Page 188 of Sexting His Assistant

Instead, I look at her and lower my voice. “You are not my prisoner.”

Her expression does not soften, but she listens.

“I know you can leave if you choose,” I say. “I also know Karpov approached you in a crowded room because he wanted me to see it. He wanted you unsettled, and he wanted me angry. I’m angry. That’s true. But I’m not letting you get into a random car tonight because both of us are too proud to end an argument properly.”

She folds her arms. “I didn’t say random car.”

“You said cab.”

“Yes, because I was mad.”

“I know.”

“And because you were being awful.”

“I know that too.”

That quiets her for a second.

I step back, giving her space because she asked for it earlier and because if I don’t start respecting that now, I’ll lose the right to ask for anything from her later.

“I will drop you off at home,” I say. “No argument. No interrogation in the car if you don’t want one. But you’re not leaving this venue alone.”

Her eyes search my face. “Is that an order?”

“No,” I say. “It’s me asking you not to make tonight easier for my enemies because you are angry at me.”

She looks away first, toward the dance floor where Roman had been, then toward the entrance where my men are spread out too late and too carefully.

“He said things,” she says, my words having reached her.

My whole body stills.

She looks back at me before I can ask. “I’m not ready to talk about all of it here.” She pauses. “And before you accuse me again, no, I’m not protecting him. I’m trying to understand whether he was lying, manipulating me, or telling me one useful thing wrapped in ten poisonous ones.”

“What useful thing?”

Her mouth presses together, then shakes her head. “Not here.”

I hate it, actually.

But I believe her more than I did one minute ago.

That doesn’t mean I trust the silence. Trust is not a thing I have in easy supply.

Nina asks me to trust her, and some primitive part of me resists because trusting her means accepting that I can’t control every danger around her.

It means she can keep something from me and still not be my enemy.

That’s a harder lesson than it should be.

“All right,” I say.

She blinks. “All right?”

“I’ll wait.”

“For what?”