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Who is that? Slowing my step, I remain where I am. She hasn’t noticed me yet. I’m free to watch her and to mull over why such a beautiful woman would be here in Arsen’s home.
She’s not part of the staff, based on her outfit.
Claws of jealousy begin to grip my heart. How does she know him? What is she doing here?
“Mila, good to see you.”
Arsen is speaking from the opposite end of the hallway. The woman—Mila, apparently—glances at him, stuffing her phone in the pocket of her leather jacket. “Did you summon me just to make me wait?” she asks haughtily.
So she WAS waiting for him …
Mila twists, locking her eyes on me. “Your walls have ears, by the way,” she says with a smirk.
Choking on the air I try to swallow down, I cough haggardly, my face turning pink. I move into full view. Both of them seem entertained at my approach.
“Hi. I’m Galina.”
“I know who you are,” she replies, her face inscrutable and expressionless.
Jealousy rears its head inside me again, and I fight the urge to demand to know who she thinks she is.
Arsen comes closer, his thumbs in his belt. “Let me introduce you to Mila properly.”
I remain silent and eye her with suspicion. She doesn’t shy back from the challenge, and her lip hooks into a smirk that looks more like a sneer.
When I join them in the hall, I realize she’s two inches shorter than me. Yet Mila holds herself like she’s the biggest figure in the room. Curious about where her confidence comes from, I eye her up and down. I think she must be the same age as me, or close.
The satisfied smirk grows slightly. “You’re wondering how I know Arsen,” she says.
No patronymic, I note. The familiarity between them makes my stomach drop. Did he also take her out to a theater alone? Did she also return the favor?
I shrug as indifferently as I can as I fight back the waves of jealousy goading me to wrap my fingers around her throat. “I guess I am.”
“She’s one of my assassins,” Arsen explains.
“Mudak!” Mila huffs, rolling her eyes. “Way to ruin the game. I was having fun watching her figure it out.”
Tension fades from my neck at this news. But my relief is replaced by guilt. I shouldn’t have assumed the worst.
“Nice to meet you, Mila.” I offer her my hand. She squints at it, then gives it a squeeze hard enough that I wince. There’s an almost impossible-to-believe strength to her. But unlike Arsen, hers is understated due to her small size.
Maybe if I ask nicely, she’ll tell me her secret.
“Sorry to end this, but Mila and I have a meeting,” Arsen says. “I’ll find you after. We can have dinner.”
“I’d like that,” I reply earnestly.
Mila crosses her arms. “Don’t make me have to come finish your food for you this time.”
I’m confused by what she means. Arsen furrows his brow, avoiding my eyes before striding around the corner. Mila follows him, tossing me a finger waggle before vanishing.
An assassin. It doesn’t surprise me that Arsen employs such people. He’s desperate to win his war against Yevgeniy. Her presence is like a splash of cold reality after last night, and I’m once again reminded that none of this is normal.
Yet … something has changed. I no longer want to run away from the world inhabited by Arsen. I want to dive deeper into it and help him, not only for my own selfish reasons but because I know he’d appreciate the help.
I’m not a fighter, certainly not a killer. If I could learn more about Yevgeniy himself, maybe … maybe I could find a way to be useful!
My first venture sends me searching for Ulyana. She’s writing things down on a chart—a house schedule of some sort—in the sitting room downstairs. At first she’s pleased to see me. But when I explain why I’m there, her disposition changes.
