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“The driver was almost certainly working under the orders of Petyr Ivanov.”
“You weren’t kidding about the bad blood. What happened between the two of you?”
“That’s a story for another time.”
It’s hidden out of sight, but I can see the outline of the ribbed chain just underneath his shirt. It feels like there are answers there. I want to press, but he looks so scary that I decide not to push him right now.
But I do notice that he reaches up and touches his chest for a split second. No, not his chest. He grabs the dog tag at the end of his chain.
“Misha?”
“Hm?”
“You said you were a… a don.”
He nods. “I did.”
“And that’s, like, a mafia?”
“The Russian version, yes.”
I exhale heavily. “So when you say enemies…”
“I mean enemies,” he confirms. “In the truest sense of the word.”
I nod. “O-kay… I might need some time to process that.”
“Take all the time you need. In the meantime, I will speak to your landlord and move your things here.”
I feel my cheeks color with embarrassment. “I can do that when I’m feeling up to it.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“Really, I can do it myself.” I frown. “I don’t have much to my name.”
He looks at me with his unfathomably deep gray eyes. “You do now.”
19
MISHA
Konstantin enters my office with an uncharacteristically grim expression. With no fanfare, he drops down into the chair across from me and slaps a sealed envelope on my desk. “We need to talk.”
I’ve been anticipating these results for the last twenty-four hours. I could have gotten it sooner, but I wanted Paige’s background check to be thorough.
I reach for the envelope, but Konstantin holds up a hand to stop me before I can grab it. “Careful, bro. There’s a bunch of shit in there that you might not like hearing.”
I shove his hand away and snatch it up. The seal pops open easily. I slide out the folded paper inside. It’s thinner than I expected.
“She may be pretty, but your girl is no saint. She’s got some skeletons in her closet.”
I scan the single page of the report with my heart in my throat—before I realize there’s nothing to find. “What the fuck are you talking about? She is squeaky clean.”
I look up. Finally, Konstantin’s signature shit-eating grin makes an appearance. “Gotcha, bitch!” He cackles, literally slapping his own knee a few times for good measure. “Had you scared there for a second, didn’t I?”
“Sometimes, I think your mother dropped the ball by not having you tested as a kid.”
“She did, actually, but she thought telling the family I’m a genius would make them treat me differently. Plus, she didn’t want you to feel insecure.”
