Page 152 of Emerald Malice

I groan and bury my face in my hands. “I regret the day I introduced the two of you.”

Mila ignores me. “I’ll just ask Leonty to be more alert when he’s on night duty around the pool?—”

“Yes, he’s sleeping over,” I cave. “But no, we’re not sleeping together. We’re sleeping, but we aren’t sleeping sleeping. No sex. Okay?”

They exchange another glance.

“How is that humanly possible?” Katya asks. “Didn’t he take you out for some big, romantic dinner the other night?”

I can’t help but smile at the memory. “I don’t think I’d go that far. But it was really nice. We compared parental horror stories, a rousing game of ‘What’s Worse, A Dead Dad Or A Shitty One’? The best part is that everybody loses. Then we drove our leftover food to a homeless encampment and passed it around.”

Another incredulous glance.

Katya turns her frown on me. “Okay, you’re right—that is not even remotely romantic.”

“I guess you had to be there.” I lean forward. “Look, Shura and Leonty aren’t like Andrey. They’re open and ready to put themselves out there. Andrey is… reserved. He keeps everything inside. Getting some details out of him is a big step forward.”

Mila and Katya exchange another look.

“You two do that again and I’m gonna shove your faces into the butter dish,” I warn.

“Okay, I believe her about the no sex thing,” Katya announces a bit too loudly. “Natalia gets cranky when she isn’t getting any action.”

Action. Like that’s the missing piece. How do I make them see that sex with Andrey has always been easier than breathing?

But this stuff—talking, sharing, opening up to one another—that’s always been the complicated bit.

Katya and Mila are conducting another telepathic conversation as they try to puzzle me out, and the fact they’ve gone from sworn enemies to friends in such a short amount of time is almost enough to make me believe in miracles.

If they can grow together, maybe Andrey and I can get along, too.

No matter what my friends say about the two of us, that’s as much as I’m willing to hope. Sure, he’s been attentive and patient and kind. Sure, he’s opened up to me. He may even enjoy sleeping with me on occasion.

But love?

Lord knows I’ve made plenty of mistakes when it comes to Andrey Kuznetsov—but I won’t make that one.

Falling in love with him would be the worst mistake of all.

I walk into Andrey’s office with his to-go container, expecting to find him poring over paperwork at his desk.

Instead, I find two guns where the paperwork ought to be.

What the hell?

I hear him in the adjoining bathroom, but I can’t take my eyes off the guns, glinting under the sunlight streaming in through his open windows. When Andrey emerges, I blurt, “There are guns on your desk.”

His jaw tightens. “How was lunch?”

“Good. Why are there guns on your desk?”

He buttons his shirt cuffs and walks over to me. “I have a meeting in half an hour.”

“And that requires guns?”

“It’s just insurance, lastochka. Nothing to worry about.”

His smile is cool and confident, but it has my heart beating erratically, chasing out all the air in my lungs.

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