Page 51 of The Fixer

She shook her head, lifting her hand to wobble in a ‘so-so’ gesture.

Nearing the living room, I paused so Malda could walk ahead of me, and she straightened.Someone’s taking this a bad way.I had a feeling Malda was taking this so personally because something had happened between her and Ophelia— something I didn’t know about. Something I wasn’tsupposedto know about.

“Hey.” Ophelia patted the sofa next to her, her chirp happy and excited.

Watching the scene play out warmed my heart, and I crossed my arms to lean against the archway.

“We were gonna watch some movies,” Ophelia said. “You wanna join? I wanted to talk to you about America, too.”

“… How’s your wrist?” Wandering hesitantly into the room, Malda climbed into the sofa; even with her long legs, her heels didn’t touch the edge.

Ophelia held up her bandaged arm casually, with a little shrug. In the time it took to traverse the winding hallways, she’d put my shirt back on. Tugging the fabric higher onto her shoulder, she huffed softly as she snatched the controller. “She didn’t have to tackle me like that. I’m not stupid. Throwing myself down the stairs is better for a lawsuit than suicide. With all that drama, I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Are you hungry? Sascha, would you mind making a trip?” Narrowed, insistent eyes met mine.

I didn’t hesitate to nod. Girls needed girl time, after all; who was I to get between what may be a fragile, budding friendship? While it was true, Malda was ultimately Vyachaslav’s puppet, the fact she was here and genuine… It made me hopeful that America would be more a success than if Ophelia only had me to rely on. With Malda there as a guard, they’d be spending a lot of time together. Whether or not Malda reported every word to her superiors would ultimately determine what happened when we returned.

Now, we three were locked in an arduous waiting game.