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He pulled a hand through his hair. “It’ll be tough, but I’ll talk to Kate and see when we can reschedule the premiere.”
“I suggest you make it sooner than later. The family wants to put this behind them.”
“I understand. I suppose you’ll be on the lookout, in case Godfrey decides to attend.”
“Of course. Let me know when you’re available.”
Ivan cut the call and handed the phone back to Maya.
“I want to go with you,” Alice said.
“As much as I hate being away from you, I’d prefer you stay here with protection.”
“I’m not a target, Ivan.”
He felt like a jerk for not telling her what Boris had said, but why stress her more than needed? She had enough on her shoulders as it was.
“I’m not asking for your permission.” Alice walked to the oven with an air of defiance and removed the cake. “Excuse me. I’m going to freshen up.” She left the room with her head held high, more regal than the queen herself.
“Nice girl,” Maya said, staring after her.
“She’s not nice.” He could still feel her presence lingering. “She’s perfect.”
Maya walked to the door. “Nice ass, too, by the way,” she called over her shoulder.
He went to the guest bathroom to clean up and when he got back, Alice sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea.
She motioned at the pot. “Would you like a cup?”
“No, thanks.” He kissed the top of her head, already sorry he had to leave. “I have work to take care of.”
She smiled, but there was a small tremble to it. “I know.”
He took her hand. “We didn’t have time to talk about what happened.”
“That a medium ended up dead or that you failed to tell me you’re a necromancist?”
“I couldn’t tell you.”
Hurt flashed in her eyes. “You didn’t trust me?”
“I protected you.”
“Did you always know?”
“I didn’t find out yesterday,” he said evasively.
“In school,” she persisted, “did you know?”
“Would it have changed how you felt about me?”
Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Yes.”
The single word bowled him over. He’d expected many things from Alice to still shock and surprise him. She’d grown from a girl into a woman, after all, but to like him less for what he was? That would be a low blow.
Her next words hit him even harder.
“I loved you, Ivan. If you’d told me, I would’ve also trusted you. I may have even respected you.”
“Damn you, Alice. Don’t you dare throw your trust and respect at me like old bones. I tried to make it easier for you.”
“No, Ivan. What you’re saying is that you didn’t trust me then, and you still don’t trust me, now.”
“That’s really what you want? You want the fucked-up reality of my life?”
“Just the reality. I can do without the profanity.”
He took a step away from her. “From now on, that’s what you’ll get—the ugly truth, cold and hard.”
“Wouldn’t that make for a change?” she asked softly.
He had nothing to say to that. Not feeling one damn bit better, he walked from her warm house and slammed the front door behind him. His life had never been a bigger mess.
If Alice wasn’t so important to him, he would’ve cancelled the performance and let the theater sue him, but she had a chance to go on stage and prove her worth. When Nicolas prompted him to find her, he’d fantasized about claiming her and bringing her back into his life. Ultimately, he wanted her safe and out of harm’s way. He hadn’t bargained on Nicolas’s underhanded dealing to involve Cain or Melissa ending up dead.
When Donald offered to drive him home, he declined. Tonight, he needed a walk to clear his head. People he passed on the street exploded in vibrant light, but nobody resembled the rainbow he craved. He tried his best to ignore the voices that followed him down the road. He strolled along the river until he’d lost track of time and the traffic gradually died down. Only when his legs were too weary to carry on did he head into the direction of The Ritz.
Passing a newsstand sometime after midnight, he stopped dead in his tracks. The Times early edition was out. The beat of his heart slowed in shock, and then it started hammering in rage.
Chapter 12
With the newspaper in his hand, Ivan rushed up Alice’s street. The SUV was still parked out front. Before he made it to the gate, the car door opened and Lann stepped out.
“Is there a problem?” Lann asked with a heavy Russian accent.
“Personal,” Ivan said. “Stay out of it.”
He banged on the door until footsteps came down the stairs.
Alice opened the door, pulling a bathrobe tightly around her body. “What’s going on?”
“This.” He pushed the newspaper in her face and backed her up into the entrance.
“Ivan, I—”
“Are they still here?” He looked up the stairs.
