“Oh…uh, are you sure you don’t prefer someone else…like Viktor?”
She’s running again. I can see it in her awkward body language and backpedaling speech.
“This is not a request. It’s an order.”
She’s about to say something else but stops when I point at my creation. “Do you know why a house of cards has a bad reputation?”
“Are we really talking about a house of cards when your mother needs help?”
“Answer the question, Sasha. Do you know why?”
She throws her hands in the air with so much attitude, I’m tempted to push her against the wall and abandon all the plans I had for today.
“Well, it takes a lot of effort and concentration to build, but it can be destroyed in no time.”
“Yes, and no. See.” My hand hovers over the top card. “They’re made of paper, and while paper can be molded, it’s still fragile.”
With a flick of my finger, I tumble the creation I spent an hour assembling.
“Listen carefully, Sasha. This place is a house of cards, and I don’t belong inside it. I will always be the one who puts it together or destroys it.”
She furrows her brow, not seeming to understand the meaning, but that’s fine. She’ll get there with time.
I round the desk and she subtly pushes back, keeping a safe distance between us. I adjust my glasses with my thumb and forefinger to stop myself from choking the fuck out of her.
“Did Konstantin hear about my mother’s kidnapping?”
“I think so. He was talking about the worst timing and things like that on his way to his car just now.”
“Good.”
“How is that good?”
She falls in step beside me as I leave the office. “Are you going to ask him for help to save her?”
“Of course not.” I grin. “A hero doesn’t share his cape, now, does he?”
“You’ll surely lose time with this. Is it okay if you’re late to the Bratva’s meeting that’s being held specifically for you?”
“No. But it’ll all work out.”
Everything, including Sasha, will go according to plan.
19
SASHA
Kirill asks me if I want to be there for…the rescue operation of his mother.
He sounds so casual about it that I can’t help but be a little appalled.
My reaction to his actions is more about me than him. I know that. I really,reallydo.
It’s not that he’s changed, but maybe I’m freaked out about the fact that he hasn’t changed.
In fact, he’s been being unapologetically himself in a very direct manner. He was strict and unapproachable in the army, probably due to martial law, but now, he’s shed his outer skin and is letting his inner self loose.
Not that I expected him to change, but I did think maybe being around members of his family would compel him to behave differently.