Page 186 of Lethal Legacy

What else am I going to say?

“About the paparazzi,” I start tentatively.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re kept out of camera range.” He almost smiles. “I don’t imagine Inger will want to share the spotlight anyway.” He turns, heading for the door. “The makeup and hair people are here for you, too, not just the children. The car will be outside at seven. I’ll come by the apartment five minutes before to collect you all.”

“Roman.” The name chokes in my throat. His hand pauses on the handle, but he doesn’t turn around. “Can we... Tonight, after the ball, can we talk?”

His head drops slightly in what could be a nod, but he still doesn’t turn. “Yes, Lucia.” His voice is strangely thick. “We’ll talk tonight. You have my word.” He pulls the door open before I can answer and strides through it. The door swings closed, clicking into place with a chilling finality.

I stare at it for long minutes after he’s gone.

I grew up around men who issued kill orders. I’ve seen the way they treat people once that order is given.

It’s exactly the same way Roman just treated me.

As if I’m already fucking dead.

Ipass the day in a strange fugue state.

On one level, I go through the motions of getting the kids up, dressed, and fed. I let them all know I’ll be attending the ball, which slightly mollifies Masha’s indignation at having to attend herself. Mickey leaves early with Dimitry, who, notably, can’t seem to meet my eyes. Nor does the increased security detail escape my notice.

They’re making sure I don’t go anywhere.

Once, a few years ago, I watched some paranormal show where the characters could switch off their humanity. They showed it onscreen as a slow blink. One moment, the feeling, emotional person was present in the eyes.

Then,blink,they were gone.

It’s exactly the way I feel about running.

The time leading up to the moment of decision might be full of worry, second-guessing, and fear.

But when the time comes to leave, it happens in the blink of an eye.

It’s time to blink, Darya.

With a tired, heart-wrenching sense of resignation, I flick the switch in my head and become Darya Petrovsky again.

After lunch, when Ofelia and Masha go down for siesta, I call Abby.

“Hey, chica.” She sounds exhausted.

“I’m so sorry. Did I wake you? I waited until I thought you’d be up.”

“I’m up. It was just a hella busy night. Nikolai had the entire Cádiz FC in here, plus groupies. I had to watch a dozen of them drape themselves all over Miguel. Like I fucking care.” She yawns. “I didn’t get home until seven this morning, which pissed Dimitry off. I’m not sure he’s too keen on me working here now that Nikolai’s back.”

“I can understand that.” I’m surprised Dimitry didn’t just knock Miguel flat.

“And you won’t believe the skeezy fuck who was drinking with Miguel,” she goes on.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I can. Let me guess—Lance Ryder?”

She’s silent for a moment. “Hang on. Did he track you down again, Luce?”

“Yeah.” I shake my head. “But it doesn’t matter. Hey, Abs, I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“Anything.” Abby’s yawning insouciance is all gone. “But, Luce. Did you tell Roman about Lance Ryder? You should, if you haven’t. I don’t trust that fucker. He knows some bad people—”

“We’re going to talk about it later.” I brush over her question. “Listen. I have something I need to have delivered somewhere, but I’m going to be tied up with the kids all day before this ball, and I don’t really want to bother the security guys. Is there any chance I could ask you to come and grab it for me?”

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