I swallow hard, forcing myself to breathe evenly until Maksim shifts in his sleep. His hand slips away, and I wait another long moment to listen to the slow rise and fall of his chest before easing myself out of bed. The mattress dips but he doesn’t stir, thankfully.
My heart pounds as I reach over to the nightstand and spot his phone.
It’s reckless… insane, even… but it’s the only way I can know for sure if Mikhail knows about the plan to track down his fiancée.
I swipe the phone off the table and tuck it against my chest before grabbing a long T-shirt and shorts to put on. The floorboards creak under my bare feet as I make my way over to the door. Using the bathroom attached to this room is too risky, leaves too many opportunities for Maksim to wake up and stumble upon me mid-conversation with his enemy.
So, I quickly open the bedroom door and dart across the hallway to the other bathroom, each scuffle and sound I make feeling like a gunshot going off. Once inside, I click the lock and set the phone on the counter.
My reflection in the mirror is pale, eyes too wide and wild, hair messy from sleep and sex.
God, I barely recognize myself.
I turn the shower on, twisting the knob until the spray thunders against the tub. The pipes groan for a second beforegiving way, water gushing down with such force that it drowns out the small sounds of the house beyond. Steam begins to rise instantly, curling upward to fog the mirror, painting the glass in a ghostly haze that creeps across the entire bathroom.
It’s not perfect cover, but it’s something.
Enough to muffle my voice if anyone lingers outside the door.
My hands shake as I press the phone tighter to my chest, its hidden weight a reminder of the risk I’m about to take. One mistake and Maksim will know. Or worse, one from his inner circle, and then there will be no salvaging this.
I break into the phone almost too easily. The soft click of the device giving me access almost makes me jump.
The code is my birthday.
Heat rushes to my face at the same time my stomach sinks. Of course he’d use that… Of course he’d bind me to him in such a personal, inescapable way, even if it’s something as simple as a passcode.
My thumb hesitates over the numbers, shame burning my skin, but I push forward anyway. I wish things could be different. I wish I weren’t put in this impossible decision to choose between my son and his father.
Tears burn at the corners of my eyes.
My pulse thrums wildly as I tap out the sequence of digits etched into my memory. The number Mikhail made me repeat over and over before releasing me back into the realworld. His voice still haunts me.Remember, Ivy. I expect you to check in when you arrive there. So I know you’re still in this…
The phone rings. Once… twice… three times.
My throat tightens, every second stretching longer than the last. I brace for his voicemail to pick up, or the sound of the operator telling me the number’s been disconnected. For the hollow echo of abandonment that has been earned because of what he heard Maksim and his circle say.
Finally, a voice picks up on the other end. “Yes?”
The word slithers through the line, smooth and sinuous, curling around my lungs and almost forcing me to choke. My grip falters, making me almost drop the phone.
“It’s me,” I manage, barely above a whisper.
A chuckle comes through on the other end, edged with mock amusement like it always is. “Ivy… I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me. I’m glad to hear you’ve survived.”
I freeze, the breath in my chest catching. His tone is light, almost playful, and doesn’t at all match the fury I’d been bracing for. He doesn’t sound angry…
Does that mean he hadn’t heard? He hadn’t somehow intercepted Maksim’s inner circle talking about Emily and pieced together that she was the one they’ve been on the lookout trying to find?
Relief pulses faint and quick in my chest, followed instantly by unease. Relief is dangerous when it comes to him. I can’t trust that everything is fine until I actually have concrete confirmation that he has no idea they’re looking into her.
“Yes. Sorry for the delay, I was acclimating again,” I say, fumbling for composure.
“No excuses,” he cuts in smoothly, silencing me with two words.
The command threads through them, wrapping around my lungs until my breath falters once again. After a pause that’s long enough to make me sweat, his tone shifts, turning almost velvety smooth and warm.
“I know why you’re calling. And I must say… well done.”