Page 175 of Lethal Legacy

“It’s all fine,” Mickey says shortly. “Just something at the lab Pavel wanted me to look at.”

“Oh.” I nod as if this is the most normal thing in the world, though why a fourteen-year-old has suddenly become indispensable to the lab is another mystery in a day of them. “And did you get it all finished?”

“Sort of.” Mickey meets my eyes briefly, then his slide away.

Something is definitely off.

Ofelia pulls the pot off the stove and pours chocolate into mugs while I put cookies on the plate. We carry them over to the small coffee table. She sits beside me, while Mickey perches on one of the sofa arms. Masha stays right where she is, glued to me like a limpet on a rock. I notice she’s sucking her thumb, which I don’t ever recall her doing.

“The dress Inger bought for me is awful.” It’s Ofelia who speaks first. “I can’t wear it, Luce, honestly. I just can’t.” She turns pleading eyes to me. “Have you spoken to Roman about it yet?”

“Not yet,” I say, smiling reassuringly at her. “But I will, as soon as I get a chance. Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll support your decision to wear a dress of your choice.” I have no idea if I’ll get any such chance, or if Roman will do anything of the kind.

I also don’t give a fuck.

Ofelia will wear what makes her comfortable, even if I have to hog-tie her bloody mother.

“By the time we go to pick your mama up, it will be too late for her to argue.”

I should feel bad about so blatantly undermining Inger, but I don’t.

I just don’t.

“Seriously?” The tremulous hope in Ofelia’s face is all the encouragement my inner demons need.

“Absolutely.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” She slumps back against the sofa in relief. “Inger will hit the roof,” she says flatly.

It’s not lost on me that she’s dropped the “Mama.”

Mickey snorts. “Not in front of the paparazzi, she won’t.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know why she’s making Masha and me go.”

“Mickey!” Ofelia hisses warningly, but it’s too late. Masha rears back, her face set in mutinous lines.

“Not gonna wear that dress,” she says, rubbing her eyes. I suddenly realize the source of her earlier tears.

“Oh, I see.” I stroke back the curls that are stuck to her damp forehead and make a face. “Did you get a dress today, too?”

Masha’s thundercloud frown grows even blacker. “Ithurts.”

“Well, that’s not good. Maybe I can have a look at it in the morning and see if I can fix it so it doesn’t hurt?”

She shakes her head violently. “I don’wanna!”Her voice rises in pitch, and tears tremble in her eyes.

“Okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.” I hold her close, taking deep breaths to calm my internal fury. I’m actually glad Inger is nowhere close by. I’m not sure I would be able to restrain myself from actual violence for causing this degree of distress.

“Don’ wanna,” Masha says into my neck, between sobs. “Don’wannago to a stupid ball.”

“Inger’s going to lose it if she’s not there.” Mickey looks grimly between Ofelia and me. “We’ve got to get her there, even if it’s just for the photo op.”

“Let’s worry about that tomorrow,” I say firmly, eyeballing them both. “Give me a chance to talk to Roman.”

“Yeah.” Mickey’s hard tone is back. “I might have a little chat with Roman, too.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” I smile at him. Whatever is going on between him and Roman, it’s best sorted out between the two of them. Preferably in the boxing ring, going by the look in Mickey’s eyes.

“So.” Patting Masha’s shuddering back, I nod at the TV. “Are we going to watch nobody put Baby in a corner or what?”

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