“I know.”
As we climb out of the car, one of the men opens the building door for us. I step inside because refusing now would be moreembarrassing than going in, and apparently that’s how most of my worst decisions begin.
The lobby smells faintly of flowers and polished wood. A chandelier hangs overhead, subtle rather than grand. The floors shine. Somewhere, hidden speakers play low classical music. It’s quiet in a way that has been purchased.
A woman waits near the elevators.
She’s tall, blonde, and impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit that fits her like armor. Her hair is pulled back into a smooth knot. She holds a tablet in one hand and wears an expression that belongs on someone who already knows I’m a problem.
Her eyes move over me.
Roman’s jacket. My swollen mouth. My wrinkled clothes. She dislikes me instantly.
I feel it like cold water down my back.
“Good morning, Mr. Sokolov,” she says in English, though her accent is Russian. “Your apartment is ready. I moved your first meeting to noon, but Mikhail called twice and the documents from St. Petersburg are waiting for your review.”
Roman’s face gives nothing away. “Later, Elena.”
Elena.Of course, her name is elegant too.
Her gaze flicks to me again. “And your guest?”
There is the smallest pause before guest. Enough to make it insulting while still technically polite.
Roman looks at me. “This is Katerina,” he says. “She will be staying for now.”
For now.
Elena’s smile appears. It’s worse than no smile at all. “Of course.”
I pull Roman’s jacket tighter around myself and lift my chin, because if this woman expects shame from me, she will have to wait in line behind everyone else who wants it.
“Good morning,” I say.
Elena’s eyes hold mine. “Good morning.”
The elevator doors open behind her.
Roman places his hand at my back, and I step inside with him.
As the doors close, I catch one last glimpse of Elena in the lobby, already looking at her tablet, mouth tight with disapproval.
The bad feeling in my stomach deepens.
I came to Moscow to escape one family’s secrets.
And now, I’m beginning to suspect I have walked straight into another man’s kingdom.
8
KATERINA
The elevator opens directlyinto his apartment.
For a second, I simply stand there, Roman’s jacket still around my shoulders, staring like a girl who has wandered into a palace by mistake.
The suite is not flashy. Somehow, that makes it worse.