Page 57

"Was I? It's difficult to remember."

She pulls the blanket up, covering her breast. "Better now?"

"No – worse, substantially worse."

She laughs as I cross the room to retrieve my phone. It's a message from Mother. She says she doesn't want to intrude, but she's received a text from Anya Barinov inquiring whether we still plan to attend Viktor's gala tomorrow. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply.

"Is something wrong?"

"I overlooked something," I admit honestly. "I don’t know how it slipped my mind... Damn."

"What, Nico?"

I return to the bed, taking her hand, wishing I could avoid this discussion. "I've agreed to attend a Bratva party with Anya Barinov. She's Viktor's daughter, the leader of Bratva. The alternative was granting Viktor permission to transform the city into a considerably more dangerous place."

"You're attending as her... date?" Sienna questions.

"Technically, for appearance's sake, yes."

"Oh," she murmurs.

"But it means nothing," I insist.

"Does Anya know that?"

I run my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know. I hope so. She's..."

"What?" Sienna snaps. "You repeatedly start, then start as though you think I'm some delicate flower. Well, I'm not, so what is it?"

"She's made several advances toward me over the years. Nothing serious, but both she and Viktor have persistently pushed for an alliance."

"Over the years," Sienna echoes. "We've known each other for a few weeks, while this woman has pursued you for years."

"It doesn’t mean anything," I reassure her.

“Do you mind if I shower?" She stands... with the blanket wrapped around her nakedness.

"Sienna—"

"Please. It's fine. I'll meet you downstairs."

She walks into the en-suite and shuts the door loudly. I remain seated on the bed for several minutes, staring at the door, contemplating joining her. The shower runs. She'll be naked. I won't be able to think clearly, though. However, I doubt she's in an amorous mood at the moment.

I dress and descend to the kitchen, joining my mother.

"I informed Sienna about the party."

"Ah," Mother remarks, blowing across her herbal tea.

"She's not happy."

"Good."

"Good?"

“The fact that she’s not happy means she cares about you. It means my instincts about the two of you were right.”

“This isn’t a game, Mother.”