While he is walking us to his car, he asks me a question.
“When we get to my home, I will ask you more questions. But I have one for now.”
“Ask me,” I say, all sheepish and tired.
“Do you really love me?” His question hits hard because hereallyneeds to know the answer. This is not the M I know, whichmakes this all the more fucking harder. Breaking his heart isn’t something I plan on doing, yet it feels necessary.
Stay focused, Lana.
“I do love you.” I couldn’t stop that piece of honesty even if I wanted to.
I do love him.
Fuck.
45
MAfter we got to our home—yes, she will be living with me from now on—I got her into clean clothes and made her some tea. We are now sitting on my bed, lying side by side. Even though Lana was honest, I have this feeling that we are not quite there yet.
What I’m sure about is how I feel about her.
When I look at her, I want to rip out my own heart so she would be alive. Nobody on this godforsaken planet would be able to run away from my wrath if they hurt her. Or tried to hurt her.
“Explain to me how your dad made you hide all these years,” I ask her.
“My father was one of the deadliest assassins, and he didn’t want me to grow up amidst all of this,” Lana inhales and exhales before continuing, as if searching for the right words. “That’s why he sent me to Switzerland to live with my aunt and to study there.”
“Wait,” I shake my head in disbelief. “I thought that you said that you were a high school dropout?” She shakes her head and purses her lips.
“I went to the Espoir International School, and then I went off to college. I graduated when I was twenty-one years old.” Lana says it so casually that it makes my eyes pop out. My little hummingbird is a fucking genius. She senses my disbelief and gives me a soft laugh.
“Are you that surprised that I am actually smart?” she asks me. I wiggle my finger at her and pinch the bridge of her nose.
“I have never thought that you were not smart or anything like that, far from it. I’m just surprised that’s all.”
“Understandable.”
“Where did you go to college?” There is only one college in Europe that has the strictest privacy rules.
“Valmont Institute.” The hint of pride in her voice is adorable, and I have never been impressed by anyone like this. The university's acceptance rate is below one percent, and it’s notorious for its student privacy practices. Files are encrypted, identities protected, and the campus is heavily monitored.
“I’m seriously impressed. What did you study?” My questions are now geared toward getting to know her, not to extract some sick information.
“I have a master's in behavioral psychology, and I specialized in negotiation under threat.” Now everything is clicking into place.
“Is that an elective?”
“No, it was on our shadow curriculum.” I blow out a raspberry after she says that. I heard that the college was shady, but notthatshady.
“I know, right?” She giggles a little bit before continuing. “The students had numerical IDs, and the campus network is isolatedwith military-grade-level firewalls. Devices were provided to us and encrypted on a hardware level.”
“And I thought that MIT was protected.”
“Don’t be hard on yourself, M. I needed to be able to trust you.” That last sentence came out like she had a tough pill to swallow. Lana quickly recovers herself by hiding her hands behind her face and shaking her head. I take her hands and remove them from her face, holding them in mine.
“After graduating from college, I came home, and it was absolute carnage.” The truth is finally coming out. I didn’t even notice that I was holding my breath in. It was like I was waiting for her to come clean.
“My father never handled my mother’s death well, and he spiraled after that. He didn’t show it, but he was hurting.”
