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Ivy squeezes harder. Maggie wraps both arms around her and closes her eyes. I watch Ivy cling to her and struggle to remember what this place felt like before she arrived.
Mrs. Bennett appears from the hallway carrying a basket of folded laundry.
“Good Lord, child. Let the woman breathe.”
“No.”
“That wasn't a suggestion,” Mrs. Bennett says.
Maggie laughs. “I'm okay with the no.”
Mrs. Bennett smiles. “You're both impossible.”
Ivy releases Maggie and runs toward me.
“Hi, Papa.”
“Hello, solnyshko.”
She wraps her arms around my waist. I lift her into my arms, brush a kiss against her cheek, and hold her for a moment before setting her back on her feet.
“I missed you,” she says.
“I missed you too.”
Winston chooses that moment to appear from nowhere and begin dancing around Maggie's feet. Daisy follows at a slower pace while Ivy launches into a rapid explanation involving crayons, a missing sock, and a disagreement over cartoons.
The details hardly matter. Maggie listens as though each one is the most important thing she's heard all day.
I find myself watching them long after Luka steps to my side.
“He's awake,” Luka says, keeping his voice low.
My attention remains on Maggie. She looks up as though she feels me watching, and our eyes meet across the foyer. The smile she gives me is small and worn around the edges, but it's real.
Ivy takes her hand and tugs her toward the living room. I watch them disappear around the corner before focusing on Luka.
“Stay with them.”
Luka nods once. “Of course.”
The guest house sits near the rear edge of the property beneath a canopy of old oaks. Roman insisted on building it years ago for privacy. Tonight, privacy isn't the purpose. Tonight, it holds answers, or at least the possibility of them.
Viktor falls into step beside me as we cross the grounds. The main house glows warmly behind us, and my mind goes back to the foyer. Toward Maggie, the way she leaned against me in the SUV, and the look on her face when she admitted she hated what had happened to her apartment.
The memory disappears when I step through the guest house door. Business demands my attention.
The man sits at the kitchen table when I walk in. Dried blood stains the collar of his shirt, and one eye is swollen nearly shut. A bottle of water rests in front of him.
Two of Roman's men are in the room with him. One stands near the doorway while the other stands against the far wall. Neither speaks.
The man looks up when I enter, and fear flashes across his face. Not because he knows my name, but because he understands exactly why I'm here.
I pull out the chair across from him and sit. Viktor remains near the wall.
The man swallows audibly. “I already told them everything.”
The lie is too fast. Most people think lies become convincing when they're delivered without hesitation. The opposite is usually true.
