes my teeth grind, but I can't deny the flutter of warmth in my chest at his concern. Or is it possession? With Nikolai, the line between the two blurs like watercolors in rain.
Maya arrives exactly an hour later, and I open the door to find my sister looking almost healthy. Her cheeks have color, her eyes are clear, and she's wearing clean clothes that actually fit. But it's her face that makes my breath catch in my throat.
The purple-black bruise that bloomed around her eye has vanished completely. Not faded. Not yellowing with age. Gone. Not even a trace of discoloration remains on her pale skin.
"Hey," Maya says, her smile bright but her eyes darting past me into the house. "Can I come in?"
I step aside wordlessly, my mind racing through possibilities. Makeup. It had to be makeup. Nikolai was right, and shameburns through my chest like acid at how easily I believed her performance. How many times have I fallen for her manipulations? How many lies have I swallowed because I was desperate to believe she was getting better?
"Your eye," I say, my voice flat. "It healed remarkably fast."
Maya's hand flies to her face, touching the unblemished skin. Her expression shifts through several emotions too quickly to catalog. Surprise. Guilt. Calculation. "Oh, yeah. It wasn't as bad as it looked, I guess. You know how bruises can seem worse than they are."
"Bruises don't disappear in three days, Maya."
"Well, this one did." Her voice takes on that defensive edge I know too well. "Why are you interrogating me? I thought you'd be happy I'm healing."
I cross my arms over my chest, the oversized shirt bunching at my elbows. "Was it even real? The bruise?"
"Of course it was real!" Her voice rises, indignation flooding her features. "How can you even ask me that? After everything I've been through, you think I'd hurt myself for attention?"
The words echo Nikolai's accusation, and I feel something crack inside my chest. "I don't know what to think anymore. You've lied to me so many times."
Maya's face crumbles, tears springing to her eyes with practiced ease. "I can't believe you're saying this. I came here because I needed my sister, and you're accusing me of being a liar."
