Page 189 of Sexting His Assistant

“For you to tell me.”

Suspicion crosses her face. “You’re not going to threaten someone in the bathroom while I’m gone?”

“Not unless necessary.”

“Luka.”

“I’ll behave for the next fifteen minutes.”

“That is not long.”

“It’s a generous opening offer.”

Despite herself, her mouth moves upward into some sort of half-smile.

Before I can say anything more, my phone vibrates in my pocket.

Pavel.

I don’t answer. I turn the screen away before Nina can see it, because old habits are hard to kill. She notices immediately, and the almost-smile disappears.

“Why?” she asks quietly.

“What?”

“That. You hide things automatically.”

I look at the phone in my hand.

She’s right. Again.

I turn the screen so she can see the name. “Pavel.”

Her gaze drops to it. “Security update?”

“Probably.”

“Take it.”

I study her. “You just accused me of hiding things.”

“And now I’m telling you to answer the call. Growth for both of us.”

I answer the phone and speak briefly to him before I turn to her. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”

I guide Nina toward the lobby with my hand at her back and my attention on every exit.

The gala continues behind us as if nothing has changed. The music is still playing, glasses are still being lifted, and people are still smiling with the hard patience of the wealthy. No one here wants to see danger unless it arrives in a form they can gossip about over breakfast.

Nina walks beside me without speaking, and that bothers me more than I want it to.

She’s angry. I know that. She has every right to be.

We’re almost at the entrance when two men step into our path.

Kirill Antonov and Oleg Taran.

Of fucking course.