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“Who is this again?”
She laughs. “Don’t tease me, Ivan.”
“What do you want?”
There’s a beat before she answers. “You.”
I tense. The urge to throw my phone through the nearest window grows stronger.
“You here with me,” she continues quickly as her jokey seduction attempt falls flat. “At lunch.”
“I wouldn’t want to interrupt the sisterly bonding.” Or be in the proximity of both Francia and a steak knife. Seems like a recipe for disaster.
“No fear of that. Anya left after the jewelry store.”
I grit my teeth. “Why is that? The plan was for the two of you to have lunch.”
“And I changed the plans,” she says cheerfully. “I want to go out on the town with my fiancé. Unless you have something more important going on?”
“Actually,” I hedge, “I am busy.”
“Too busy for me?” she asks, her voice pouty. “If you don’t want to come, I guess I could check in on how Cora is doing.”
Hearing Francia say her name sends me to my feet. My hackles rise. It’s a threat; we both know it. She’s threatening Cora so I’ll cooperate.
Which means she’s up to something.
“Fine,” I grit out. “Text me the address. I’ll be there.”
“This is going to be so fun!” she gushes. “See you soon.”
I hang up and take a deep breath. Then I crack open one eye to look at Yasha. “Just a few more days?”
“Two, tops,” he confirms. “She’ll be out of our lives soon.”
If I have anything to say about it, Francia will be out of everyone’s lives soon. The world will thank me.
24
CORA
Every single person who lays eyes on Mikhail seems to instantly sense that he’s stuffed to the brim with shit.
The people he smiles at as we walk down the sidewalk. The hostess he slides a twenty-dollar bill to so she can give us a table near the windows. The waitress who blushes when he compliments her perfume.
“Write down the name of it for me,” he tells her with a wink. “I’d like my fiancée to smell that good.”
The woman looks at me, embarrassed that my “fiancé” is flirting with her in front of me. If only she knew how much worse it could get.
Mikhail’s mask is thin. Even before I knew how deep the rot in him went, I had a bad feeling about him. I knew right away that we couldn’t get married. It was some survival instinct in me that came to life whenever he was around. A radar that wentpingwhenever I was in the blast radius of the self-centered asshole.
As soon as the waitress walks away, Mikhail leans in close. “Remember what I said this morning, Cordelia.Smile.”
Considering he burst into my room and started to talk to me before I was fully conscious, I don’t know why he expects me to remember anything he said.
Though I do, of course. It’s hard to forget when someone threatens to torture your best friend.
“Up. Get dressed,” he’d barked, throwing a dress on top of my comforter. “We’re going out.”
