Page 163 of Cashmere Ruin

P.S. Your girlfriend’s been camping out in my kitchen. Come get her before I have to call security.

There. Maybe this time, he’ll deign to pop out of the bushes or something.

“Am I boring you, son?”

“Not at all,” I lie. When April asked me for space, I took the chance to indulge Vlad’s demands for a night out. Now, I’m regretting every single thought that led me to that decision. “Your way of bonding with the servers is enlightening.”

He gives a boisterous laugh. “Oh, loosen up! Girls are meant to be sampled.”

“And here I thought that was the wine.”

“Like you’re such a saint,” he harrumphs. “Though I can’t say I blame you. I know we’ve had our differences on the subject, but now that the ax is buried, I’ve got to tell you I almost envy you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That woman,” he waves. “The one you keep around to warm your bed.”

My knuckles go white. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m just saying, I wishmywife had been so understanding. Then I wouldn’t have had to spend a fortune in hotel rooms every time I wanted a good fuck.”

“If you’re talking about April, I suggest you shut your?—”

“Oh, let’s not beat around the bush,” he cackles. “A wife is to make a family with. But every man needs a whore.”

That’s it: I rise from my chair and knock it to the floor. My fists slam on the table, sending the glasses toppling every which way.

“Oy!” Vlad shouts. “What’s gotten into you?!”

“I have to go.”

Wife. Whore.In the world’s eyes, it’s always one or the other. That’s how it’s always going to be, isn’t it?

Because I already have a wife.

So what does that make April?

It’s the last straw. I ditch Vlad in his red-faced stupor and get back to my car. Then I race to the penthouse.

Time to make things right.

49

APRIL

I’ve already put May to bed when I hear him knocking.

I know it’s him. Of course it is. No kidnapper in their right mind would even think of knocking, and it’s way too late for any of the other usual suspects: Grisha, Yuri, Petra. Only one person remains.

Only him.

I make my way to the door with trudging steps. I’m exhausted. These past few days have been harrowing in more ways than one. Right now, I just want to sink into a dreamless sleep.

“April? Are you still up?”

I place my palm on the door. “It’s late, Matvey. If you’re here for May?—”

“I’m here for you.”

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