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Nikita sucks in air. As I suspected, he gave me the kiss of death. He wrote me off the way his father did to his mother. He knew precisely what he said and what it meant.
“He was angry when he said that,” Cyrille suggests diplomatically.
That’s nice to hear, but my eyes are trained on Nikita. She looks surprised. Concerned. She fully grasps what’s at stake.
“I’m not sure I can do that,” I say. “Sleep with one man while I’m married to another.”
It’s the truth, but it’s not the whole truth. I stop short of saying what I’m really thinking.
That I can’t possibly sleep with one man while I’m in love with another.
Because the tragedy of our story is that I do love Misha Orlov.
That’s exactly why I have to leave.
That’s exactly why I can’t.
97
MISHA
“You got a minute?” Konstantin asks as he walks into my office.
“Only if you’ve got a location on Anthony.”
Maybe it’s a good thing my wife is holed up in my mother’s house. Now, I don’t have to worry about bumping into her in the halls here. I don’t have to be on watch for another knife in my back. Her scent is fading and my head is clearing and life as I knew it before her can resume.
“Great. Then you do have a minute.”
I get to my feet. “You know where he is?”
Konstantin nods. “He’s right here. A couple of feet outside this room.”
I grimace in distaste and fall back into my chair. “I’m not in the mood for jokes.”
“And I’m not in the mood to tell them. He walked up to the gates himself a few minutes ago. He spoke to one of the guards on duty. He asked to meet with you.”
“The man must have a death wish,” I grit.
Konstantin holds up two hands like he is trying to calm a wild beast. “I think you should hear his story, brother.”
“Or maybe I should beat it out of him.”
His cheeks redden with concern. “As your impartial advisor, I would suggest you—”
“Send him in,” I say darkly. “No promises whether he’ll survive to be sent back out.”
Konstantin wants to protest, but he knows better than to disobey a direct order. Sighing, he walks back to the door and opens it.
Anthony walks in with a bandage plastered over his nose and a nasty bruise that spreads to both eyes. He pauses just inside the threshold, waiting for my permission to intrude further into my space.
“You can leave us, Konstantin. I’ll handle this myself.”
Again, there’s that moment of pause while he weighs how far he can push me. In the end, he does as he’s told and leaves Anthony alone with me.
“I can’t decide if you’re brave or stupid,” I remark. “And since I’m pretty sure you’re a born coward, I guess we’re left with only one option.”
“I came to you to explain things,” he says in a careful tone that he’s no doubt practiced many times on the way up here.
