And suddenly I understand something I had not let myself believe. This is not just obsession for him. Not just sex. Not just guilt. Not just possession. He has been suffering, too.
That should not make me feel better. It does.
Which is its own problem.
I look away first because I have to, because if I keep staring at him while he looks at me like that, this hallway is going to become another bad decision.
My voice comes out thinner than I want. “That doesn’t change anything.”
“No,” he says. “It changes everything.”
I laugh once, shaky and defensive. “That is a very mafia way to answer.”
He almost smiles. Then his hand lifts, slow enough to let me stop him, and brushes once along my jaw. “Tell me to leave you alone,” he says.
I know what he means now. Not for an hour. Not for the hallway.
“Really. Tell me to stop. Tell me this means nothing. Tell me you want a life with Jake or no one or anybody but me,” he says in a low voice.
I open my mouth. And nothing comes out.
His thumb pauses at my chin. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs.
And I hate that he’s right.
35
ALEKSEI
I knowbefore Sergei opens his mouth that the news is bad.
He does not come to my study at this hour unless there is blood, betrayal, or both. Anton is with him, expression set, a tablet in one hand and a paper file in the other. Neither man sits.
Good. I’m not in the mood to watch anyone get comfortable while they tell me I was right too late.
“What?”
Sergei sets the file on the desk. “We know who ordered the attack.”
My jaw tightens. “Say it.”
A beat.
Then, “Alena.”
The room goes still. I don’t move.
Of course it was Alena. Elegant. Patient. Offended. Smart enough to smile while she slid the knife in. I should have known.
“How?” I say.
Anton steps forward and taps the tablet awake. “She didn’t use her father’s men for the attack. The man from the street wouldn’t talk directly. Not at first. But he had a burner. We pulled location pings and matched them against another number that kept surfacing around the time of the attack.”
He turns the screen toward me.
A cluster of calls. Dates. Short durations.
“A second burner,” he says. “Purchased through a third-party runner in Queens. We followed the runner to a woman who works security on private events. She didn’t know who she was running for, only that the fee was high and always paid in cash.”
