Page 102 of Wicked Proposal
“Mazel tov,” I growl. “Now, explain why that’s my goddamn problem.”
“Because, if you’ve been getting it on with Mia, that means you’re not objective anymore.” He fixes his stare on me. For once, there isn’t a trace of humor on his face. “You’ve got to fire her, Yulian. For everyone’s sake.”
Fire her.
My blood boils. The thought of someone else on my arm—ofMiaon someone else’s arm—is enough to make my temples throb.
“I will do no such thing.”
“It’ll put her in the clear,” he says in a diplomatic, pacifying tone. “It’ll keep the plan going and it’ll keep her safe?—”
“Iwill keep her safe!” I bellow in Maksim’s face, all patience gone. “Mia signed a contract. She sold herself tome.”
“She didn’t sell her soul,” Maks shoots back. “She didn’t sell her life. Something that, in light of recent developments, you should be keen to preserve.”
“She means nothing to me.” I spit those words out like venom. “And you’re no one to tell me what to do. I’myourboss, not the other way around.”
“And I’m yourfriend,” Maksim counters. “I don’t want to see you getting hurt, man. Not again.”
With that, the fury fades.
The haze clears.
Finally, I see Maksim’s challenge for what it is: concern. Misplaced, but well-meaning. The concern of a true friend.
I sigh and slump back into my chair. “I won’t.”
“You will if you keep letting her in,” he protests. “That’s just what happens, Yulian. That’s?—”
At that moment, my phone vibrates. A text—from the only number I haven’t put on silent except Maksim’s.
MIA:First day of school. Couldn’t have swung this without you, so… thank you. For everything.
A thousand potential replies crowd my mind. Flirty, teasing replies that would bridge the past week’s distance between us.
I don’t type any.
Instead, I shut my phone and pocket it.
“Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“To look for my missing soldier.”
32
MIA
Yulian doesn’t reply to my text. Or the one after that. Or the one after the one after that.
He’s never been particularly loquacious—except for that flirty reply that one time—but this much radio silence? After we slept togetherandI slammed a door in his face?
Suffice it to say, I spend the night staring at the ceiling, counting how many years it’d take me to pay his advance back. Because, at this point, it’s clear I’ve blown it.
I shouldn’t have stopped sending selfies,I scold myself over and over. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I shouldn’t have been so unprofessional.
But then another, softer voice inside me says,He shouldn’t have broken your heart.
