“You married her without giving her an apology,” he continues. “You were wrong.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I mutter, rubbing my jaw.
A corner of his mouth twitches, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I hope you both survive this,” he says. “You’ve got too many enemies already. There shouldn’t be a crack in your marriage. Not now.”
I stare out the window, the city blurring past, Konstantin’s address glowing on my phone screen like a destination and a warning all at once.
I don’t respond.
Konstantin lives exactly how I expect him to.
Small building. Nondescript façade. No cameras in plain sight, but I know better. The kind of place you forget the moment you turn the corner. The kind of place men like him choose on purpose.
He opens the door before we knock.
Just…opens it, steps back, and flicks his fingers in a lazy gesture. Come in.
The apartment smells faintly of smoke and metal and something sharp. There’s a single lamp on. No art. No personal touches. A couch. A table. A laptop already open, screen glowing like he’s been waiting.
He motions to the couch.
I don’t sit.
“I need your help.”
Konstantin studies me for a beat, eyes flicking over my face, my posture, the tension coiled too tight to hide.
“This about your business?” he asks calmly.
“So you’ve heard.”
“I didn’t hear,” he says. “I watched it coming.”
Something in my chest tightens. “Meaning?”
He leans back against the counter. “Your wife met Viktor Mikhailov. The night we were at the bar.”
The words land wrong.
My brow furrows. “You saw her?”
“I did.”
For a second, I don’t know whether to be angry or impressed. Both, probably.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Konstantin shrugs. “Because I wanted to see what you’d do when it mattered. I don’t get information by tattling, brother.”
My jaw tightens. “That’s not an answer.”
“It is,” he says flatly. “You hurt her.”
The statement is casual. Not accusatory. Just…fact.
“You knew about that too.”
He rolls his eyes. “Sebastian, if I look hard enough, I know what you’ll eat in three days. I know which of your investors cheat on their wives and which ones cheat on their taxes.” A pause. “Information is my language.”
