Page 50 of The Fixer

My breath hitched. Flames licked my arm and to my fingertips, but he was so gentle that my wrist didn’t hurt.

“Let me take care of you. For once, don’t think about me or what I may be feeling.” He kissed my fingertips.

34

Sascha

“O-oh— yeah-h-h…” Ophelia’s guttural, euphoric moan echoed through the room. Flopping her head down, she shivered as goosebumps coated every inch of her porcelain skin. “Harder…” She fell onto the sofa fully, her elbows pulled out from underneath her by invisible hands.

I smirked as my hands worked leisurely, and her toes flexed out of the corner of my eye. “Just enjoy it, Oppie.” Massaging up either side of her spine, it didn’t take long for my smirk to morph into a frown. Ophelia was so damn tenseeverywhere. She hadn’t been so bad before going to Saint Petersburg and being tackled onto marble.

Of course, Ophelia was under a lot of stress and she felt like she couldn’t rely on me to help her… which only darkened my frown. If she couldn’t trust me, lean on me, when things got bad, why were we together? I would be there for her, but I couldn’t force her to talk to me. Being as we couldliterallydie as a result of all this crap swirling around us, I didn’t blame her in the least for being hesitant, but… “You know, Oppie—” My phone buzzed, halting my words on the tip of my tongue. For a second, I almost decided not to answer, but I reached for it anyway. I’d left class without warning, and a particular anxiety gnawed away at my gut as I answered the call. “Hello? Sascha Matheson.”

“Are you with Ophelia? Do you think she’d want to see me?”

I physically gagged in surprise, tensing as the woman in question tilted her head quizzically at me. Malda sounded tentative— uncertain, even— and my brows nearly flew off my face in shock. She’d never called before, let alone asked to come in. I gulped down the dense lump in my throat roughly. “Uh- Malda… I am. I’ll ask— just a second.” Arching a brow at Ophelia, I pursed my lips when she simply nodded.

Ophelia’s face fell a little, as if she felt bad that Malda had taken such an extreme step when nothing was really her fault.

“Are you outside? I’ll come let you in.”

“Thanks, Sascha.”

Hanging up, I sluggishly lowered my phone as Ophelia and I met eyes. Her confusion bounced off the backs of my eye sockets. Sliding off the sofa, I hiked up my pants before raking my hand through my hair roughly.

Nothing could be said and anything thatcouldbe said had to be said to Malda. As bad as I felt for her feeling like she’d stepped over a line somehow, I didn’t think it’d culminate in her actually asking to stop by. Not once in the months that we’d known each other did Malda ever announce when she was coming over. Most of the time, she didn’t even knock on the door before letting herself in.

Leaving the living room, I glanced around the house with a strange feeling burrowing deep in my chest. In a week, this place would be torn down. When Ophelia and I got back from America, a whole new house would stand in its place. Every terrible memory she had here would hopefully, be wiped clean, replaced with the potential of all we were and wanted to be. She’d been pretty lax in designing the new house, and we hadn’t really talked about the interior.

But Ophelia did want to paint everything herself. According to the construction firm, that would be the only thing left to do— paint and furnish.I really am gonna miss that couch, though.

Entering the foyer, I turned my gaze to the high ceiling and beige, ugly walls. This house wasn’t a home…it had been a place to be in the same vicinity of people she despised. Even now, weeks and weeks later, Ophelia’s ghosts clung to the corners and in the shadows of the staircases. The very architecture of this house felt forbidding and distant.

Opening the door, I smiled welcomingly.

Malda ducked her head. Her normal, striking beauty replaced with a meekness that didn’t fit her at all. Face drawn in dismay and regret, she cast me a tiny, noncommittal smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“You know that nothing that happened today is your fault, Malda.”

Nodding dully, Malda raked her long fingers through her hair as her smile turned rueful.

Gesturing her in, I pursed my lips thinly as sympathies wrapped around my heart and lungs. “You’re a messenger. You shouldn’t be upset about doing your job.”

“You two are rational peas in a pod…”

I reached to squeeze her arm reassuringly.

Malda took a stabilizing breath. By no means did she seem like she’d just burst into tears or anything, but she was obviously tormented by the day. “I still feel guilty.”

“Did you know this whole time that you were coming to America with us, or…?” Changing the subject none-too-subtly, I headed back towards the living room. “Why the sudden addition?”

“Lyov’s got a new bodyguard, so Aleksander ordered me to come with you so that nothing happens to Ophelia while you’re over there.”

I heard the words Malda didn’t want to say—Aleksander was afraid Ophelia might kill herself if she didn’t have a friend with her. Which was… odd, because Malda and Ophelia weren’t friends, exactly. Either way, I kept quiet.

She released a sigh through her lips. “I wanted to go, anyway. We’ll be in New York City…I’ve always wanted to go to New York City.”

“Do you speak English?”