Page 78 of Cashmere Ruin

“Liar,” June mumbles into my neck. “Fine. Have it your way. But I’ll keep the door open.”

“Please don’t. The third-floor creep might take it as an invitation to dinner.”

We laugh at that. God, it’s good to be back like this: me, June, our cat. Tiny little Nugget, however riotous her mood may get. “Just promise you’ll call if things get bad, okay?”

I nod. “I promise.”

It’s another lie, but it’s the kindest one I’ve got.

25

MATVEY

Something’s wrong with April.

After that night, it becomes more and more obvious. The faraway look, the one-syllable answers, the sluggish way she drags herself from bed to couch and couch to bed… All innocent brushstrokes on their own, but the picture they paint is far from reassuring.

If it were just that, I could ignore it. I could chalk it up to exhaustion. Hell, even to sheer hatred of me. After everything I did to her, I wouldn’t expect anything less.

But then there’s the baby.

Until a few days ago, May was her one source of joy. Even when I was acting my worst, I could see April’s face change the second she picked her up: her frown smoothed over; her nervousness disappeared; her smile came back tenfold. It was the one thing that made me feel like I hadn’t broken her, even when I didn’t think I cared anymore—how happy she was with her daughter.

Now, it’s like holding her own baby makes it worse. This vacant stare fills her eyes, like she can’t evenseeour child in her arms. Like she’s watching something else, somewhere far away from us.

Like she’s not even there.

“Matvey?”

Grisha’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “What?”

“I was just saying that I prepared those documents you requested.” When my face doesn’t show any recognition, Grisha frowns at my reflection in the rearview mirror. “You know, the logs? About the D.C. matter?”

Right.Those. “Good. I’ll check them out in my office.”

I try to make myself sound normal. Like I’m not being haunted by omens I don’t understand. But I don’t seem to be doing a very convincing job.

“Is everything okay?” my nosy driver pries. “With April and the baby?”

“Of course,” I lie. It’s my first instinct, even now: deny, deny, deny. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

I watch Grisha hesitate in the mirror. It’s unlike him. Whatever it is, I wish he’d just fucking come out with it instead of fishing for the most diplomatic words in the dictionary. “The other day, she was rather… distraught. I just hope that whatever happened at her father’s house isn’t weighing on her anymore.”

At her father’s house.When I wasn’t there to protect her. Another one of my failings, the latest in a long line.

“Keep an eye on the place,” I order him.

“Alright. How many eyes did you have in mind?”

“Just a couple of men will suffice.”

“Understood. Do we want these men to be seen?”

He says it casually, like a comment about the weather, but I know what he’s really asking me. A Bratva man isn’t spotted unless thepakhanwants them to be.

So the real question is:Do we want the Flowers family to know they’re being watched?

I can picture it in my head—Dominic peeking out the windows, being haunted by a black shape looming just beyond his pristine garden wall.Hunted.Nora, parting the curtains with her five-hundred-dollar manicure, telling her girls not to leave the house. And then April’s lifelong bullies, quivering through the night, sleeping huddled together on the floor like the litter of spoiled brats they are.

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