His jaw ticked as his eyes opened and found mine from where his head rested on my lap. For a moment, neither of us moved.
“I just want to know who he is,” I said. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“You do.” He closed his eyes again.
“Then tell me. Maybe I know him by another name.” I kept my calm, which took more effort than it should have. His stillness was deliberate, and it made my fingers curl against the cushion. “Please,” I whispered. “Just tell me.”
There was a beat of silence. “How much did you hear?”
His tone carried no anger, which surprised me more than anger would have.
“Only that you’re keeping me until Luigi faces you.” I bit my lip. He opened his eyes again and looked up at me. “I know you think I’m desperate. But I have a brother, and he’s only nine years old. I—” My voice frayed at the edge, and I looked away before it went further.
He exhaled and lifted his head from my lap. “Let’s go.”
I blinked. “Where?”
“To prove you know Luigi.” He was already at the door.
I followed him downstairs until we stepped out of the house. A car sat outside. Dmitri opened the passenger door and stood beside it, watching me cross the driveway toward him.
I hesitated at the door, but he waited until I got in.
He came around, settled into the driver’s seat, and pulled away without a word. I watched the shapes moving past the window, and my fingers found each other in my lap and began theirnervous work. I didn’t know where we were going or what I would find when we arrived.
I prayed to whoever was paying attention that just this once, nothing would go wrong.
Suddenly, Dmitri’s hand came down over mine without warning, and I nearly jumped.
His eyes stayed on the road, one hand easy on the wheel. His other hand turned mine over and laced his fingers through mine. He drew it across and rested it on his thigh. It wasn’t a grip. He simply held my hand there in a comforting way.
What was this?
I looked down at his hand over mine and then at him, trying to find a category for him that fit all this. Every time I built one, he did something that didn’t fit. Behind closed doors, he called me desperate, spoke about me like a variable in his plan. And then he rested his head in my lap like I was somewhere safe to land. He walked me into a bathroom at a formal event and took me apart with his hands. Now he was holding me so well, as if I were someone worth steadying.
He was the most confusing person I had ever stood close to, and I was running out of wall space to pin the contradictions.
Chapter Thirty-one
Inna Grace
The uneasiness didn’t leave meas we pulled into a hotel. It simply changed shape.
I followed Dmitri through the reception area without slowing down. The staff noticed him and looked away. They didn’t question where we were going. I stayed close, trying to pin my thoughts into something linear, and I failed.
The elevator opened onto a quiet hallway, and we walked to a brown door at the far end. My heartbeat found a new gear when we stopped.
Dmitri rang the bell. I stepped back half a step, holding myself together by sheer physical force.
The man who opened the door was older, straight-backed. His posture carried a deference that arrived before he spoke. “Sir.”
Dmitri walked past him without acknowledgment, and I followed slowly, scanning the suite as I entered. It had the particular texture of expensive things maintained without sentiment, the room that cost more per night than I used to earn in a month.
We stopped in the living area, and Dmitri turned. “Where is he?”
“In the room, sir.” The man led us down a short corridor, opened a door, and stepped aside.
Something in me resisted, a pull that I recognized as fear before I named it. I stood at the threshold and didn’t move.
