Page 36 of The Lies Between Lovers

“Good,” Vaslav grunted as he pushed away from the gun and up from the ground.

“You aren’t done,” Igor said, glancing between Vas and the targets down below the hill. “I was just getting into it.”

Vas gestured at the gun with his right hand. “You’re welcome to it, comrade.”

Igor looked him up and down. “What’s wrong?”

Oh, nothing much.

He shrugged ... well, tried. “Seems my left arm has gone numb.”

Entirely.

From fingertip to shoulder.

That couldn’t be good.

11.

“Bella, bellissima!”

The jeer from the passing man accompanied his gawking stare that lingered a second too long on Vera where she relaxed poolside. He said something else she couldn’t understand, after which he licked his lips, and nodded her way like he wanted a response.

Behind her opaque sunglasses, she glared back at the man, but otherwise, didn’t respond as he continued on by her reclined lounge chair. Italian men had little to no problem offering any woman a compliment if they thought it was deserved, but that didn’t mean Vera had to like being leered at like a piece of meat on display just because she wanted to wear a white bikini and sit beside the pool.

Barely a minute later, Hannah finally joined her friend. Although, unlike Vera, Hannah plopped down in the lounger beside hers with a sheer wrap draped over her shoulders, a wide-brimmed, floppy sunhat blocking the bright rays from her face, and a pair of tightly laced runners on her feet. All of which told Vera that her friend had no intention of getting in the pool that morning.

“I slept in again,” Hannah said in a sigh, propping her chin up in her hand.

“Could be the bottle of wine you downed last night.”

Hannah seemed more concerned with scanning the scattered residents of the Milan apartment lingering around the pool than giving Vera’s comment any attention. It wasn’t as if Vera thought Hannah had a drinking problem, really. Wine was just the one way her friend chose to relax and blow off steam. The one glass at dinner could easily turn to a half of a bottle by the time desert was brought to the table, and by that point, a person might as well just finish the damn thing off.

Which Hannah did.

Who wouldn’t sleep in after that?

“Is your mom gone?” Vera asked, glancing Hannah’s way.

“Yeah, she’s got a magazine thing ...” Hannah waved a hand flippantly, adding, “A shoot for an interview. Or something.”

“You should really consider getting your own place especially if you plan to stay in Milan.”

“I should.”

“But?” Vera pressed.

Because she heard the but. Even if her friend didn’t say it.

Hannah shrugged under the flimsy, flowing fabric of her shawl, smiling just a bit. “I mean, the building has great security, Ma is only around a couple of days a week, and I’m still trying to figure out things, you know?”

“I guess.”

The bob of Hannah’s throat when she swallowed told her friend that she had forced back words she didn’t want to say. It only took one word, though, for Vera to really understand why Hannah had yet to leave the Milan apartment she now called home alongside her former supermodel mother.

“Viktor,” Hannah muttered, indifferent.

“Has he even left Russia since the divorce?”