I think I already knew it was coming, though. The safehouses can’t last forever, and neither can this strange in-between where I belong nowhere. Even so, the news send a small ripple of nerves through me.
“Temporarily,” he adds, watching my face too closely. “Until this is resolved.”
“Moving in with you,” I repeat, trying to make it sound casual and failing. “That sounds intense.”
“It’ll be more secure,” he answers. “And far more comfortable. There’s a lot more space in my apartment. More for you to do.”
“Will I finally get a phone?” I ask hopefully.
He frowns. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says. “But you’ll have great views of the city, an in-home theater, and a private gym.”
“I always imagined you living in Elsa’s ice palace, or something like that.”
The joke slips out before I can stop it. For half a second I brace for that familiar wall of seriousness to drop back into place.
Instead, the corner of his mouth lifts. “No,” he says. “I have far more furniture, and my guard is much scarier than her ice monster.”
I stare at him with my mouth open. Not only is he teasing me, but he’s aware of the plot ofFrozen. That’s not remotely what I expected. I can’t help the peals of laughter that burst out of me.
I haven’t laughed like that in days. Maybe weeks. The sound feels strange in my own throat, like something from another lifetime. His expression softens when he hears it. Just a little. So small I might have imagined it if I weren’t watching so carefully.
“That’s reassuring,” I say.
The air between us shifts, lighter than it’s been in what feels like forever. It’s not safe exactly. Nothing about this situation is safe, but there’s a new easiness between us. A new warmth. The tension breaks for just the smallest instance, and I imagine what our dynamic would be like if we weren’t constantly under the threat of death.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out something small and black, no bigger than a key fob. He holds it out to me, his expression serious again.
“You’ll keep this with you,” he tells me.
I take it carefully, turning it over in my palm. There’s a single recessed button on one side. It has no markings, and nothing happens when I press the button. Not in the room we’re in, anyway.
“What is it?” I ask.
“A silent alarm,” he says, watching me, before he pulls out his phone and sends a message. “It goes directly to my security team.”
My fingers still.Oops.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ve let them know it was a false alarm.”
I nod and slip the fob into my pocket. The knowledge of it burns into my skin. I can’t ignore it even if I want to, but it’s probably better if I don’t forget. I don’t want to think about how dangerous just going to my apartment for a few hours could be, but the fob doesn’t let me forget.
“If anyone contacts you,” he continues, “you press it. Immediately. Especially if it’s Kostya or anyone connected to him.”
The warmth from a moment ago cools a few degrees. Reality always finds its way back in.
“Kostya isn’t dangerous,” I say automatically, almost petulantly. “He’s just ambitious and selfish. And apparently terrible at monogamy. But he isn’t dangerous. Not to me anyway.”
Andrei’s gaze doesn’t change, but something behind it hardens.
“I’m not as sure about that. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
“He’s not a criminal mastermind,” I insist. “He’s a spoiled rich prick who makes bad choices.”
“Men like that can still be dangerous,” he says quietly.
There’s no drama in his voice. No exaggeration. Just certainty. It makes it harder to argue, even though I want to.
“I know him better than you do,” I remind him.
