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Demyen narrows his eyes at me. “If you’re so fucking sorry, tell me: why did you do it? Why did you testify against Tolya? Why did youlie?”
Again, I don’t know what to say. Not because I don’t have an answer, but because I’m pretty sure it won’t be good enough to satisfy him.
“I don’t want your fucking pity. I want your answers.” Demyen leans forward and stabs a finger onto the desktop. “I want. My brother. Exonerated.”
I know what he wants. I know that doing it, going in front of a judge and recanting my testimony, would probably get Tolya out of prison with a nice, fat reparations check for the false imprisonment. Because the more I learn about him through Demyen and the more I look at the photos while I clean or hear snippets of gossip from household staff and men I’m pretty sure have been with the family since he was a baby…
The more I’m seriously doubting Tolya ever intended to harm me, or Michael Little, at all.
But what Demyen doesn’t know is that I can’t just plop in the witness stand and take back everything I said. Not because I don’t want to.
It’s because it requires the arresting officer to attend the hearing.
And I can’t stomach the thought of challenging my father, the arresting officer in question, after I’d earned a few scars back when I gave my initial statement.
“I’m sorry.”
It’s all I can say. It’s all I can give. I stand up and wait for Demyen to bark an order at me, but he only glares at me. I move to the door, still ready for the barrage of insults and demands… but he doesn’t say a word.
So I leave.
My stomach is in knots as I make my way to the main courtyard, where I hear Willow laughing and splashing in the pool. I feel even worse knowing how much she adores Demyen. She doesn’t know the real reason why we’re here. She doesn’t know just how dangerous our situation is.
No. Not‘our’situation. Justmysituation.
Because, whatever Demyen may be, he’s a man of his word. I’ve never once seen him go back on a promise or break a deal.
If he says Willow is safe no matter what, I believe him.
And if he says I’m fucked, I believe him.
49
DEMYEN
Today has turned into a clusterfuck.
I woke up feeling eager to do somethinggoodfor a change. Not something with an ultimatum attached or some sort of quid pro quo string dangling from it.
I took Willow out to breakfast at my favorite Russian teahouse. We ate macarons and honey cake and I taught her how to curse in Russian. It worked out that the interviewing administrators didn’t know what she said but were excited that she knows something other than English.
I don’t know what I was expecting Clara’s reaction to be. Or rather, I don’t like what Iwantedher reaction to be. Because I shouldn’t fucking care either way.
And yet here we are. She’s stormed off to pout while I’m sulking in my office.
I was supposed to come home with the kid and the papers. Clara was supposed to be overjoyed and excited, and… then what? Show her appreciation by blowing me under my desk?
Fuck.Now, my dick is hard.
All I have to do to tame the beast between my legs is recall the conversation we just had right here in this spot. How she asked one simple question and I just opened up like she’s my fucking therapist.
If I’m not more careful around her, I could slip and lose everything.
I’m hitting Pavel’s name on my phone before I pull together why I’m calling him in the first place. He answers, of course, so I make something up on the spot.
“Anything new on the digging?”
“Re: Clara?” Pavel’s voice sounds like he’s shrugging. “Nothing new to report, really. We’ve been hitting dead ends and people who were talking last week refuse to open their mouths at all now. I don’t know if someone made the rounds or if they’re just scared of us in general.”
