“And what did you tell him?”
“Anya, I’m not an airhead.” I wasn’t sure how much she knew about my involvement in Bruce’s death. That I was there. “I told him to look elsewhere for information.”
Relief crossed her face, and her shoulders relaxed.
“Jeremiah King…sounds familiar. King Industries?”
“Yes, they’re friends of the Davenport family and grew up with my husband,” Anya said in a low voice. “The only reason Bruce’s family isn’t launching into further investigation is because I threatened to expose Bruce’s affair.”
“But it’s not stopping the Kings?”
“They’ve been asked to let it go.”
“I don’t think they have,” I said. “It probably doesn’t help that you were fawning over Kirill earlier.”
“Despite how I felt about Bruce in the end, I am grieving. Kirill always gave me comfort.” Her eyes flashed. “It pains him to hold back because of malicious people like you.”
“Like me?” My temper flared. “Anya, you realize you’re talking about my future husband.”
She gave a tinkling, mocking laugh. Dammit. Even she made that look sultry.
“That shows you how far Kirill is willing to go to protect what we have,” she said. “Why do you think he put a time limit on your marriage?”
“He didn’t.” He mentioned a year at the minimum, but I was petty enough to put doubt in the woman’s head.
Unperturbed, Anya said, “He is doing all this to protect me. Kirill and I have a bond you will never share with him.”
“If you say so,” I gritted. “It’s too early to say.”
“He will come back to me in the end. And we’ll have everything,” she sighed. “Maybe we can be friends, Lucy. I might even fix you up with a good man after this is all over.”
“I doubt it,” I told her. “We can’t be friends because you’re despicable to behave this way at your husband’s funeral.”
“Whatever.” She walked toward the door. “You’re naïve. You don’t get to judge me for what I have done to survive.”
She pulled open the door. “Now I have to return to my guests.” Her mouth twisted. “To play the grieving widow.”
When the door closed, all the blood had gone to my head. My face was burning like a furnace, and I itched to hurl the heavy volume law books at the door.
I looked around the dark wooden paneling. This didn’t look like an office with secrets but merely a library to retreat to. A simple desk stood at the center with a vintage green banker’s lamp. I read that they were mostly green because it gave a calming effect.
“I feel sorry for you, Bruce,” I muttered. My phone buzzed. It had been buzzing for a while.
Kirill
Where are you?
That was five minutes ago, about the time I was busy stuffing my face with food.
Did you walk into a ditch somewhere?
Asshole.
Lucy?
Answer me!
You should know better than to wander off. I better not find you snooping
