13
AURORA
Marisol answers on the second ring this time, which means she’s been expecting my call. We’ve settled into a rhythm over the last few weeks, with me calling Tuesday and Friday mornings. She picks up faster each time because she knows I’m alive, calling from the secure line, and she no longer needs to brace for catastrophe before answering.
“How are you?” she asks, sounding concerned.
“I’m good.” I’m sitting on the back porch of the Key Largo house with my feet on the railing and a cup of coffee balanced on my knee. The ocean is calm today, pale green under a flat sky. “I went horseback riding on the beach this week.”
“You went horseback riding on a beach…while hiding from a criminal syndicate?”
I smile. “I know how it sounds.”
She snorts. “It sounds like you’re on vacation with your boyfriend, except the vacation is involuntary and the boyfriend may or may not be in the Russian mafia.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Aurora...” She says my name with an edge of impatience after hearing this correction for three weeks. “You’re living in his house, spending his money, and calling me from his phone. If he’s not your boyfriend, what is he?”
I don’t have a good answer for that. I’ve been trying to find one for weeks, and every label I test feels either too small or too permanent. Partner implies commitment I haven’t agreed to. Protector implies passivity I’d never accept. Lover is accurate but incomplete. Adrian is all of those things and something else underneath them that I haven’t found the word for yet.
“He’s Adrian.” I say it like that explains anything. “He hasn’t tried to isolate me, belittle me, or make me feel foolish for being cautious. He asks direct questions, expects honest answers, and he’s somehow made me feel less guarded instead of more trapped.”
“You’re already talking like someone emotionally invested,mija.”
Yes, I am. That’s the part I keep circling back to during the quiet hours between phone calls, Russian novels, and training at the range. I’m emotionally invested in a man I watched kill my employer, and the investment doesn’t feel forced or manipulated. It feels chosen, which makes it harder to argue against because I can’t blame anyone but myself.
“Have you slept with him?”
I hesitate for exactly one second too long.
“I knew it.” Marisol’s voice has no judgment in it, just confirmation. “When?”
I don’t bother evading. “Twice. The first time was at the club before Dominic died. The second time was on the plane to Key Largo.”
She lets out a stifled gasp. “On the plane, with Viktor sitting right there?”
My face flushes as I remember the risk and the thrill of that. “Viktor was pretending to sleep.”
“Pretending? That didn’t bother you.” She exhales. “Okay. I’m not going to lecture you because we’re past that. I’m going to ask you a question, and I need an honest answer.”
I already know what she’s going to ask. “Go ahead.” I sound totally in control, as if the mere thought of what she’s about to ask doesn’t throw my world into chaos.
“Do you love him?”
The ocean is still calm. A pelican dives into the shallows thirty yards from the dock and comes up with a fish. I watch it swallow and take flight again before answering. “I don’t know yet. I want to, and that’s the most terrifying answer I can give you.”
Marisol exhales softly. “Yeah, it is.”
We don’t speak for a moment before she shifts to practical matters. Eric has tried contacting me more than once through blocked numbers and messages passed through former coworkers. Grigor has intercepted everything, and either Viktor or Adrian relays the gist to me. The pattern is always the same.Eric sounds reasonable and professional, and underneath every message is the same demand to let him back in.
“He’s escalating through channels again,” says Marisol. “He called the real estate office last week pretending to be a client and asked my assistant whether I’d mentioned where you were staying. My assistant told him nothing, but he got the office address confirmed. That’s not a big deal though. It’s easily available with an Internet search. The call felt more like a threat than a fishing expedition.”
My stomach churns on her behalf. “Did you tell the attorney?”
“I called her within the hour. She sent a cease-and-desist to his precinct.”
I scowl. “He’ll ignore it.”
