“How did she react to it?”
“She didn’t,” Kirill said. “At least not in front of me. She’s not new at this, Lucy. When I tell her not to react to whatever news she hears about me and play her part, she plays her part.”
“She didn’t look like the grieving widow to me when we met her at the funeral line. She looked like a damsel expecting you to save her.”
“You sound jealous.”
I scoffed. “In what way do I sound jealous? It’s my neck on the line too.”
“Exactly. Keeping you in the dark about what Anya knows was a lapse in my judgment. I’d apologize, but I wasn’t expecting you to leave my side.”
The audacity of this man to put the blame on me. “I was hungry and in danger of collapsing.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Low blood sugar.”
“How was I supposed to know about your medical condition?”
“It’s not a medical condition; it’s how my body reacts to a lack of food.” Or a consequence of my sugar-laden choices.
He looked as if he wanted to argue some more but thought better of it. “Then, I apologize for my dismal oversight in your care.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t have to be dramatic.”
“It’s not being dramatic if I’m not taking care of my future bride.”
It would have sounded sweet if not for Anya’s declaration of her bond with Kirill. I kept that to myself. I knew better than to give him any inkling that I was jealous. Knowing Kirill, he wouldn’t hesitate to use it to his advantage. How many scandals had I seen involving jealousy?
Besides, we had pressing problems to deal with. “What are we doing about the Kings?”
He eyed me contemplatively, eliciting a chilled skitter up my spine. Anxiety reminiscent of the feeling when the cardiothoracic surgeon exited the OR to tell us whether or notDad’s surgery was a success. But Kirill didn’t have a trace of sympathy on his face. Chilling remoteness carved his features into stone and sucked all emotion from his eyes. “We’ll move up the wedding.”
Chapter
Nine
Lucy
The absurdityof that statement made me snort a little laugh. “That’s insanity. We have three weeks to go, and we still haven’t ironed out the prenup.”
“Our lawyers assured us the draft will be done by Monday. We should drop the wedding announcement on Sunday.”
“Ooh, no. My dad will never agree to that,” I argued. “What’s the rush anyway? Are you afraid the Kings will pressure Anya to pursue an investigation?”
I had the sense not to say “precious Anya,” but my fixer mind was trying to find a way out of Kirill’s ridiculous suggestion. Besides, I was still trying to wrap my mind around my impending nuptials and the unexpected end to my singlehood.
“I was thinking about us. You. You’re on their radar now and I don’t like it.”
Nice. Showing concern for me, but I wasn’t an idiot. “You know who my family is, right? The Kings wouldn’t dare raise a stink without proof, and from what I can see, you’ve done very well with compartmentalizing who knows what exactlyhappened, but quickie marriages always raise suspicions.” Like pregnancies. But in our case, it was foul play. “And a month is already pushing it. We have not done any follow-up to my overnight at your house a week ago.”
“Why, are you suggesting a sleepover?” Kirill smirked. “Because I’m open to it. I’d prefer it if you moved into my residence entirely.”
“No,” I said. “I’m suggesting more public appearances leading up to the wedding. Trust me, that’s a no-brainer even if I weren’t a fixer. In our case, the best solution is not to hide from the public.”
Kirill didn’t answer but looked out the window. We were close to my parents’ house. He punched a button for the speaker to the driver. “Sato, drive around for a while.”
“Got it, pakhan.”
