Page 87 of Silenced

“That was what she wanted to know? If I was going to ask her?”

Dmitri grimaces. “She asked if she should buy a special dress. I told her that if youdidinvite her when you’ve never invited anyone to one of these parties before, you’d supply the outfit. Because you’re a control freak.”

That last part is muttered beneath his breath.

My lips dance for a moment. “You know me too well, son.”

He sniffs. “Been stuck to your side, God help me, for long enough to know how you work.” His gaze darts to the door. “You going to ask her?”

“Myata?” I chuckle. “Fuck no.”

“I meant Cassiopeia.”

I just smile at him.

His brow furrows. “You’re different.”

“Unlikely,” I counter, gaze dancing over the goddamn blog that has been a pain in my ass for too long. “You’ve still no idea who is behindI told you so?”

“No.” He studies me before releasing a sigh. “From the tone and the language, it’s a woman, but I’ve no idea where she’s based or how she gathers so much information on so many factions.”

“She has a death wish.”

He hums. “What are you doing with Cassiopeia?”

“Keeping her safe. Just like Misha requested.”

“Da, but you’re doing something else too because he’d know she was here and wouldn’t think you put her on a plane.”

“Since when did you start assuming that you could question me?” I don’t bother looking at him as I flick the words his way.

“Since we’re keeping an innocent, already-traumatized woman hostage in your bedroom.

“Nikita says she hasn’t been out of the master suite once, and the maids all say she screams whenever you’re in there.”

Ignoring him, I switch screens, drifting from today’s blog post to yesterday’s—a discussion about the writer’s belief that the Irish Mob is behind a recent spate of ‘accidents’ some politicians are experiencing.

It could be dismissed as a conspiracy nut by an average Joe, but the blogger is damn accurate. Too accurate.

With a sigh, I switch onto my YouTube account.

Scanning the history, I find that Cassiopeia has been watching dozens of videos from one channel in particular. A popular one. Millions of subscribers, tens of millions of views.

Dmitri nudges my arm as he turns around and perches on the side of my desk. “Niko?”

Tiredly, I slouch in my desk chair. “What, Dmitri? Do you want to know if I’m torturing her, is that it? I told you that she’s mine. What I do with her is my business, not yours.”

“I’m not okay with you hurting her. Not after what she’s been through!”

I arch a brow. “And what has she been through?”

His shoulders hunch. “I looked into her. That bastard made her life hell. He had her committed—”

“He had her committed?” I demand, outraged and uncertain if I heard him right.

I don’t realize that I spoke the words aloud until Dmitri frowns at me. “Are you sure you’ve never met her before?”

Only in a past life…

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