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She gasps. “Really? You’re serious?”
“Believe it or not, I’m not a big jokester.”
“You don’t want to, like, interview me or something? I have a resume if you want to see it. I’m more qualified than I was the last time, so—”
“I hired you once. That’s good enough for me,” I snap. Then I pause and add, “You can have a raise. Ten percent more.”
Keep your friends close, and your… ex-maids-who-are-best-friends-with-your-ex-not-quite-girlfriend closer? Sure. Put that on a fucking bumper sticker.
“Oh my gosh!” She claps her hands in delight. “I could hug you. I won’t. But I could.”
“Your restraint is appreciated.”
She moves down the stairs slowly. At the bottom, she turns back around. “Is it still just you in the house?”
I bite back the easy answer:It was never just me in the house.
I still haven’t gone up to the third floor yet. I have no idea what Sonya did with Ilya’s things. She told me she’d take care of it and I left it at that.
If I don’t go up there, it’s almost like he isn’t gone. Like he’s there waiting for me.
I arch a brow, and Natalia hurries to explain the personal question. “I’m just asking because if there are more people living here, that could be more work for me.”
“I gave you a ten percent raise. No maid is worth more than that.”
“Right.” She laughs nervously, and there’s my answer.
Whether Rayne sent her here or not, Natalia is a spy. A remarkably bad one, but a spy nonetheless.
She hurries down the rest of the steps, flinging words over her shoulder like she’s afraid I might change my mind. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”
I watch her climb into her car and reach for her phone. She presses it to her ear as she turns down the driveway. Is she talking to Rayne?
I walk back into the house, doing my best to ignore the expansive silence.
Her question opened me up to the truth: I’m alone in this house. In New York, there is constant noise. While it bothered Ilya, I never minded it. Especially in the last five years. When you’re surrounded by noise and movement and lights, you don’t stop to realize how graveyard-silent your own life is.
Now, though, I’m confronted with that silence. The tapping of my shoes on the tile is the only sound.
When my phone rings, I reach for it quickly, grateful for the distraction. For some reason, Rayne’s face appears in my mind. It’s a stupid thought, which is confirmed when I see who’s actually calling.
I grit my teeth and press the phone to my ear. “Leonid.”
“You are always so formal, Kirill. We’re old friends now, aren’t we?”
Leonid Kozlov always sounds cheery, but he is no friend. Not to me or anyone else. The world exists to be manipulated by him. It’s why he tries so desperately to ingratiate himself to me. I’ll never let that happen.
“You’re calling with a purpose, I assume.”
“Having information to offer doesn’t mean we aren’t friends. Our life makes strange bedfellows.”
“I’m not inviting you into my bed, Leonid,” I drawl. “What’s the news?”
He chuckles, the sound tapering to a sigh. “Since you’re asking, it means I’m the first to tell you. Arnov Lenin is dead.”
I wince. “Sasha is in charge now?”
Leonid whistles. “You really don’t make friends, do you? I know you liked Arnov better than me, and you don’t even want to know how he died first.”
