Viktor notices. “Our vehicle.”
I nod once.
I climb out after Viktor stops in front of my building. He follows beside me as we head through the lobby, while his attention moves constantly around us. A couple walks past carrying takeout containers and laughing quietly to each other, completely oblivious to the massive Russian security man escorting me through the building like I’m a government witness.
The elevator ride upstairs passes in silence except for the low hum of machinery. When the doors open onto my floor, Viktor steps out first and scans the hallway before nodding once toward my apartment.
I stop outside my door while digging my keys from my purse. “You don’t have to stand out here you know.”
“I’ll wait here until you’re ready to leave.”
I stare at him while unlocking the door. “That sounds exhaustin’.”
“It’s my job.”
“That answer is becomin’ deeply irritatin’.”
The corner of his mouth lifts like he’s almost amused, but the expression disappears quickly.
I step inside my apartment while Viktor remains out in the hallway near my door. As soon as the door shuts behind me, exhaustion crashes over me so hard that I lean back against the wood with my eyes closed. The silence feels strange after the nonstop stress surrounding me all day.
A few seconds later, I kick off my shoes, push away from the door, and head straight for the kitchen. The cold beer waiting in the fridge feels like the closest thing to emotional survival available right now. I twist the cap off and take several long gulps standing there barefoot beneath the dim kitchen light while cool air spills from the refrigerator around me.
It helps. Not enough, but enough that my shoulders loosen for the first time since the market. Then I set the bottle down on the counter and head toward the bathroom.
I shower hotter than usual, standing beneath the spray long enough for steam to completely fill the room while my thoughts race in endless circles again. The market. The man saying my name. Alexei refusing to let me walk away. The warning written across Ivy’s drawing.
I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my hair. My mind continues spinning. Then my stomach twists so intensely that I brace one hand against the sink while staring at my reflection in the fogged mirror.
This isn’t normal. None of this is normal.
And somehow, I’m still getting ready to go to Alexei Agapov’s mansion like that sentence belongs in my life.
Sweet baby Jesus.
I change clothes three separate times before finally deciding on dark jeans and a light pink cotton top that feels casual enough not to look ridiculous while still making me appear slightly more composed than I actually feel.
My phone rings while I’m brushing my hair.
Mama.
Relief moves through me as soon as I answer.
“Well, hey there, baby.”
The sound of her voice loosens a knot inside my chest so fast it almost hurts. Background noise from the diner hums loudly through the phone. Normal sounds. Safe sounds.
“Hey Mama.”
“You alright?”
The question comes right away, which tells me my voice already betrayed me.
“I’m fine.”
“Mhmm.” Her tone turns knowingly skeptical. “And I’m twenty-five.”
A tired smile pulls at my mouth. “You always know.”
