Page 34 of Emerald Vices

“Please. You expect me to pretend like this doesn’t have ‘Andrey Kuznetsov’ written all over it? Byron just quit his job and disappeared without a trace right after they had a chest-banging, dick-swinging, testosterone-fueled showdown.”

“People go missing all the time.”

I groan, dropping my face into my hands. “Like I don’t have enough to worry about.”

“Exactly. Don’t put this on your plate along with the rest of it. Let those bitches talk all they want. No one can accuse you of hurting another human being.”

I frown through my fingers at him. “This from the man who literally saw me shoot a human being at point blank range.”

“Oh, shit.” He chuckles through a wince. “Forgot about that.”

“Lucky you. I haven’t.”

Leonty gives me a sympathetic smile. “Let’s cut out early today. That way, you won’t have to deal with the rumor mill.”

“You’re just suggesting that because you wanna get home to Mila.”

“She did text me this picture earlier?—”

“Urgh, no, that’s enough. Stop right there,” I say with a shudder. “I don’t need details. You’ve convinced me. Let’s go.”

The only thing worse than approaching the manor mid-afternoon and knowing Andrey is waiting for me inside is realizing that he was right about me skipping work today.

I expect for him to meet me at the door with a therapist in one hand and the kind of sign you’d see at airport arrivals that says, “I told you so.”

But the entryway is empty and I don’t see anyone as I make my way through the house and up to my room.

I click the door closed and kick off my shoes. I’ll take a nice, long shower and then go off to find Misha and tell him I’m letting him win every board game we play, but we’ll both know it’s a lie. He’s absurdly good at every game we play, and I don’t stand a chance even if I am trying my hardest.

But just as I’m about to undress, I notice a folded white card sitting on my duvet.

Heart hammering in my chest—though I’m not sure if it’s frightened hammering or excited hammering—I open it.

Go next door.

I flash the card to Remi. “You know anything about this, Mr. Guard Dog?”

His tongue lolls out of his mouth. I take that as a “no.”

Letting my curiosity win out, I drop the note and head into the hallway. The door next to mine is cracked open, and Remi pushes through it like he can’t wait any longer.

I follow him in and my jaw drops.

It’s a nursery.

Not just any nursery, either—it’s the dream nursery from my vision boards. Everything is exactly accurate, from the snowy, sheepskin wool rug to the Egg Dodo baby basket I pinned to my board more as a joke than anything else.

I slip deeper into the room, running my hands over everything to make sure I’m not in a weirdly realistic dream. Part of me wants to throw off all my clothes and roll around in that sheepskin rug just to be really positive.

But Remi steals my thunder and divebombs the rug, rubbing himself all over it. He looks so happy that I don’t have the heart to stop him.

“Nat?”

I recognize Mila’s voice instantly and turn towards the door. “In here!”

She pops into the room, takes one look at it, and her jaw drops, too. “Oh, no. He didn’t.”

I twist around and find my expression mirrored on her face. “Andrey did this?”

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