“I’m fine,” I say automatically. I press my lips together and shake my head slightly. “No. I’m not fine.”
She doesn’t interrupt or rush in to fix it. She just watches me the way she does when she knows I’m about to say something I don’t want to.
“I’m pissed,” I admit, the anger burning just beneath my ribs. I fold my arms, then unfold them again because the motion feels defensive. “And I’m trying not to let that turn into me doing something stupid.”
Her shoulders straighten almost instinctively. Her fingers curl briefly against the edge of the desk before relaxing.
“And I’m worried about Kiren,” I add, my voice lowering despite myself. “If they’re bold enough to pull something like this, he’s going to react.”
I swallow hard. “And when he reacts, people get hurt.”
For a moment, neither of us fills the silence that follows.
“And I don’t have the luxury of losing control right now,” I finish, my hand moving briefly to my abdomen without thinking. “Not like this.”
Her eyes drop to where my palm rests, and her expression changes briefly. It’s not pity or fear, but something closer to protectiveness.
Then the other thought rises.
“Ivan.” I don’t soften the edge in my voice.
Her eyes lift immediately, finding mine.
“What’s he doing here, Lila?”
She exhales through her nose and looks toward the door before answering, as if checking to make sure it’s still closed.
“He’s connected,” she says.
I tilt my head slightly. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the one I can give you,” she murmurs.
“That’s not good enough.”
She bites her lip and crosses her arms loosely, a gesture she only uses when she’s holding something back.
“This isn’t what you think.”
“I don’t know what to think,” I answer, and this time I don’t try to soften it. I lean forward in the chair, planting my feet flat against the floor so she can’t look past me like this is manageable. “I just know he walked in like he was expected to be here.”
Her lips flatten into a thin line. “That doesn’t mean?—”
“It means he wasn’t surprised,” I cut in. “It means he didn’t look confused or like someone who stumbled into a situation.”
My pulse is climbing now, not from fear, but from the anger I’ve been holding since the warehouse floor.
“He wasn’t coming to rescue us,” I note. “He walked in like he’s part of this.”
Her fingers tighten against her sleeves. “That doesn’t automatically?—”
“And you’re with him,” I snap.
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” I ask. I stand and take a step closer, neither aggressive nor retreating. “You looked surprised to see him. But you also didn’t look shocked.”
Her throat works as she swallows audibly. “I didn’t know he would be here,” she says, and this time she doesn’t look away. “I swear to you, I didn’t.”
