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"She's seeing him?"
"Apparently." I pursed my lips. "She followed him to the bakery and forced a meeting."
Inessa's eyes flared wide. "Are you being serious?"
"Yes. Sadly."
"Jesus." She whistled under her breath. "He's not good people, Savannah."
"We're married to men who aren't good people, Inessa. I'm not worried about his job. Well, Iam.Partly. But mostly, I'm worried about the man. Who is he?"
She chewed on the inside of her cheek before admitting, "Some say he's Maxim's brother."
"’Some?’ It isn't a fact?"
"I don't think even Maxim knows the truth. Or maybe he does now. Maybe he had a DNA test done." She hitched a shoulder. "Maxim was a street rat. Born and bred in Moscow. I don't know how he got to the US. I just know that he showed up one day and Misha was with him."
"He isn't his Obschak or his Sovietnik," I pointed out.
"No. Misha is... reckless." She leaned into the counter then whispered, "They say he suffocates his victims and sits with them as they die."
"Charming habit," I groused, rubbing tiredly at my eyes. "But it isn't like I can judge, not considering Aidan's job."
Was skinning people alive better than suffocating them to death?
What a fucking question.
Though she chuckled at my words, the chuckle broke off halfway through. "Oh."
"What is it?"
"I just remembered something… Misha and Maxim are massivenoxxiousfans. When he used to drive me around,noxxiouswould always be on the stereo when I got into the car."
Unease slithered down my spine.
"It isn't unusual for us to be collected," I said, fully aware that my tone had turned cold. Bitter.
"You know, your life is fascinating to me," Inessa mused. "So different than mine, so much safer and so much cleaner, but still so dangerous. You're still a target; you still have enemies. Only, you didn't do anything wrong. Neither did your dad. He just made music that's beloved." Her brow puckered. "It isn't fair, really."
"And your path was fair?"
She shot me a weary smile. "My burden is a husband who loves me too much, Savannah. I wouldn't pity me."
"Would you pity Aspen?"
She took a deep sip of wine. "Maybe. It depends on how they met."
I grabbed my cell, and as my screen unlocked, I was faced with the graphic photos of Cassie's brutal marriage.
Spying them, Inessa demanded, "Who's that?"
"Someone I used to know."
Me:How did Aspen meet Misha?
Paris:You're not going to interfere, are you, Savvie?
Me:No. I just want to know how they met.
