Page 45 of Silent Ties

“I like that so much better. You?” she asks me through the mirror. I nod. “Can I give you some advice, love? You need a different lipstick. That color is all wrong, makes you look ghoulish. Try something from Chanel. They never do me wrong.”

The remnants of a dark lip stain are all that remain on my chapped lips. I’m taken aback by how she delivers her feedback. Yelena snips and sighs. Gia’s an auntie coming to the rescue.

Though, for a moment I stiffen when she leans in closer, her breath against my ear.

“The best revenge against a mother-in-law—”warm brown eyes pin me in the mirror—“is to take the son.”

She teases my strands, smiling softly like she’s helping. If only she understood how flat the advice falls.

That would require the son to want me.

I try to smile and she squeezes my shoulder before she exits the bathroom, my fairy godmother departing.

CHAPTER 13

Russet

I’m not sure what I notice first. Max going in and out of the room several times or the sound of his voice on what seems to be a constant thread of phone calls. I roll over in the bed, the sheets rustling. My hand snags a strand of hair as I open my dry, tired eyes.

“What’s going on?”

He’s sitting on the edge of his side of the bed. Silvery streaks of light from the window illuminate his hard face.

“What’s wrong?” I sit up, though my limbs want to sink right back into the covers. But Maxim doesn’t move. He’s too still, his eyes unblinking. Fingers wrap tightly around his phone and it glows with a new phone call. “What’s happened?”

Or rather what’s happening because whatever this is, it’s unfolding now.

“Go get dressed,” he whispers.

“Why?”

“I want you to go to my parent’s house.”

“No.” I press my knees to my chest, my back digging into the headboard. I don’t want to be forced into Yelena’spresence any more than I have to. It’s bad enough it’s a Thursday, and my weekly gloomy lunch plans mock me. “What’s going on, Max?”

I don’t like the way he watches me.

“Did something happen?” I move onto my knees, the sheets tangling as I inch toward him. “Max?”

The phone lights up with a text, but he doesn’t acknowledge his phone until my fingers brush against his. He switches the phone to his other hand, out of my reach.

“Stop it,” I demand, my heart ramping up. “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

With typical bluntness, he does. “Five bodies, bearing all of Marissa’s trademarks, were found an hour ago.”

For several minutes all I feel is constricting tightness in my chest.

“Who?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Max, who?”

Pins and needles begin in my arm, going down the entire left side. Spots of color burst in my eyes, though the room remains dark. “Five people? Who?” I keep repeating the word when he doesn’t reply fast enough. I know he’s going to tell me they were women. They always are. “Did they. . .”

Marissa’s trademarks. He means. . .

“They were raped,” he confirms. “Several faces were beaten making it hard for us to identify.”

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