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I know the words coming out of my mouth are the sane, rational thing to say. It’s responsible to respect people’s privacy and let them divulge whatever secrets they may have to you when the time is right.
Like the way I’m keeping Mikhail from Ivan until the time is right. Even if I have no idea when that time will be.
“Do you have your phone?” Jorden holds out a hand and wags her fingers at me.
“Why?”
“So we can get our Google on, obviously. We need to figure out who this Katerina bitch is.”
“She’s probably no one. And probably not a bitch, either! She might be just a friend or—” I turn to Francia, knowing I can count on her to be sane. “You probably know something about Katerina, right? You know more about these people than we do. Tell Jorden that she isn’t important.”
Francia gives me an apologetic wince. “I wish I could, but I don’t know anything about her.”
“Ooh, intrigue,” Jorden hisses. She curls her fingers in my direction again. “Get your phone out.”
“Get your own phone out,” I snap back.
“I left it downstairs on the patio. Why can’t I use yours?”
“Because…” I scramble to think of a good reason. “We’re on Ivan’s WiFi. What if they can look at my searches?”
“You aren’t living in a police state. It’s your own damn house!”
If only she knew the truth.
“I have a VPN,” Francia blurts suddenly.
Jorden spins towards her, her dress splaying out around her legs. “A what?”
“A VPN. It keeps my searches private. It’s for my job.”
“You’re a waitress,” Jorden deadpans.
Francia pulls out her phone. “Myotherjob. What do you want me to look up?”
“Nothing,” I say.
At the same time, Jorden rattles off what she wants Francia to type in the search bar. “Katerina Ivan Pushkin Los Angeles.”
Jorden hovers over Francia’s shoulder as she types. Both of them stare down at the phone as Francia scrolls through the search results.
“You two do whatever you want. But I don’t want to hear a thing about it,” I lie. “If Ivan wants to tell me about her, he will.”
Lie, lie, lie.
Ivan doesn’t owe me anything. Honesty about his past relationships, least of all. Maybe if we were in a real relationship I’d demand more information from him, but as it is… The fact he is keeping me alive is enough. Itshouldbe enough. I won’t ask him for more than that.
Then Jorden gasps.
I can’t help myself. I spin towards them. Jorden is looking down at the phone, eyes wide. Francia is looking at me with something like fear in her eyes.
My willpower crumbles under the weight of my curiosity. I’m about to nosedive off the moral high ground and wallow in the mud of internet gossip.
Then the door opens.
“We have a visitor,” Anya says, peeking her head in to be sure we’re decent.
Ivan follows her. “I can’t be a visitor in my own house.”
