The room goes quieter.
I don’t move from the table. “I thought your men were following her.”
Larisa sighs, as if I’m being difficult. “I thought you had it handled.”
My jaw tightens. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the truth.” She steps farther into the room. “My man followed her to the warehouse. He saw her go in. He saw Dmitri there.”
“And then?”
“He left.”
Viktor’s eyes lift to me.
I stare at her. “He left.”
Larisa’s expression remains calm. “When he realized it was a clandestine affair, yes.”
The words land exactly as she intends.
Several men in the room go still.
Alexei mutters, “Careful.”
Larisa ignores him. “My men are discreet,” she continues. “They don’t stand outside doors listening to lovers quarrel unless instructed to.”
I know what she’s doing. Every word is chosen to cut. Every pause, every look at the ring, every mention of Dmitri is meant to feed the thing Dmitri wanted me to believe.
That Anya went willingly. That she chose him.
That I have been made a fool by the woman I put in my bed. And yet, despite that, I don’t hold a grudge against her. There’s nothing I want more than her safety, for her to be okay, to hear her say my name just once.
I love her.
The realization leaves me breathless.
I look at Larisa. “You are trying to provoke me.”
“I’m trying to make you see clearly.”
“No. You’re trying to make me angry at her.”
Larisa’s mouth tightens. “Poor girl,” she says, and there’s nothing kind in her voice. “She thought she was going to meet her love. But his ego won, didn’t it? At what cost?”
The room turns cold.
I hear one of the men shift behind me.
Viktor watches my face carefully.
Larisa wants the rage, but this time I don’t give it to her.
“You should go to your room and take some rest,” I say. “It’s been a long day.”
Her eyes narrow. “You don’t want my help?”
“No,” I say. “You’ve done enough for her.”
