Page 274 of Sexting His Assistant

“For now,” a man says.

I turn.

Oleg Taran stands a few feet away in a dark coat, hands in his pockets, watching me like I’m something he ordered and found slightly damaged on delivery.

Beside him is Kirill Antonov.

I recognize him from the gala immediately. The smug smile is gone now. He looks tense, excited, and angry all at once.

Meredith moves to stand near them.

Oleg looks at Misha, then at me. “He’s been difficult.”

I stare at him. “Let him go.”

Kirill laughs. “That is not how this works.”

“Let him go,” I say again, because I cannot think past the blood on Misha’s face.

Oleg steps closer. “Your brother had a choice. Unfortunately, he made the wrong one.”

I think of every morning at the office. Her passing me files. Her reminding me of meetings. Her asking if I had eaten during late nights. Her making jokes about Luka’s impossible schedule. All that time, she was watching me. Measuring me.

Using me.

Oleg says, “Tie her.”

The man drags me to another chair.

I kick once, catching his shin. He swears and shoves me down hard. Pain bursts through my head. For a second, the warehouse blurs.

“Nina,” Misha rasps.

I freeze.

His voice is rough and almost unrecognizable, but it is him.

I twist toward him. “Misha.”

His head lifts an inch. His eyes are barely open. “Don’t,” he says.

Tears roll down my eyes.

I hate that they get to see it. I hate that Misha has to see it.

The man ties my ankles to the chair legs. Then he cuts the plastic tie at my wrists only to bind my hands behind the chair with rope.

I test the knot once. Too tight.

Meredith notices. “Don’t waste your strength.”

I look at her. “Don’t talk to me like you care.”

“I don’t,” she says.

Her answer lands like a slap.

Oleg smiles faintly. “That is not completely true. Meredith cared a great deal. That was part of the problem.”