“I love you, Victoria Lyanov.” I whisper the words against her lips, against that devious smile that sends equal parts fear and wonder down my spine.
Happily, she gushes, “And I love you, Maxim Vas—I mean Lyanov!”
I slap her ass just as, with a squeak, she darts off my lap and leaps into a run.
I shake my head when my recently sated dick reacts to the sight of her nudity as she streaks across the twenty-thousand-dollar-a-night suite.
There are shadows in our lives. Secrets and danger. A country to rule and a future to foster. But none of that matters right now.
Nothing.
No one.
Just her.
I get to my feet then growl, “Victoria… there’s no hiding from me,korovka…”
SIXTY-EIGHT
THE SINNER
The bleach stingsas I pour it over my hands. The first time I did this, it didn’t even do that. Just slipped off my skin like water.
Then I scrubbed them. Hard.
Tiny micro-abrasions littered my fingers so when I did it again, the bleach burned.
And it felt cleansing.
Good.
Not that I’ll ever be that again.
My eyes close for a split-second and I grab the nailbrush.
It’s gotten so bad that one of my soap dispensers has actual bleach in it now—half and half so Victoria won’t freak out when she visits.
As I pump more onto my palms, over my nails where Dyers’s blood collected and stained, where I’m sure I can still see tinges of red, my cell beeps.
The number of notifications are adding up.
I usually call my mom twice a day.
Sommer calls me at bedtime.
My dad calls once—usually to discuss a chess move on our long-distance game.
My adopted mom and a multitude of Old Ladies always reach out to me once a week, minimum.
And Priest texts me a couple times a day.
I haven’t spoken to a single one of them. Not for weeks.
Mom’s reverted to emails. I think the only reason Dad hasn’t comeup to Poughkeepsie is because I send my chess move to him every morning.
Giulia: Look, you little shit, if you don’t answer my text right this second, Amara and I are going to ride out at dawn.
Giulia: Which means she’ll bring three kittens and two dogs for you. She’s got a pony to rehome. We’ll hook that up to a trailer if we have to.
