I recognized Kirill’s tone. He was hanging on by a thread, but why? I was safe. Aralina was safe. He should be hugging me and kissing me.
“Can we get out of this creepy attic, then?” I whispered.
“It didn’t seem creepy to you when you recklessly left with Theodore King and entered this mansion. You didn’t even stop when you saw the carnage on the stairs.” Kirill finally released me, took a step back, and scraped his face in frustration.
He was pissed, but I also caught his fear and frustration.
I smiled at him tentatively. “I’m okay.”
“You…how can I trust that you won’t do something this foolish again? Should I lock you up in a tower? Just FYI, the thought crossed my mind.” He advanced on me, but I didn’t quail. Kirill was ragey, but it came from a place of profound concern for me. Dare I even say, love? “I’ll keep you on an island, hmm? Not even your beloved Trevor can find you!”
I squinted at my husband. “This has gone on long enough. Why are you so fixated on Trevor?”
He erased the distance between us. “Why?” he enunciated. Eyes blazing. “Why?” he repeated. “I’ll tell you why. First. You work with him closely. In a basement where I have no way ofreaching you. Second, when we had that fight? He helped you escape!” His voice rose. Then, as if he realized he’d lost control, he turned away and started pacing. “And thirdly...” By this time Kirill was breathing hard, like he’d just completed the 100-meter dash. A ferocious look darkened his face. One I couldn’t decipher. He wasn’t mad at me. He was mad at himself. Maybe for his ridiculous jealousy.
He pinned me with a glare. “When you finally woke up from your coma, his name was the first word out of your mouth.”
My stomach dropped and my heart cracked open imagining how betrayed Kirill must have felt after sitting by my bedside for days, waiting for me to wake up. “No…”
“Yes.”
“I said hi.” I struggled to remember that moment when I opened my eyes. “Seeing your face…I was so happy to wake up and see your face, Kirill. At no time was I thinking of Trevor.”
“You must have dreamt about him,” he grumbled, but he stopped pacing and stood motionless. I knew what to do. My dear husband was waiting for me to soothe him. He appeared haggard. Skin stretched tautly across his angular face, the sharp blades of his cheekbones and jawline starker than usual. And his eyes were drowning pools of chilling turbulence.
“I don’t remember dreaming during my coma. Something else must have triggered it.”
This time I was the one who erased the gap between us, and I gently laced our fingers. “You kept this all to yourself the whole time?”
“It wasn’t your fault,” he gritted, looking everywhere but into my eyes. Like he was embarrassed for feeling this way.
“I really don’t know why I said his name first,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”
He exhaled heavily and finally,finally, he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me to his chest. “Not your fault,”he repeated. “Sloane and Bianca were visiting, and they were talking about the Mistress Strangler?—”
I stilled, that worry, guilt, and confusion I was feeling for saying another man’s name upon waking up quickly dissipating. My semi-conscious brain probably made the connections even then because I’d discussed the case with Trevor. “Oh…then…I feel better.”
“You feel better about saying his name?” Kirill raised a brow, but the aggrieved look on his face had lessened.
“If I recall right, there were times I struggled to open my eyes and I heard voices sometimes, and music, but I didn’t dream about Tre?—”
“Let’s not mention his name ever again.”
I clamped my mouth shut, but I couldn’t help the corners of my mouth kicking up.
“But I have other things to say to you.” He held me tighter.
I sighed happily. He was about to tell me I meant the world to him. “You find the most fabulous place and time to tell me these things, Kirill Zahkarov.”
His gaze sharpened. “We’re going to discuss your recklessness.”
Oh shit.
The ringing of the phone interrupted the oncoming lecture. It appeared Kirill recognized the ringtone because he immediately answered it.
He listened intently. “We’re on our way back to Manhattan.” Pause. “Okay, New Jersey then.”
Ivan and Irina’s house.
