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Slipping inside the lavish guest room, I take a moment to look around. The space is as large as my entire flat, with sturdy wood furnishings and artwork I imagine cost a pretty penny.
“Even your guests get the luxury treatment, eh? I wonder how many lives it cost to decorate a room like this,” I mutter under my breath, then slowly strip my clothing, careful not to upset my throbbing side. I drop the soiled fabric in a pile on the bedroom floor.
Then I head into the ensuite bathroom to turn on the posh rain shower head. I pause to examine my ribs in the mirror, and the bruising is quite impressive. Though it hurts to breathe deeply, I’m not too concerned about the extent of the damage. Like I told Alina, ribs will heal well enough on their own, and I don’t think they’re broken to the point of causing internal damage.
The steaming water is a godsend, I have to admit. After sleeping on the hard ground and walking for miles in the wake of getting my ass pounded by a car, it helps ease my aching muscles. I stand beneath the softly drumming stream for several long minutes and think about everything that’s taken place in the past twenty-four hours.
Most notable, it would seem, is the shift in my relationship with Alina. I can’t stop thinking about her. I must be out of my mind to have agreed to keep seeing her. Not only could it completely destroy my plans to kill Sergio, but it could easily end with a bullet in my head.
I’m an idiot.
Still, I can’t find it in me to regret my decision because now that I’ve had a taste of her, I don’t know how I’m supposed to live without Alina.
Sighing heavily, I push my conflicting emotions aside and focus on slathering my hair and body with soap. The grit and dried blood colors the water at my feet, and the suds circle slowly down the drain.
By the time I step out of the shower, I feel like a new man.
Wrapping a towel around my waist, I head into the decadent bedroom once again. A pair of jeans and a cream-colored Henley wait for me there, along with a fine pair of work boots in my size. My torn and dirty dress clothes have been removed, likely to be destroyed based on the state they were in.
Dressing as quickly as my ribs will allow, I run my fingers through my hair in an attempt to comb it out of my face. Then I head back into the hallway and retrace my steps toward the more familiar entry.
“Ah, Mishka, good. You’re ready,” Sergio says as he makes his way down the stairs.
A grave-faced, bespectacled man follows in his wake, his pinstriped suit perfectly tailored to his tall, thin frame.
“We were just heading to find you. Dr. Faraday is finished with Alina and ready to examine you,” the Pakhan continues casually, his tone indicating the doctor found nothing too worrisome about Alina’s condition.
“And your daughter is okay?” I ask, wording it carefully to put distance between me and Alina, though I can’t stop myself from ensuring she’s not badly injured.
“Aside from a minor concussion and some butterfly tape on that cut you did an admirable job of cleaning up, she seems to have survived the incident in rather good shape,” Sergio assures me.
The breath of relief leaves my lungs rather more obviously than would be appropriate if I had maintained proper boundaries with Alina, but Sergio hardly seems to notice as he and the doctor finish closing the distance between us.
“Mr. Sakharov said you were in the same car crash as his daughter?” Dr. Faraday says as he comes to stand before me. “Would you like to find a seat so I can examine you properly?” He gestures toward what looks like a sitting room off to the side of the entry.
“Thank you, but really, I’m fine,” I say. My main reason for staying was so I might hear how Alina was doing.
“Nonsense,” Sergio says, grasping my shoulder and steering me toward the sitting room.
I settle onto the couch as the doctor pulls out a light and checks my eyes for any abnormal dilation.
“Do you hurt anywhere?” he asks as he runs his cursory appraisal.
“I probably cracked some ribs,” I admit, lifting my shirt to get this over with more quickly.
The doctor presses two fingers gently to the top of my bruising and works his way down until my side starts to scream with pain. “Looks like three cracked ribs, but none have broken all the way. Not much we can do but let them heal on their own.”
I nod as he echoes my own diagnosis and treatment plan.
“No internal bleeding, then?” Alina asks as she strides confidently into the room.
Viktor follows two strides behind her, his stance casual as he leans against the threshold.
“None that’s to be concerned about,” Dr. Faraday assures her as I drop my shirt back into place.
Alina looks much better now with the blood and dirt removed from her golden locks and face. The tape is hardly noticeable along her hairline where she’s left it loose and damp from washing. She’s wearing an oversized sweater that hides her enticing curves, but her leggings show off her fit calves.
At her heel stands the same Karelian bear dog she was chasing the day we met. Boris, if I recall correctly. He watches me with intelligent amber eyes, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth as he sits faithfully by her side.
