Page 87 of Inked Adonis

There’s a dumpster on the path up ahead. I could drop this phone in the trash can and forget this ever happened. I’m tempted to.

But something stops me.

If Katerina gave me this phone, there must be a good reason why. I’m not under any delusion it has anything to do with helping me. But she had a good point: she’s known Samuil for a long time.

I tuck the phone in my pocket and decide to ask him about it later.

For now, Sam can deal with the Ghosts of Ex-Wives Past haunting him, and I can forget Katerina Alekseeva exists.

Rufus snorts. I don’t need a dog interpreter to know what he’s thinking.

Yeah, right.

That bitch is coming back for sure.

30

NOVA

The stupid burner phone is like an anchor in my pocket. It bangs against my leg with every step across the lobby. I’m surprised the elevator can lift it, me, and the Katerina-sized weight on my shoulders all the way to the penthouse.

My vision of asking Sam what to do with the phone seemed a lot easier before I realized I’d also have to explain what Katerina said when she gave it to me.

Hey, Sam. Your ex-wife gave me this phone in case you ever knock me around the way she claims you hit her. Hilarious, right? Also, random thought: when can I meet your mom?

I’m so distracted drafting the speech I absolutely can never give to Samuil that I don’t see Myles standing in the foyer with a flashy grin until he clears his throat.

I jolt, dropping the dogs’ leashes in my surprise. They waste no time charging over to him, tails wagging in a blur as they press their wet noses against his pants.

“Why are you lurking around like a creep?” I demand.

He sighs. “You’re really putting a damper on the alluring male presence I’m trying to cultivate here, Nova.”

I plant my fists on my hips. “If you want my suggestion: don’t stand just inside women’s doorways waiting for them to come home. Stalkers and murderers aren’t very ‘alluring.’” I half-turn away from him, as if he’ll see the outline of the phone in my pocket and instantly clock my guilt.

He arches a brow, and I immediately know we’re thinking the same thing.

Says the woman living with Samuil Litvinov.

I leap over that conversational hurdle and get to the meat of it. “What are you doing here?”

“I come bearing a gift.”

“Oh?”

That’s all I can manage while simultaneously biting back,Another one?I’d say this is my lucky day, but a run-in with Katerina is never a good sign. A gift from her is even worse.

Myles slumps. “Is this still coming across as ‘creeper’? Because you were supposed to be excited about that.”

“I don’t like surprises. Or gifts, honestly.”

Though it’s not like I’ve had a lot of experience with them. Dad wasn’t much for displays of affection. Grams was the only person who ever cared enough to get me anything I actually wanted.

“Wow.” Myles whistles and mutters, almost to himself, “You really aren’t like the other women Samuil dates.”

My mind trails back to Katerina and the tight pink dress she casually wore for a walk in the park. I don’t need to look down at my dog-hair-covered leggings to note the differences.

I alsocan’tlook down—because one glimpse of the bulge in my pocket, and Myles will know I’m hiding something from him.

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