Page 68 of Cruel Romeo

“Haha.” I start sweating. “That’d be… hard to pull off.”

“Then I saw Marc’s shiner and thought somehow, it had to do with you.”

My blood goes cold. “You did?”

“Yeah.” She nods towards the empty desk. “Morning after the wedding, a guy came around, asking for you. I didn’t see it myself, but I’ve got it on good authority he was the one who roughed up Marc.”

Fear digs into my stomach. “He asked about me?”

“Yep. Kept getting your name wrong, though. That’s how I figured he was probably looking for someone else.”

“Wrong?”

“See-mah or something.”

Nope. He wasn’t getting it wrong. Chances are, he was getting it very, very right.

“Did you catch his name?” I ask, trying not to make it obvious how fucking terrified I am right now.

“Didn’t get the chance. He was big, though. Tall, broad, military haircut. A scar right above his eyebrow. Eastern European, maybe? A little bit like you if you were a bulky Russian spy with a dangler.”

Anatoli.

My heart plummets. I fight the urge to press both palms to my face. Jemma’s description—there’s no way he was anyone else. He must have looked into Petyr’s new bride and realized how familiar she looked.

And if he did… How long until Petyr finds out, too?

“Thanks.” I force a smile. “I really need to go right now, Jem, but…”

“Don’t even say it.” She pulls me into another bone-crushing hug. “You’re doing the Lord’s work. Get me out from under Bob the Blob soon, yeah?”

“I’ll do my best.”

It’s the first thing I’ve said today that wasn’t a lie.

“And when you’re back from your honeymoon, I want to knoweverythingabout this mysterious husband of yours.”

“Right.” The wordsI could tell you, but then I’d have to kill younearly make it out of my throat. “You got that.”

Somehow, I make a dignified exit.

Outside, the air tastes stale, panic clinging to the back of my palate. Petyr’s car is on the other side of the road, just a crossing away. If I went the other way, he wouldn’t even see me. I’d get a head start. I could hail a cab and run, sell my new designer clothes for getaway cash?—

No.Something inside me stops me.You can’t run. You made a deal.

Right. There’s that. I just finished telling Petyr we need to be honest with each other’s needs. How rich would it be of me to jump ship now?

Not very. He’s got all the money, remember?

I ball up my fists. I do need his money. Badly. I just promised Jemma I was working on our business—if I run now, what will become of that?

But I can’t risk him finding out. It just wouldn’t be worth it.What’s the use of being a millionaire if you’re floating face-down in the bay?

You could tell him the truth.My conscience is barely a whisper, but I still hear it.Come clean. Ask him for sanctuary.

I shake that temptation right off. Petyr would never believe me. That I ran away from the Danilos, that I’m not loyal to them. If I told him my secret, I’d be making my own bed at the bottom of the Hudson.

He’d never forgive me. Not with what my family did to his. He’d seek revenge—and how could I blame him for it?