Page 212 of Lethal Obsession

“That sounds nice,” I say softly, swiping at a stray tear on my cheek.

“I’m not done here yet,” he says. “And no matter what I do, our world will always be out there. But I think I can carve out a safe place in it for us, if you’re willing to face it with me.”

“Always,” I say quietly. “I told you this was always forever for me. I meant it then, and I mean it now.”

“I love you.” Alexei groans. “And you have no idea how much I miss you, angel.”

“Oh, I think I do.” I smile at myself in the mirror. “Especially since right now I’m in bed, wearing nothing but—”

“Don’t,” he says hoarsely. “If I picture you like that, there’s no chance I’ll be able to shoot straight when the time comes. Fuck.” He breaks off abruptly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Yes, you should have.” I quell my internal fear and answer without hesitation. “It’s the world we live in.”

It’s no small effort to keep my emotions out of my voice. I can imagine, with far too much accuracy, the kind of bloodshed he’s about to face.

And I also know the last thing he needs right now is for me to bring it up.

“Go,” I say instead, forcing my voice to remain calm. “Do what you have to, Alexei. I love you. When you get back, I’ll be here, waiting.”

I laugh softly.

“But I’m going to warn you, a priest might be waiting, too. Now that I know you actually want this, I don’t plan to let you wiggle out of it.”

“You’re smiling.” Darya gives me a quizzical look as I join her on the terrace.

“And you’re up early.” I take a seat and pour coffee from the French press on the table. The sun is new on the horizon. The morning is just cool enough to require a shawl over my sundress, and the sea is pale and still. Dew clings to the bougainvillea, and the air is rich with citrus.

It smells like hope.

“Your father woke me up. He just called.” Darya tucks her knees up to her chest. “He didn’t say it in so many words, but I’m fairly certain that whatever they have planned is being put into action some time today.” She frowns. “Or should that be tonight? I lose track of the time difference.”

“It’s just after midnight there now, so I imagine that means we won’t know how it went until this time tomorrow.”

She nods. “It’s going to be a long day.” Taking a deep breath, she glances at me across the table. “The last time Roman made a phone call like that from Miami, he was going in to rescue you and Masha. That was a long day, too.” She smiles at me. “But it ended well. Let’s hope this one does, too.” She looks at me more closely. “You don’t seem surprised at Roman’s news.”

“I’m not.” I’m unable to stop myself from smiling. “Alexei called this morning.”

“He did?” Darya’s legs drop from the chair, and her entire face lights up. “Oh, Ofelia.” She comes around the table and hugs me close. “Oh, thank goodness,” she murmurs into my hair. “I’m so relieved. And happy. For you both.”

“Thank you.” I cling to her, unable to prevent the tears coming down my face. “They’re happy tears,” I manage, half laughing, when she wipes them away with her shawl. “I’m fine, honestly. I just—I wanted to tell you before Benny comes out for breakfast.”

“Tell her what before I come out?”

We both swing around to find Benny standing on the stone steps. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and his clothes are hanging off his already lean figure. I’ve grown accustomed, since the explosion, to the absence of his smile, but today his grim face hits me especially hard. It’s difficult not to feel guilty about being happy when Lars is still in a coma. Benny spends every day at his bedside. He’s there so often the nurses have stopped enforcing visiting hours. More than once I’ve left him at the hospital late at night, asleep in the chair beside Lars’s bed, his head resting on Lars’s unresponsive body.

“Did something happen?” He looks between us, fear rising in his eyes. “I knew I shouldn’t have left the hospital—”

“No, no—Lars is fine,” I say instantly, crossing the terrace to take his hands. They’re cold and limp in my own, as if his own life force is weak. “There’s been no news from the hospital,” I say gently. “I’m sorry if I alarmed you.” I lead him to the table, and Darya pulls out a chair for him.

“Have some coffee,” she says, pouring him a cup.

“And eat something.” I push a plate of brioche col tuppo in front of him.

Benny stares at both the cup and the pastries without touching either. “They said they’d stop sedation after ten days,” he says hollowly. “Today is day ten.”

Has it really been only ten days since the bomb on the yacht?

It feels like an eternity.