Those words strike me like a thunderbolt. Are they true, or am I just hoping that they’re true? How can she still love me if she’s so adamant on leaving? It makes no sense.
I shake my head. “It’s over, Stepan.”
“It’s not over yet.” Stepan sighs. “I saw the box upstairs.”
I cut a sharp glare in his direction. “Say nothing to her. That’s an order.”
“On my life, Pavel Sergeyevich.” The shadow of a smile flits across Stepan’s weathered face. “You know in your heart this is not over. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have hidden it. And I’m sure Liya Frankovna feels the same. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be hiding her plans from you.”
Chapter Eleven
Liya
I’ve just about paced myself sick.
In the back of my mind, I can hear Viktoria chiding me for working myself up. She’s going on about how stress is bad for the baby, how my legs need a break, and how even the most active of rabbits rest between sprints.
And she’d be right. Even if she’s not here, she’d be right.
The floorboards in the hallway creak. My head snaps up as Pavel appears in the doorway with his blazer draped over his shoulder and his free hand in his pocket. He looks like he’s been thinking—a lot.
He glances at the bed. “I thought you would be asleep by now.”
“I was just…” I lick my lips nervously. “Getting ready for bed.”
“Liya.” He studies me curiously. “I know you have a plan. Tell me. In detail.”
My heart leaps to my throat, and my stomach flips. My face remains an impartial mask as my thoughts race.He can’t know. If he finds out, he’ll do something rash.
“What are you talking about?”
“For the wedding. For Zoya.”
“I’ve told you already,” I whisper carefully. “I don’t have a plan.”
He narrows his eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
“I can’t really think of anything else that I can do. Look, you’ve made the decision to do something. And I know I can’t convince you out of it.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
I shake my head and turn toward the vanity to grab my hairbrush. I comb my hair and stare mechanically at my reflection. “I’m not lying.”
“Your cheek always twitches when you’re lying.”
“It does not.”
He crosses the room and halts just within arm’s reach. He touches my cheek lightly, causing the skin to twitch violently. It proves nothing.
Except for the way that simple touch zaps my core.
A knot forms in my throat as I keep brushing my hair. It’s true—I’m a terrible liar. I can’t keep this to myself for very long.
But I can’t very well give it all away, can I?
“Tell me, Liya,” he says while setting his blazer aside. He loosens his tie and then slides it off. It draws my attention to his neck. His main artery pulses rhythmically.
Another zap to my core.