Page 75 of All The Pretty Little Lies

"Good afternoon," I purr, channeling all the cold authority I imagine Natasha would possess. "This is Natasha. I need to leave a message for Dr. Ivanov."

There's a slight pause on the other end of the line, and I can almost hear the receptionist's posture straightening. "Of course. How may I help you?"

I lock eyes with Alex, who gives me an encouraging nod. "Please inform Dr. Ivanov that I'll be bringing a product by tomorrow for testing. It's unsatisfactory, and I require his expertise to determine its viability."

The receptionist's voice is all efficiency now, the faint sounds of typing in the background. "I'll make sure Dr. Ivanov receives your message right away. Is there a specific time you'd like to come in?"

“After hours. He’ll understand. Make sure he's available. This is a matter of utmost importance."

"I'll pass along the message right away."

I end the call, my heart pounding in my chest. For a moment, neither Alex nor I speak, the weight of what we've just done settling over us like a heavy blanket.

"Well," Alex finally says, breaking the silence. "I guess now we wait."

We make our way back to the hotel, the streets of New York a blur of noise and color around us. My mind is racing, replaying the phone call over and over, searching for any misstep, any detail that might give us away. The call was a gamble, but I had to take it.

We reach our rooms on the third floor. My mind is so lost in thought I nearly walk past them until Alex tugs on the sleeve of my shirt to stop me.

"I'm going to see if I can track any unusual activity at the clinic. Maybe our little message will stir something up." I nod, barely hearing him before Alex disappears to his connecting room next door.

I unlock the door to my room, and step inside. I collapse onto the bed, the adrenaline of the day finally catching up with me. My hand is already reaching for my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I find the one I'm looking for. Vesper. I select video call and hit send. The phone rings once, twice, three times. Each second feels like an eternity. Then, finally, her beautiful face and voice comes through.

"Z? Is everything okay?"

The sound of her voice sends a wave of longing through me so intense it's almost painful.

“It is now that I am looking at your pretty face, moya koroleva.”

She smiles, and my heart skips a beat. Even through the screen of my phone, her beauty is breathtaking. The soft glow of what I assume is her bedside lamp casts a warm halo around her golden hair, making her look almost ethereal.

"What are you up to?" I ask, drinking in every detail of her face, from the slight crinkle at the corner of her eyes when she smiles to the faint freckles dusting her nose.

"Just laying on my bed," she replies, shifting slightly. The movement causes her hair to cascade over her shoulder, and I find myself wishing I could reach through the screen and run my fingers through those silky strands.

"Alone?" I can't help but ask, a mixture of hope and jealousy coloring my tone.

Her laugh, light and melodious, fills my ears. "If you're asking about Oz, he's out in the kitchen with Talon working on dinner."

My heart soars at this information. I love knowing she's alone, that for this moment, I have her all to myself. A mischievous grin spreads across my face. "So, you're all alone in that big bed, huh?"

Vesper rolls her eyes, but I can see the hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. "Behave yourself, Z," she chides, but there's no real admonishment in her tone.

"Now where's the fun in that?" I tease, my voice dropping to a lower, more intimate register. "Have you been missing me, moya koroleva?"

She bites her lower lip, a gesture that never fails to drive me wild. "Maybe," she admits softly.

"Maybe?" I echo, raising an eyebrow. "Come on, Vesper. Tell me how much you've been missing me."

She shifts again, and I catch a glimpse of bare shoulder. Is she wearing one of my t-shirts? The thought sends a jolt of desire through me. "A lot," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I see you’ve been in my closet.”

“I might have been,” she coyly admits. My breath catches as I take in the sight of Vesper in my shirt, the hem barely grazingher mid-thigh. Her long legs seem to stretch on forever, and I'm struck by an overwhelming urge to trace every inch of them with my fingertips and my lips.

"Is that all you're wearing, moya koroleva?" I ask, my voice husky with desire.

Vesper bites her lip, a gesture that never fails to drive me wild. Her green eyes sparkle with mischief as she looks directly into the camera. "Maybe," she teases, echoing our earlier exchange.

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