Page 77 of Defiled Innocence

“No. That’s bad. But don’t tell Dmitri. He doesn’t like it when I’m bad.” I roll to my side. “Promise.”

“Alright, I promise.”

I give him a thumbs-up and let the darkness sweep me away.

Dmitri

Rage heats my skin as I read the text exchange between Christian and my wife again.

I’ve been fisting her phone for the last half hour while I’ve waited for information to get back to me. I’m not sure what he’s up to, but I’m damn sure there’s no startup company.

“Mr. Dragunov, she’s up.” Maria pops her head into my office. I’d asked her to bring some toast and water and a bottle of aspirin up to my hungover bride.

“Did she eat anything?” I ask, already out of my chair and walking toward her.

“Not yet, she said she needed to brush her teeth first.” She smiles. “She looked a little pale, but I’m sure she’ll be better after she eats something. Do you want me to bring up something more filling, maybe some eggs once she’s finished her toast?”

“Let’s see how the toast goes first,” I say, heading toward the stairs.

Amelia’s just walking back into the bedroom when I step inside. Her hair’s pulled back in a messy bun on top of her head, loose strands falling around her face. Maria’s right. She does look a little pale.

“Good morning.” I close the door behind me.

She lifts a hand in greeting and sits on the edge of the bed.

Maria left the tray on the dresser, so I grab the water and aspirin bottle and bring it to her. After shaking out two pills, I hold them out to her.

“You’ll need this. But you need to eat so it won’t upset your stomach.”

She winces, probably at the memory of getting sick last night.

“Thank you,” she says, taking the little white pills and the glass of water from me.

After she swallows them, she takes a few more sips of water and puts the glass down on the nightstand.

“Are you mad at me?” she asks, sliding back onto the bed and pulling her feet up.

“Why would I be mad?” If Boris hadn’t been there, her head wouldn’t be the only thing hurting on her today.

But he was, and she was with a friend.

“Because I got drunk at a bar.” She half smiles. “On fireball shots, of all things, that some guy gave us.”

“Some guy gave you?” Okay, maybe I’m a little upset. Boris left that part out.

“Well, not gave, just invited us to take a round with him and his friends,” she explains. “I think they wanted us to hang out with them, but after Sarah told them my name, I think they got scared.”

“How?”

She looks up at me, her eyes still glossy from her adventures last night.

“She told them my name is Amelia Dragunov. She also told them I was married to you, which is when one guy got a little pale, and they made an excuse to leave.”

“Ah.” I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t fill me with pride that my name alone can protect her.

“But my name’s not Dragunov. Not yet. I haven’t had time to go to the social security office.” She picks up the glass and takes another small sip.

“It’s already done. I had it taken care of.”

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