Page 138 of Beautiful Agony

The words hit me harder than I expect. "New York?"

"The New York Times wants me to be their lead investigative journalist covering human trafficking." She bites her lip. "I'd be stupid not to take it."

I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. "Yeah, you would be."

"But what about you? And Vadim? And..." She glances down at my belly.

"We'll be fine. Besides, it's not like you're moving to Mars." I lean back, unable to hide my smile as I spot a familiar broad-shouldered figure through the window. "And I'm pretty sure a certain someone wouldn't let you go that far anyway."

Megan follows my gaze to where Demyon stands outside, pretending to be deeply interested in his phone. A blush creeps across her cheeks.

"He's just being protective," she mutters. "After everything that happened."

"Mm-hmm. Is that why he volunteered to drive you here? And why he's been 'protecting' you at all hours of the night?"

"Lacey!" Her blush deepens but she can't hide her smile. "It's not like that."

"So whatisgoing on between you two?" I lean forward, unable to resist prodding. "Come on, spill."

Megan's fingers dance nervously around her coffee cup. "Nothing. Maybe. Something." She lets out a frustrated sigh. "It's complicated."

"Complicated how?"

"We might have..." She drops her voice to barely above a whisper. "You know. A few times."

I raise an eyebrow. "A few times?"

"Fine, more than a few." Her cheeks flush deeper.

"When did it start?" I ask. "You and Demyon?"

Megan's fingers trace the rim of her coffee cup. "Remember when I was staying at that safehouse in Monroe?" A small smileplays at her lips. "He was in charge of keeping an eye on me. God, he was such an asshole at first, all gruff and commanding. But then..."

"Then what?"

"We started talking. Like really talking." Her eyes go distant with the memory. "He'd bring me these awful gas station sandwiches and we'd stay up half the night talking instead of eating those. He'd tell me stories about growing up with Vadim, and I'd tell him about..." She glances at me. "About us. About Laura."

My throat tightens at Mom's name, but I nod for her to continue.

"One night, he brought me a bottle of vodka instead of sandwiches. Said if I was being honest with him, then he was going to be honest with me." She laughs softly. "Next thing I knew, he was kissing me and I was..." Her cheeks flush. "Well, let's just say those Monroe nights got a lot less lonely after that."

"I was wondering why the two of you were thick as thieves."

"God, were we that obvious?" She buries her face in her hands, blushing. "He just... he makes me feel things, Lace. When he looks at me with those green eyes, or when he calls mezaychik..." She shivers slightly. "The way he touches me..."

"Pump the brakes, I don't needthosedetails." I laugh.

"Sorry." But she's not sorry at all. "It's just... he's not what I expected. Under all that tough guy act, he's..." She trails off, staring out the window where Demyon still stands guard. "He's gentle. And funny. And he actually listens when I talk. Not just about my work. But about myself.”

I've never heard my sister talk about anyone this way before.

"God, I'm going to miss that big blond boy toy."

"Miss him?" The words catch me off guard. "What do you mean?"

Megan's shoulders slump.

"He can't come with me to New York. Even though..." She swallows hard. "Even though I really want him to."

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