Sergei picked it up, glanced down at the screen, and I sawthe shift in him. The softness from earlier vanished like it had never existed. His jaw tightened, his shoulders squared, and his expression darkened.
“Da.”
The Russian rolled off his tongue easily as he answered the call. He listened for a few seconds before responding in the same language. I couldn’t understand any of it, but I didn’t need to. His tone told me enough. He replied with short, clipped answers. Whatever was being said on the other end wasn’t a casual check-in.
Sergei’s face hardened further, a hint of danger flashing in those green eyes, which looked lighter in the daylight. Then, just as quickly, the call was over. He hung up and threw his phone onto the bed. Silence stretched between us for a beat before he looked at me.
“Something came up. I have to go.”
Of course you do. You do whatever Morozov tells you. Including covering up the murder of my husband.
I tilted my head slightly, studying him, testing. “You can’t stay?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral, almost casual.
Sergei’s expression flickered like he was thinking about it. Then he exhaled, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “I really can’t.” His voice was rougher now, like he didn’t like the answer any more than I did. “I have to take care of some business at the club, but I’ll be back.”
Unless Maxim wanted him for something else.
Just like that, the hesitancy was gone,replaced by the reminder of why I had to do this. Because of him.
Maxim Morozov.
He had taken Brad from me.
He was going to pay, and I was going to use his own man to bring him to his knees.
12
SERGEI
What should have been the perfect opportunity to change Leo’s opinion of me turned into a complete mess—one that felt suspiciously like karma finally catching up. I’d walked out on men after sex before. More times than I could count, and it had never bothered me. It had nevermeantanything. But this was different.
For the first time, I didn’t want to leave. I found myself hesitating at the door, thinking about what cameafter. About how a man might feel when the other one simply walked away like it had all been nothing. And I knew, with certainty, that if I left Leo like this, he would retreat. He would shut down, pull whatever fragile thread we’d just built clean out from under me, and convince himself that what happened between us meant nothing.
Men didn’t sleep with their accused husband’s killer unless it meant something.
Since Maxim’s call, Leo had gone quiet. Withdrawn. Distant. Like he’d stepped back behind a wall I couldn’t seethrough. A faint crease had settled between his brows, and he avoided my gaze as we stood near the door, his arms folded loosely across his chest like he was holding himself together.
I didn’t like it. Not one bit.
“I’ll check on your car while I’m out,” I said, crouching to tighten one of my shoelaces, more to buy myself a few extra seconds with him than because they actually needed tying. “Find out if it can be salvaged.”
No response came from him. I straightened slowly, brushing my hands against my thighs as I looked at him. He gave a small nod, but it felt detached.
“I can handle the insurance if it comes to that,” I added, trying again. “You won’t have to deal with any of it. Just get some rest and eat something.”
Another nod.
That was all from him.
I exhaled through my nose, my jaw tightening as I studied him. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Not after what we’d just done. Not after the way he had looked at me, the way he had kissed me and touched me.
“Leo.” His name came out firmer than I intended.
His eyes flicked up to mine, and they were vacant. Had I already lost him?
“I’ll try to wrap this up quickly and come back,” I said, softening my voice this time.
A heartbeat passed, and then, “You don’t have to rush back on my behalf.”
