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He runs a hand through his dark hair. His chest strains against the buttons on his shirt. His curls fall in light waves over his forehead.
“You’re not afraid of me in the same way as the rest of the world.” He dips his head, catching my eyes. “You’re not afraid to be honest. Why?”
I set my chin. “Because nothing about you is going to surprise me. I’ve known men like you. I was raised by one.”
“I take it that’s not a compliment.”
“It’s not a compliment or an insult. It’s just a fact,” I tell him. “My dad gave me the same hot and cold routine. The same way you brought Gram and Ashley here to make me think you cared about me, but then threatened them? My dad would give me candy and then make me feel guilty for spending all of his money on myself. He’d give me love and attention just so he could snatch it away later as a punishment.”
“And that’s what you think I’m doing.”
“That’s what Iknowyou’re doing.” I’m speaking to myself as much as to Timofey. I need to internalize this. I need to convince myself that he can’t be trusted if I’m going to survive this. “You’re mad at me for talking to Akim behind your back and burning down half of your kitchen. I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. For this flirty, caretaker schtick to fade away and the truth to come out.”
“Saving you from burning alive isn’t part of some grand scheme, Piper.”
I gnaw my bottom lip between my teeth. “Everything is part of your scheme. My dad was the same way. He could use anything—situations, feelings, possessions. I just…I want to give you as little to work with as possible.”
The silence between us stretches until I have no choice but to look up. Timofey is watching me, something unrecognizable in his eyes.
As quick as a blink, it’s gone.
“I have to go.”
“Why?” I blurt before I can think better of it. “I mean—where are you—never mind. I guess you don’t have to tell me anything.”
“At risk of being compared to your father, I have to go order dinner for the two of us. The kitchen is out of commission, in case you forgot.”
I nod. “Sorry. I didn’t meant to hurt your—”
“You can’t hurt me, Piper.”
Timofey turns and leaves me alone. It ought to feel isolating. But for the first time since we met, I’m positive he’s lying.
34
TIMOFEY
She deserves to eat alone.
I know enough about fucked-up fathers to know I don’t ever want to be anything like that. Comparing me to her own is spitting in my face. It pisses me the hell off.
Then I remember the way she looked standing in front of me, my shirt drooping off her narrow shoulders and hanging low over her thighs. In some ways, it was even worse than seeing her in the barely-there tank top.
Since the moment she entered the picture, Piper has been one big wrench in my plans.
My phone rings. I answer it without seeing who it is.
“What?” I bark into the phone.
“Sounds like you’re in a good mood,” James Rooney says.
“All the more reason for you to get to the point so we can hang up.”
He sighs. “I’d hope for a little more gratitude considering I just cleaned your house.”
Cleaned your houseis Rooney’s cheesy little code word for “covered up a crime.” I don’t need to ask to know he’s talking about the murder of the Albanian gunrunner last night.
Fuck. Was that really just last night? It feels like it has been days. Weeks. Lifetimes.
