I move quickly but quietly, heading straight for the fridge and yanking the heavy door open. A cool wave of air brushes my face, and I duck my head to peek inside. There are rows of neatly labeled containers, glass bottles of sparkling water, and pressed juices. A sleek pitcher of what looks like chilled water sits in the very back.
I lift it out carefully and close the door with my hip before searching the cabinets for a glass. The second cabinet I open reveals an organized row of tall crystal tumblers. I grab one, pour, and take a long, grateful sip.
Finally.
I finish the last of my water and rinse out the glass, drying it carefully with a hand towel before placing it back in the cupboard exactly where I found it. My bare feet whisper againstthe floor as I move through the kitchen, reluctant to break the spell of silence.
Just as I reach the archway to leave, a faint noise stops me.
Peeking my head out, I find another hallway running down the opposite side of the kitchen. There’s a door that’s been left slightly ajar at the end of it, light spilling out onto the carpet in a thin sliver.
My first instinct is to turn back, but for some reason, I instead find myself moving toward it.
Maybe it’s the jetlag making me careless, or maybe it’s that annoying itch of curiosity that always gets me into trouble. Either way, I slow when I draw closer, hearing voices on the other side of the door.
I can’t understand the words from here. They’re speaking in Russian. Fast, fluid, and very pointed. The cadence alone cuts through me instantly.
Whoever’s speaking doesn’t sound happy.
No,angryis more accurate. A cold, simmering kind of anger that sits low in the voice and bubbles up in short, punctuated bursts. It’s not yelling but it still sends a shudder racing down my spine. That kind of control and the restraint in the tone makes it all the more terrifying.
Another voice responds also in Russian. It’s deeper, rougher, and just as equally tense.
My brain screams at me to walk away. To respect the closed door—even if it’s not technically closed—and mind my own business, but I don’t. Instead, I creep forward like I’m possessed, morbidcuriosity dragging me forward until I stop just before the sliver of light touches my feet.
Who would be up this late at night?
I lean over to catch a glimpse inside the room.
The room beyond is a private study. Shelves of leather-bound books line the walls, broken up by a heavy mahogany desk that dominates the far end. Soft lamplight casts long shadows that stretch and crawl across the space, a roaring fireplace flickering among the dark pockets.
My eyes move again and there, standing with his back to me near a tall window, is a man.
Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing sinewy forearms and a silver watch that glints under the light when his hand cuts through the air. One hand is braced against the window frame while the other continues to gesture sharply as he speaks to someone I can’t yet see.
My stomach knots.
He’s angry.Dangerouslyangry.
I take another step, inching forward without even realizing it. My fingertips press against the wall for balance as I shift my weight slightly, angling for a better view of the rest of the room.
The man by the window stops talking. His shoulders stiffen, his head tilting slightly as if sensing something.
My breath hitches as I freeze in place.
Slowly, he turns and suddenly, I’m staring straight at him.
Oh, shit.
Then he moves—fast.
He circles around the desk and stalks toward the door. I barely have time to straighten before it’s pulled open with a sharp yank. It startles a gasp out of me as I stumble back, trying to put some distance between us.
He fills the doorway, his presence suffocating. He’s taller than I expected, built like a soldier with a hard, lean frame. His face is carved with sharp lines, and his pale eyes seem to glow in the light from the room behind him.
They land on me and pin me in place.
“I–I’m sorry,” I stammer immediately. “I was just… I was looking for the kitchen. I didn’t mean to…”
