At the sound of the locks on the door turning, I turned and shook. I trembled, my knees wobbly as I tried to keep a strong posture.
This was it. He was coming to kill me. Or sending someone to execute me.
All those precious moments of submission and intimacy hadn’t mattered to him at all. They couldn’t have if he wouldn’t believe that I chose him over my name, my family, my uncle.
But it wasn’t Andre. Or Oleg.
Anya stood there at the door. She frowned at me and looked me over critically. After licking her lips, she let her shoulders sag. “How could you?” she asked.
“Which part?” I asked. I had no idea what she was told. Only the ugliest truths mattered now. Our friendship wouldn’t weather this storm.
“How could you hide it all for so long?” She stepped into the room, holding up a hand to ward off the two Orlov guards behind her. “I thought we were friends. I thought…” She furrowed her brow. “I thought we were becoming friends, and all that time, you couldn’t have told me? You didn’t see me as an ally to trust and help you?”
I hung my head, touched that she’d care. Impressed that she’d want to be near me even now. “To helpme? A Giovanni—the Orlovs’ rival?”
Andre had explained how estranged she had been for most of her life and how she was still learning and adjusting to the Mafia life. She wasn’t aware of all the intricacies of our politics yet.
She rolled her eyes. “Your uncle. Your uncle is the rival and the enemy. You’re just caught up in this mess.”
“You’re sweet to suggest that, but?—”
“I’m notsuggestinganything,” she snapped, using that sassy tone that I bet all teenagers had by default. “I’m telling you thatyouare too sweet to be anyone’s enemy. You care too much to be this ‘bad guy’ about this spying business.”
“How…” I shook my head slightly. “How do you even know any of what went down?” I peered around her. “Did Andre talk to you? Or did he send you here to… harass me?” He hated me, and by default, she should too. I was lost.
“Claire snuck into Mikhail’s office to send a copy of some recording to herself,” she whispered. “Don’t tell.”
I couldn’t help a weak laugh.Don’t tell. Funny.I was sick of “not telling”.
“We heard your confession. All of it. And I’m stung that you didn’t think to tellmeor Claire, or even Natalie about how stuck your cousin is and how you were forced here and—” She sucked in a deep breath and shook her head, as if physically stopping her ramble in place. “We need to go.”
My jaw hung open. “What?”
This teenager was trying to break me out?
“We need to go.”
“You meanyouneed to go? Because your brother will be furious that you’re talking to me and seeming to side with me and?—”
“No.Weneed to go. You had that appointment with the hospice to sign the papers for your cousin. To have her moved in as you planned.”
I blinked rapidly, stunned. “Anya. I don’t think Andre will approve?—”
“Then I’ll borrow Roman’s philosophy of it being better to ask for forgiveness than for permission.” She gave me a small smile.
I shook my head, so surprised she’d care. “Anya, no. I refuse to let you put yourself in danger or anything like that on my behalf.”
She rolled her eyes.
Renee strolled up and eyed the two guards, then Anya. She wasn’t impressed.
I instinctively held my hands up. “I’m not doing anything.”
She harumphed. “Of course, you’re not.”
Is that a vote of confidence? Or… what?
“I’m taking Sofia to the hospice.”
