Afterwards, she asks him to read more ofCancer Ward. She likes the way he smiles when she asks, then the way he rests his hand on her stomach when she lays her head in his lap, the sound of his voice reading as she looks at the rain pelting the windows. At some point, she puts on a Buckleyrecord while he makes more coffee. He hasn’t pushed her again about last night. She feels a quiet gratitude.
Late afternoon edges into evening. She runs a bath.
“You can get in,” Lili says, piling her hair into a bun.
Aleksandr settles down beside the bath. “I think you actually need to bathe, and not get distracted.”
Lili sniffs, stretching her leg out of the water as she lathers soap behind her knee. She doesn’t miss that his gaze follows the line of her leg. “Fine,” she says. “You can go, then. I won’t drown.”
“I don’t know, you came close last time.”
She splashes water at him, making him laugh.
Afterwards, he gives her a clean shirt—soft white linen. “I have my own clothes, you know,” Lili says, even as she rolls the shirtsleeves up.
“Suppose I like you in my clothes,” Aleksandr says, sitting on the edge of the bed. He draws her towards him. His hands—cold against her warm, bath-flushed skin—smooth up the backs of her thighs.
Smiling, Lili leans in, and kisses him; in a sudden motion, he pulls her back with him against the unmade bed. With a sharp inhale of surprise, she falls over him, and Aleksandr’s mouth meets hers, hard. She can feel his smirk, but she lets the kiss grow hotter, deeper—
“I see you are still alive.”
Lili chokes back a shriek, recognizing the familiar voice, unwelcome and exasperated. Aleksandr throws the sheets over her before she can react further, pulling her into his chest.
“I’m busy, Michael.”
“Far be it from me to interrupt, I’ll just call off the mortician.”
“Michael, go away.”
Michael does not go away. “Do you have any idea how many phone calls you’ve missed?”
Aleksandr drags a hand down his face. Lili resists the urge to laugh, as he mutters: “It’s Saturday.”
Michael frowns. “Are you well?”
“I was until you got here.”
“Saturday? Is that supposed to mean something to me? Earnings season starts on Tuesday, and you’ve been missing for almost twenty-four hours.”
From the nightstand, Aleksandr grabs his phone. Lili realizes he had it on Do Not Disturb, as he scrolls through a long list of missed calls, texts, emails. He opens a text conversation—Kara Taylor, the contact reads—making no move to hide the screen from Lili.
(9:30 a.m.) Deck’s ready for 10am review!
(10:07 a.m.) 10:30am review?
(10:45 a.m.) 11am?
(11:07 a.m.) Petrov?
(11:31 a.m.) I triple-checked, your EAs said you’re free the whole day.
(11:57 a.m.) In your inbox, you’ve got the deck (final pending sign-off), talking points, and a draft statement.
(12:03 p.m.) At the very least, I need your statement today.
(12:56 p.m.) You do realize you have to go live after we release? Not even you can just wing that.
(1:47 p.m.) Imagine what the markets will do if it gets out that you’re missing.
