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Misha is sitting in front of me, his long legs stretched out in front of him off the end of the bed. My fingers knead and work at the knots in his shoulders, but it’s been twenty minutes and he’s still tense.
“My fingers are going to fall off if I keep this up.” I slump against the pillows and pull him back against my chest. He is warm and heavy against me as I run my fingers through his hair. “You seem distracted today. Is everything okay?”
“Everything is—” He sighs and lets the almost-lie of a sentence die. “I received something. But it’s taken care of now.”
“What kind of ‘something’?”
“A threat from Petyr.”
My heart jolts in my chest, but I try to remain outwardly calm. If Misha isn’t worried, I don’t want to be worried. “Is that why Klim came to visit yesterday? Was he checking in on the threat?”
“No.”
He’s holding out on me, I know it. He just doesn’t want to stress me out.
I lean forward and press my lips to his neck. He arches into me, softening in my arms. “Klim seems… interesting.”
“I don’t want to talk about Klim while you’re kissing me like that,” he growls.
I smile and look into his eyes. “Then I’ll stop. Tell me about him.”
Misha sighs. “Klim should have retired years ago. The man doesn’t want to admit he’s past his prime.”
“He seemed fond of you.” Klim spoke briefly about Misha as a little boy. He seemed almost like a grandfather-type figure.
Then I kept catching him staring at my breasts, and I realized he might not be quite that wholesome.
“Trust me; it’s not fondness. It’s a perverse sense of nostalgia. I remind him of a time in his life when he was still useful.”
“I’m sensing some hostility there?” I guess, smoothing my hands over the rippling muscles of his chest. He feels like a washboard under my fingers.
“I don’t take kindly to being told how to run my Bratva. Or my life.”
“Did he say something about me?” I surmise.
“No, not really.”
I roll my eyes. “Which means he definitely did. It doesn’t matter what he said, Misha. Don’t let him get inside your head.”
Misha pushes off me and twists around so that we’re facing each other. “He isn’t inside my head. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a point.”
“A point about what?”
He grabs my hands, squeezing them between his large fingers. “You’re vulnerable right now. Petyr knows you’re alive. He also knows that you’re my Achilles heel. He’s going to try to hit me where it hurts.”
“You’ve taken every precaution to protect me, Misha,” I remind him. “I’m safe. This mansion is a fortress.”
“Even a fortress can be breached,” he mutters.
He mumbles something else, and I think I catch the words “The Wolf,” but I’m pretty sure I’ve misheard. I don’t know how a wolf would get mixed up in this business.
“Petyr is not going to get close enough to me to do me any harm. I have tons of people watching me at any given moment. There are guards and cameras, extra layers of protection ready to step up as soon as one fails. I’m safe.”
He meets my gaze, and I can see an idea forming there. He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to share it with me, though. Instead, he presses a distracted kiss to my forehead and gets off the bed.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“I have some things to sort out. You should get some rest.”
