I push myself up and turn to face my best friend, stopping her from speaking.
“Emily,there's something I haven’t told you. The guy in the penthouse I slept with? He's my boss. I had no idea when I applied for the job, but he owns the company I now work for.”
“Your boss?” Emily's brow knits in confusion.
I'm trying to be patient, but it's hard.“Yes. His name is Dmitri Smirnov. He’s the guy I slept with that night.”
Emily's eyes widen until I don't think they can get any larger.
“Holyshit, Clara.TheDmitri Smirnov?The guy Dean's unit has been investigating for suspicion of being a Russian mob boss?”
I cringe.“Itsounds so terrible when you say it that way.”
But it is terrible.
“Whydidn't you tell me?”Hurt flashes across her face.
“BecauseI was embarrassed. This guy has some sort of power over me. My knees get weak whenever I’m around him. It's precisely what I didn't want to happen after Dean. Where the hell did myself-respectgo? I'm not the kind of person to hook up with random strangers.”
I squeeze my eyes shut against the tears that threaten to fall. This is bad. This is really bad.
“Whatam Igoing todo?”The words come out with a softwail,because I genuinely have no idea what I'm going to do.
Emily doesn't have any answers for me. Instead, she pulls me in for a hug,squeezing me tightly, lettingme know she's there.
“We'llfigure it out. We always do. And I'm right here with you every step of the way.”
I squeeze her back, but I don't say anything. I really hope she’s right about us figuring it out. I'm just not so sure this time. She and I got into a lot of stuff back in college and have been through a lot since. But this? This is the worst trouble I've ever found myself in, and I have a feeling I have no idea just how bad it can get.
12
CLARA
My mind is spinning after a sleepless night, but at least I'm not throwing up.
After Emily left, I threw the pregnancy sticks in the trash and tried to forget about them. My best friend had offered to stay, but I told her I needed time to think. All I've done since is dive further and further into my personalwhirlpoolof worst outcomes.
I stride to my office, hoping I canjust holeup and work, then leave at the end of the day without having to talk to anyone. I know I look rough—the mirror in the elevator showed dark circles under my eyes and pale skin.
I make it halfway through the day before I get a call fromDmitri'sPA, asking me to come to his office. I debate whether or not to tell her that I'm not feeling well and heading home, because he is the last person I want to see, but I don’t want him to think I’m avoiding himornot up to the challenge.
As I step into his office with all thebravadoI can muster, he takes one look at me and asks, “Areyou okay?”Concern crosseshis face. “Did something happen last night? Is Dean bothering you again?”
I shake my head, regretting the movement when my stomach jumps.“I'mfine. I just ate something that didn't agree with me and was up most of the night.”
Dmitri'smouth forms a thin line. He's not sure whether to believe me, and his blue eyes search my face.
“Doyou need to see a doctor? I have one on call.”
Of course he does.
“I'mfine, really. I'm just going to finish out the day, go home, and get some sleep.” I'm a little puzzled byDmitri'sconcern. “Is this a mob boss thing? You take care of your people?”
“What?”
“Idon't understandwhyyou're so concerned. What business is it of yours?” I know I sound irritable and frustrated, but I'm exhausted. I don't feel well, and I have this enormous secret that feels like it's hovering above my head for everyone to see, a secret that will completely upend my life.
I watch asDmitri'sexpression changes from confusion to annoyance.
