The woman in the painting and me—we were worlds apart.
"Whoa, who is she?" Rihanna looked stunned, too. "She looks like a Hollywood star. One of Kirill'srelatives?"
I didn't answer. Terrible unease coiled around my heart like a snake.
While I drowned in self-doubt and panic, heavy footsteps suddenly echoed behind us.
Fast footsteps. Urgent. Carrying suppressed fury, pounding on the expensive corridor carpet with dull thuds.
I whipped around, my heart leaping into my throat.
Kirill stood in the doorway.
He still wore that black tailored suit, his tie hanging loose around his neck—clearly just rushed back from somewhere. But his face held none of the warmth I'd hoped for, much less the smile from last night that made me blush.
His expression was terrifyingly dark. Those gray-blue eyes blazed with cold light in the shadows, fixed on me and Rihanna—or more precisely, on the painting behind us.
In that instant, the room's temperature plummeted to freezing.
Rihanna froze too, still holding a book, not daring to move. "Uh... hi? Mr. Orlov, we were just—"
"Leave."
Just one word. Not loud. Not even shouting. But that ice-cold venom squeezed through his teeth scared me more than any scream could.
I shuddered, like someone had dumped ice water over my head.
"Kirill, I—" I tried to explain, stepping toward him to take his hand. "We just wanted to see—"
"I said get out!"
"Who gave you permission to come in here?" He stared down at me, voice cutting like a blade. "Who gave you permission to bring some random trash into my study? Where the hell do you get off?"
How could he call my best friend that? Courage I'd never felt before surged from my chest. I lifted my head and met Kirill's cold eyes directly.
"She's not trash." My voice shook, but I said it. "She's Rihanna. She's my best friend. I invited her. I brought her in. If you want to blame someone, blame me. Don't talk about her like that."
Kirill's eyes went colder, like he was looking at an idiot who didn't know her place.
My face burned instantly. Shame blazed through my entire body. He'd crushed my dignity to dust in front of my friend.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Rihanna looked ready to cry, pulling at my arm. "Harper, let's go. Come on."
Rihanna dragged me stumbling toward the door. Passing Kirill, I couldn't help glancing up at him. Hoping to see even a flash of regret or hesitation.
He didn't look at me.
The heavy oak door crashed shut behind us with a boom that shook the entire corridor.
Rihanna leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, face pale. "Jesus... I'm sorry, Harper. This is all my fault."
I stood there, hands gripping my skirt so hard my knuckles went white. Tears pooled in my eyes, but I bit my lip hard, refusing to let them fall.
"Harper..." Rihanna looked at me carefully, voice full of sympathy and awkwardness. "Are you okay?"
Of course I wasn't okay.
I knew it was my fault. I shouldn't have gone into his study without permission. Shouldn't have brought my friend in without asking.
