Page 46 of Nine Months to Love
“He blamed me,” I tell Taras in the present. “Rightfully so. His father backed the wrong horse, and it cost him everything.”
“And you’re surprised he wants revenge?”
“No. If I were him, I’d want revenge, too.”
“So why risk meeting him?”
“Because I need to know what he knows. And because running from him makes me look weak.”
Taras sighs, recognizing a lost cause. “Fine. I’ll find out where he spends his nights. But we’re not going alone.” He raps his fingers on his knee as he thinks. “What about Mikayla? She might know something else that could help us out.”
“She won’t talk.”
“You realize that, in order for a nut to crack, you need to apply pressure, right?”
I’m shaking my head before I can even begin to consider what he’s suggesting. “I’m not going to hurt her.”
Taras raises an eyebrow. “Since when?”
“Since it won’t work. She’s too well trained. No amount of torture will get her to spill now.”
“Then you should kill her.” He sighs heavily. “But we both know you won’t do that. And we both know why.”
I don’t deny it. How can I? It’s Olivia he’s talking about, and he’s absolutely on the money. That woman has crawled under my skin, into my blood, changed me at a molecular level.
He stands, stubbing out his cigarette. “You know what? Looks like you’ve developed a conscience after all.”
“Is that a problem?”
“For you? Probably. Consciences are expensive in our line of work.”
“Find Iakov,” I tell Taras. “Set up a meeting.”
“You sure about this?”
“No. But we’re doing it anyway.”
He heads for the door, pausing at the threshold. “What about tonight? Still planning that dinner with Olivia?”
“Yes.”
“You think that’s wise? Given everything?”
“I think she needs to understand what she’s gotten herself into.”
“Or maybe you’d like to getyourselfinto ‘something.’”
My jaw clenches. “Taras, from the bottom of my heart… fuck off.”
He laughs, closing the door behind him.
Alone again, I return to the orchids. Their petals are starting to curl at the edges, beginning their slow death. I touch one gently and nearly sever my tongue when that tiny bit of contact sends it drifting to the floor.
Dead at a touch. How fitting.
17
OLIVIA
