Page 124 of Nine Months to Love
I study her face. She means it. Every word. I’ll be damned.
“What do you do?” I ask.
“I teach elementary school. Second grade.”
“That must be rewarding.”
“It is. The kids are amazing. So full of energy and curiosity.” She cuts a slice of banana bread and sets it on a plate. “I want to change the education system someday. Make it better for them. For my future kids, too.”
“You and Iakov are talking kids, then?”
She blushes. The color spreads across her cheeks and down her neck. “Not right now. But one day, I’d love to.”
I take another sip of coffee. Despite myself, I like her. She’s genuine to a fault.
Footsteps sound from down the hall…
… and then Iakov Zakharov appears in the doorway.
He’s wearing jeans and a white t-shirt and his hair is still damp from the shower. When he sees me sitting at his kitchen table, he freezes.
“Stefan.”
His voice is dead and grating. The rasping thud of a rusted lock.
Arielle looks between us. When she senses the hostility in the air, the smile fades from her face. “You two know each other, right?” she asks again.
“We’re acquainted,” Iakov grits out. His eyes never leave mine. “Arielle, go to the bedroom.”
“But—”
“Now.”
She sets down the coffee pot. Her hands shake. “Okay. It was nice to meet you.”
“You, too,” I say. “Thanks for the coffee.”
She gives me a small, tight smile. Then she leaves. Her footsteps fade and the bedroom door shuts.
When we’re alone, Iakov crosses his arms. “What do you want?”
“Sit down,” I say. “It’s about time we had an honest conversation.”
He doesn’t move for a long moment. Then he pulls out a chair and sits across from me. Taras positions himself by the door. His gun is still tucked away—for now.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“Who?”
“Don’t play games. My mother. Where is she?”
Iakov doesn’t look surprised. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m serious. She comes and goes as she pleases. Doesn’t keep me informed of her schedule.”
I lean back in my chair. “But you’ve been working with her.”
