“No jokes. Tell me the truth.”
“She wants better clothes.”
“Of course.”
She huffs. “She’ll wear what I get for her. That’s final.”
“I’ll never argue with you, Viktoria. I know better.”
“I share the same respect for you, Pavel Sergeyevich.” She gestures toward the spare room near the library. “Will this be good enough?”
I nod. “It will.” As I walk away to my office, I look over my shoulder. “Tell me if they discuss anything unusual.”
***
Dusk settles over the city and casts a violet hue over my penthouse office. It’s smaller in here, not as lavish as the one downstairs, but it feels just as cozy. I’m staring at the skyline when I realize I haven’t checked on Liya or Zoya since I got home.
The hallway is empty when I step out of my office. Several steps deposit me in front of the guestroom door. My knuckles hover over the wood after I knock, frozen by memories.
It’s weird having Zoya here.
When the door unlocks, I drop my hand to my side. One blue eyeball peers out at me. My steel gaze inspires her to open the door.
I walk inside without waiting for her invitation. The click of the door shutting produces an awkward silence, one created from years of tension and experience.
Two hours since she got here and it’s already a mess. I grimace at the litter of clothes on the ground, the bed, the back of a chair.I’m so glad Liya picks up after herself.
I flex my fist in my pocket. “You’re only here because of Liya’s goodwill.”
“You don’t have to remind me, Pasha.”
“If you betray her in any way, Zoya Kirilovna—if you so much ashintat doing anything against her—” I meet her gaze, unending fury burning in my eyes. “I will not hesitate to do what is necessary.”
Her lips quiver, but she manages to keep herself together. “I understand.”
Satisfied with her response, I breeze past her and step into the hallway, turning only to wish her good night.
The door quickly shuts. I don’t look over my shoulder when the lock clicks into place. Old habits die hard with the likes of us. We’re used to being paranoid.
And that’s just what I can’t shake right now.
The whole arrangement makes me uneasy. From Zoya being here to Liya being the one to prompt such a situation. It’s nothing I can’t handle. I just don’t like it.
What’s done is done, I consider as I step into my bedroom.And there’s no way out but through.
Chapter Eight
Liya
This wasn’t my best idea.
It’s only been a couple of days since Willow and I snuck Zoya into the penthouse. Getting her past the front desk was a bit of a task with Gennadiy guarding the lobby, but we managed to do it, shoving her into the elevator before anyone could truly notice we had an extra woman with us.
But harder than that is facing the reality of the situation—and the consequences of my actions.
The terrace hosts more plants than usual. Viktoria brought some of them down from the garden on the roof, insisting that they brighten up the place. But with Zoya seated between Pavel and myself, the place feels crowded.
My teacup clinks as I set it into the saucer. Zoya gives me a grateful grin while raising her cup to her lips, her eyes hidden by the sunglasses I gave her. She’s wearing a pair of seventies-looking ones—huge bug-eye white frames with multicolored reflective lenses. It’s a good look for her and makes her appear livelier.