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I scrunch my nose, then mutter under my breath, “I bet you didn’t think they were short when you were stalking me.”
“I heard that,” he says as I turn around and head to the changing room.
Of course, he did. It’s like he has superpowers when it comes to these types of things.
Still, I grin at his tone and the way his gaze keeps following me even as I walk away.
At the checkout, I slip a few dresses between my other purchases behind Adrian’s back. He only hands her his card and doesn’t care for what’s in the bags.
Outside the boutique, Boris offers to take the bags for me. I tell him I’m fine, but Adrian practically yanks them from my hand and shoves them at his guard.
He’s impossible sometimes.
We get chocolate milkshakes and sit on a bench. Or more like, Jeremy and I do. Adrian just watches us with rare satisfaction as we slurp in unison. Soon after, Jeremy says he has to use the bathroom and Adrian takes him, leaving both Kolya and Boris with me outside.
I stare at them. “Aren’t you tired of standing all day?”
“We’re fine,” Kolya grunts.
“You’re really as grumpy as Yan says.”
He lets out a sound that resembles a scoff but doesn’t say anything.
“I feel bad for leaving him at home.” I sigh. “Do you think he’s all right?”
“The doctor said he’s healing and he’s moving, so it should be fine.”
“Maybe I’ll buy him something…”
“Please don’t.” Kolya stares at the bathroom door.
“Yeah, don’t,” Boris agrees. “Unless you want to witness his murder at Boss’s hands.”
I roll my eyes and continue slurping from my milkshake.
“Lia?”
My head turns to the side at the familiar voice. Stephanie, the choreographer from New York City Ballet, walks toward me at a brisk pace.
Boris gets between her and me, his frame shadowing her petite body.
I stand up. “It’s okay, Boris. Let her through.”
He begrudgingly moves and she joins me, her gaze wary as she observes the two guards. I can’t help the smile that moves to my lips at the sight of her. “Hey, Steph.”
“Hey, girl!” She hugs me and I do the same before we pull back and sit down. “Look at you, alive and well. I thought you left the country.”
“No, still here.”
“Married, too.” She points at my finger.
“Yeah. I also have a five-year-old son.”
“Whoa. You changed, Lia. If Philippe were to see you, he’d be weeping. He always said you were his only muse and nothing would change that. He was depressed after…what happened.”
I smile a little. “Have you guys been well?”
“You know, the usual.”
