Page 249 of Sexting His Assistant

I say, “Nina⁠—”

“No,” Nina says. “That is exactly what I mean.”

She steps back from the desk, slower this time.

The laptop screen remains turned toward her chair.

Misha’s face remains frozen there.

She looks at it one more time, and the disbelief comes back heavier now, mixed with something close to grief.

“If your trust on your oldest friend can break so easily, I don’t think I know you at all.”

She’s standing only a few feet away, but she feels farther from me than she did when she was on the dance floor with Roman. There, I could cross the room and reach her. Now I’m standing in front of her with evidence against her brother, a dead man in my basement, and the knowledge that my next move may make her hate me.

I say, “You should go back upstairs.”

She gives a small, tired laugh. “Of course.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It never is,” Nina says.

I step closer despite myself. “You’re still recovering.”

“And you are still sending me away when things get difficult,” Nina says.

I stop.

She looks at me for a long moment. Then she says, “I don’t know how to stand beside you when the person you’re hunting is my brother.”

The words are quiet.

Straightforward.

They do more damage than anger would have.

“I don’t know how to let him disappear when every trail leads back to him.”

She nods once, but it’s not agreement.

It’s acceptance of the problem—the kind of acceptance that does not fix anything.

For a second, I think she might cry. Instead, she straightens her shoulders and turns toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

Nina says, “Upstairs.”

“I will send someone with you.”

She stops, her hand on the door handle. Then she turns her head slightly. “No,” Nina says. “I know the way.”

She opens the door and leaves before I can answer.

Pavel is waiting outside.

Nina does not look at him.