Page 84

"No. Why?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Don't you trust me to take care of her and make sure she does what she's supposed to?"

He sits in his chair and looks at me thoughtfully before answering. Leaning back, dressed as he often is in a charcoal-gray bespoke suit, not a hair out of place, he looks older than he really is. It's the weight of responsibility; I know it is. Still, he's loyal and protective, but he does not fuck around.

"She's your wife's sister,” I remind him.

He blows out a breath and sighs. "I know."

I know he knows, but obviously, I felt like he needed a reminder. If he tried to harm her in any way, I wouldn't stand for it. But I don't want him to even entertain the thought, so it seemed advisable to remind him who she is.

"The Irish are asking questions. They may be jealous."

I shrug. Makes sense. Their agreement with her is up, and I swooped right in. I was well within my rights, but it’s their loss. "They’d have done the same."

"Doesn't matter."

I grunt. "What do they wanna fucking know?" I ask, but he doesn't answer right away.

"They're up our ass. Seems she got them in trouble."

Whatever.

"She was a contractor for them. She laid out what they needed to do. It's on them if they got in fucking trouble."

He doesn’t speak for long seconds, as if weighing his words. He tips his head to the side. "You have feelings for her."

I look away, not wanting to admit it out loud. I've had feelings for her since the first time I looked at her. The first time I watched her. I saw how vulnerable she was, alone. And then, when I found out how much we had in common…

I decided long ago, before I knew Anissa, that I'd be alone. After Gleb was gone, after my parents hated me, after I knew what love was capable of doing—Iwantedto be alone. I told myself that she was just a job, but now I know how I feel about her. And I don't even like that. She's in the other room right now.

"Be careful," Rafail says. "Allowing yourself to have feelings for somebody will fuck up your judgment."

I bite my tongue to hold back a retort until I taste copper. Reminding him thathe should fucking talkisn’t gonna go over well. He may be my cousin, but he's mypakhan.

"What do you want from me?"

"A reminder of what you promised. And keep her here. If she runs, she's a fucking liability. You know that."

"Of course I do."

He nods. "You do that, and I'll make sure your fucking grown-ass parents stay out of your hair."

"How do you propose to do that?" I ask him.

"Sending them away," he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. "Polina’s brother has a place in South Africa. Turns out, he needs someone to house-sit. Free vacation."

The trace of humor on his face vanishes. "While they're gone, you change the locks on your house. Trust me when I tell you, you don't need your parents walking in when you're trying to knock up your wife."

No fucking shit. "Yeah. I'll do that."

He stands, dusts imaginary lint from his clothes, and nods.

I stare at him. "And the Irish?"

He blows out a breath and squares his shoulders. "I'll deal with the Irish."

* * *

Her hands movewith a terrifying kind of precision. Not delicate. Not hesitant.Expert.