I let out a chuckle that’s half-affection, half-sexual frustration. I love it when she gets excited about her art nerd shit, but not when I’m this fucking hard.
I shut her up by dropping my mouth to her cleavage and her protest turns to a moan.
“Paintings have never been this fucking sexy, trust me.”
I glide my hand down to her waist, pushing her dress down until it drops to the floor. Her white lacy panties barely cover her. I shove them aside and find her already aroused.
Natalia brings her hand to my hardness, rubbing against me.
“Already?”
She nods. “Please.”
When I unbelt my pants, the black piece of plastic drops to the floor, skittering across the concrete. Both our eyes follow it until it stops moving.
I know where I’ve seen that before…
Natalia’s face whitens like she’s just seen a ghost and I feel every muscle in her body tense against me.
“Leks—” she begins, then stops, like she doesn’t know what to say.
Doubt sinks from my throat into my stomach. That is a listening device. They were all over the place in Yulia’s office at the Ivanov Center. Someone’s bugged the apartment.
What makes no sense is why Natalia’s so upset about it. I’m surprised she even knows what it is.
I push her hair behind her ears and tilt her chin to meet my eyes. “Natalia, shhh. It’s okay. Do you know what it is?”
She nods, burying her face against my chest.On instinct, Iwrap an arm around her, breathing in the roses and sugar scent of her golden hair.
I want to believe that she’s only anxious that someone has listened to our private conversations, but I’ve never seen her this distressed.
Something is wrong.
Really wrong.
Natalia is trembling, like she’s scared.
I stroke her back as she sobs, making apologies that are muffled by my chest.
“Natalia, Natalia, you need to speak slowly.”
I gently pull her away from me with my hands on her shoulders.She pulls her dress back up, taking a shaky breath. Her gaze drops to the floor and she takes a long pause.
I don’t say a word to fill it. The doubt in my stomach spreads into something like disappointment.
“That one’s not active, Leks, I promise. I didn’t put any in our apartment. I told him I wouldn’t.”
“Any of what,zolotse?”
Natalia fists her hands in my shirt, her shoulders heaving.
“The recording devices. My father asked me to plant them.”
Recording devices.
The illusion of our happy life here shatters into a thousand jagged pieces.
Natalia’s been lying to me.
