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Jesus, I still see stars when I think of his mouth on mine.
But I also know it meant nothing to him.
I give my head a little shake. He doesn’t deserve a moment more of my thoughts. Tossing a squeaky toy towards Eris, I kneel down to collect the papers strewn across the floor. I make quick work of it, glancing at each piece of paper as I pick it up and add it to the pile in my hands. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but I hope I’ll know when I see it.
But they all contain numbers. Random numbers that do not make a lick of sense to me. The numbers are organized into columns and rows, but with no words, how is anyone supposed to interpret what they mean? After ten minutes of organizing and sorting, and doing some extra tidying up, I have found nothing of value. Or at least what I think could be of value. I decide to take a few sheets anyway, folding them in quarters, and stuffing them under the back waistband of my pants.
Deidre contacted me last night and asked for an in-person meeting this week. While we communicate using the FBI’s encrypted messaging platform, face-to-face meetings are preferred and much less risky. She wants an update, and I’d like to give her something—anything—to go on. Because as it stands, not only do I have no leads for her, I also don’t really know Daniil. He’s still barely more than a stranger to me.
“What’s going on?”
As if I conjured him with my thoughts, he stands in the doorway to his office, all six-foot-something of him, looking stern and menacing. I startle at his presence, pressing a hand to my chest. The reaction is one hundred percent real, but what I say next requires all my acting skills.
“The dog,” I say rather breathlessly. “She got into your office. Sorry about that.” A muscle ticks in his jaw as his eyes land on the stack of paper in my hand. “Just tidying up the mess she made.”
He’s quiet for a few moments. Staring at me. Assessing. It takes major willpower not to allow my eyes to wander from him. Looking away would be an admittance of guilt. Maintain eye contact, don’t swallow, keep your breathing normal—it’s what Deidre instilled in me right from the start.
I must be convincing enough because Daniil nods and purses his lips. “This dog needs training,” he gestures towards Eris, now pawing at his leg. “Nadia texts me daily updates about his bad behavior.”
My back stiffens. I don’t know what I find more offensive, that Nadia texts him on the regular, or that she tattles on my dog. “Is that why you're home in the middle of the day? To check up on my dog?”
His lips twitch. “That’s not why. But you have to admit, Eris is trouble.”
“It’s not her fault.” I straighten, feeling stupidly defensive of my dog whoI named chaos. “She’s still a puppy. The breeder said she would calm down when she’s older.”
He moves farther into the room, like a panther stalking through his kingdom, and pointedly takes the papers from my hands, laying them on the desk. “Her behavior will improve when you send her to obedience school. How did she get in here, anyway? I always leave the door closed,” he grumbles, but his eyes are on me. My throat, my mouth, my entire face. This master poker player is studying me, watching for my tells.
I fight the urge to swallow. “Nadia must have left the door open when she was cleaning earlier.”Lie.
“I’ll talk to her about that.”
I smile even as a nervous shiver trickles down my spine. “I’m sorry if Eris messed up anything in here. I’ll watch her more closely,” I promise, hurrying to scoop up my dog.
Daniil seems to accept my explanation at face value, which is both comforting and alarming. Have I become that good a liar? The papers shoved down my pants are burning a hole in my lower back, and I need to head to my room so I can compose myself, because right now, I’m feeling way off balance.
Before I can make a hasty exit, he crooks a finger at me and growls, “Come here.”
I turn slowly, my mouth dry, my heart in my throat. “Why?”
“Because I want you to.”
A bead of sweat runs down my back. “That’s not a good enough reason,” I challenge, fighting to keep my voice steady. I hug Eris tighter to my chest knowing if I put her down, he’ll see the tremor in my hands.
But then he does something surprising. He buries a hand in his hair and gives it a little tug. That’s his tell. He’s nervous about something. “Fine,” he grits. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more. I told you I was working with Días, and… there’s stuff going on.”
I wait for the other shoe to drop. For him to call me out on my subterfuge. But instead, he blinks down at me, waiting for a response. Shit. Is Daniil nervous about apologizing to me? He doesn’t strike me as a man who says sorry very often.
I lean against the doorframe and rub behind Eris’s ears. The motion is as soothing for me as it is for her. “Like what? What stuff is going on?”
“Nothing you have to worry about.”
I roll my eyes. I hate thatdon't worry your pretty little head about itbullshit. “That’s not helpful,” I say before huffing out a breath of frustration.
“Fuck,” he bites out under his breath. “I’m not good at this. I… I can’t tell you everything that’s going on. It’s the way it is being married to a vor. I’ll tell you what I can when I can.”
I nod because I don’t trust my voice right now. Concerned my eyes are mirrors into my lying, scheming soul, I let my gaze drop to his lips. And what a fine pair of lips they are, that defined Cupid’s bow. Just pouty enough to still be masculine. And soft. Perfect, really. The memory of his lips on mine still plays in my head often.
Too often.
