“I know,” Sasha says quietly. “But he would have killed Giana. Max–” she shakes her head, her blue eyes glimmering. “You’ve struggled for so long with the responsibility that you bear for the things that happen to those around you, those who love you. I couldn’t have lived with that either–and you, of all people, should understand that.”
“Besides,” she continues, glancing towards Levin. “There’s a plan we can come up with, right? We’re not in his hands yet. And I think we all know that Art isn’t the smartest of men. There’s a way to trap him, isn’t there? That’s why you told Max to agree?”
Levin nods. “Theremaybe,” he says slowly. “There’s no guarantee, Sasha. You and Max will be walking back into great danger. We can try, but there’s no way to ensure that there won’t be death, that Max or Giana or Tommas might lose their lives, and you might end up in Art’s hands. What Icansay,” he adds, seeing the dark look that I throw his way, “is that if Sasha were to end up in Art’s possession, I would stop at nothing to get her free and safe.”
“I believe you,” I tell him grimly. “But that doesn’t make me like this. Sasha shouldn’t be involved.”
“There’s very little choice.” Levin rubs his hand across his mouth. “I understand how you feel, Max. Believe me, I, of all men, understand. But the easiest way to trap a man like Art is to let him believe that he’s being given what he wants. He believes he’s owed it, so he won’t be shrewd enough to expect a trap. He’ll simply accept that things are working out as they’re meant to, as he deserves, and he won’t look twice at it. If we bring him the two of you, he’ll be too busy gloating over his victory to look over his shoulder.”
“It’s smart,” I admit. “But I fucking hate Sasha being involved in this. I would have left her with you and then gone back, but now–”
“You can’t make her live with consequences that you wouldn’t accept,” Levin says firmly. “I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that nothing happens to either of you. You know what that means to me, Max.”
“I do,” I say quietly. I feel Sasha’s fingers slide through mine, linking our hands together.
With everything in me, I want to start today over again, to live in an endless loop of it, the perfect pretense that we’d wrapped ourselves in where no one could find or hurt us. I want to be the one to take the consequences for us both, to leave her here with Levin in safety if I have to leave her at all.
It’s too late to change it now.
“We’ll leave in the morning,” Levin says. “I’ll talk to Adrian about arrangements.”
Just like that, what had felt like the promise of the possibility of an endless future is shrank down to one more night.
26
SASHA
It’s all I can do to hold myself together.
I can’t go back to Art. I can’t lose Max. I can’t do this–
The words repeat over and over in my head through the remainder of the evening, which passes in a numb fog. The peaceful happiness of the afternoon has dissipated and vanished as if it never existed, leaving only a ticking clock that makes me feel sick thinking about it.
We were supposed to be safe here. We were supposed to have a chance to start over.
It feels like some kind of sick joke that after escaping a man like Obelensky,Artwill be my end. If this goes poorly, if our hastily cobbled plan fails, I don’t think I can bear to let Art do what he wants with me. I don’t think I’ll be able to wait for Levin to try to save me.
If Max is dead, I won’t want to.
The only thing that I can think of, at that point, will be to try to take Art with me when I go, somehow.
It has to work.Max trusts Levin, and so do I, but this is beyond dangerous. We’d agreed that Art isn’t particularly shrewd, but he’d been smart enough to use Giana and Tommas against us. Short of the impossibility of him getting to Viktor’s family, they’re all that would have convinced either Max or me to walk back into his hands.
We were so close.I can’t eat, can’t listen to anything that anyone is saying to me. I feel irritable and impatient, wanting to be alone with Max. To soak up whatever time we have left, now that it’s shrunk to such a small, impossible window.
When we’re finally alone in our bedroom, Max sits heavily on the edge of the bed, his hands between his knees. The mood couldn’t be more different than last night, which seems so far away now that it might as well have been a different lifetime. He looks at me, guilt written across every line of his handsome face.
“I’m sorry, Sasha,” he says heavily, letting out a long breath. “This is my fault–”
“No.” I cross the room quickly, sitting down next to him. “This was my choice too. It’s not your fault or mine. We tried to get away, and Art found us. He used what we care about against us. He’s the one in the wrong here, not you or I.”
“We were supposed to have so much longer.” His hand rests on my thigh, tightening as if he can hold me here–hold usbothhere–that way. “I wasted so much time. Sasha–”
I lean forward, my hand cupping his jaw as I turn his face towards mine. “We have tonight, before we have to go back to Italy. Let’s not spend it regretting things that we can’t change.”
And then, before he can say anything else, I lean forward and kiss him, capturing his lips with mine.
“Levin said he’ll keep us safe if he can,” I whisper against Max’s mouth, clutching his hands in mine as I lean into him. “All we can do is trust him. We’ve escaped worse.”