Page 51 of Babies for the Boss
I felt something I had no prepared category for—a warmth that moved up through my chest and had nothing to do with strategy or management or the careful maintenance of a position. Pride, I identified after a moment.
Not the pride of a man displaying an asset. Something more unusual than that. The satisfaction of having something that a person you love finds beautiful, the pleasure of their pleasure.
I wanted her to like it. I find that I want her to like all of it—the house and the grounds and the room I had prepared for her, fresh peonies she didn’t ask for, and a window that faces the direction the morning light comes from because I know she likes morning light. I wanted all of that to land well, and watching her face as it did—watching her move through the rooms, trailing her fingers along the spines of books on the study shelf, turning to me at one point with a look that was equal parts wonder and something softer—all of it filled something I had not known was empty.
She makes me want to be seen. I am, of course. I am pakhan. Everyone sees me.
But she makes me want to be bare with her. Vulnerable. I find it strangely addicting to show her who and what I am.
19
MOLLY
“What’s his problem?”I ask Vet rhetorically as Igor stomps past my desk.
She shrugs. “He’s irritated. Probably the spy problem.”
I blink twice. “What spy problem?”
She clicks her tongue before saying, “Pavel didn’t tell you, or are you playing dumb?”
“We have a spy?” I don’t mean to whisper it.
“It would seem so.” I’ve never heard Vet sound guilty about anything. Not even when she told me she had skinned a guy. “I’ve been busy. But I should have figured it out already.”
“You mean, we don’t know who it is?”
“Da. The spy, or rather, the mole, I suppose, is undetected as of yet. But I’m on the case. It’s only a matter of time before I find him. Or her. Or them.”
I stare at Pavel’s door. Why the hell hasn’t he told me?
“Because he doesn’t want you frightened, most likely.”
“Did you just read my mind?”
“Your face is easy to read, Molly. I told you.”
This is making my head hurt. “When did he find out?”
“To my knowledge, shortly before your nuptials. Igor told him.”
“The wedding? His men moved me into the house in Southampton. They touched my things! They… I see them every day.” I look at my desk, my mind reeling.
The Vasiliev account is open on my screen, a column of figures I was in the middle of reviewing. The figures are still there, patient and indifferent, waiting for me to return to them. I look at them for a moment and think about the fact that I come to this office every day and sit at this desk and manage the legitimate face of my husband’s empire, and the illegitimate face—the one with informants and courtyard conversations about Fedor and thermal cameras on apartment buildings—is communicated to me through my bodyguard rather than through him.
“Vet.”
“Da.”
“You should not be the person telling me these things.”
She meets my eyes with the level gaze that never flinches. “No. I should not. Somebody higher ranking than me should be telling you.”
We both know who she means, and I appreciate that she doesn’t defend him. Vet doesn’t say things that aren’t true in order to make a situation more comfortable. It’s one of the things I rely on her for and one of the things that makes her, despite herhistory and her occasional terrifying competence with firearms, genuinely easy to be around.
I get through the rest of the workday by applying myself to the figures on my screen with the focused energy of a woman who needs somewhere to put her feelings and has chosen spreadsheets. It’s not the most emotionally sophisticated coping mechanism available to me, but it’s effective, and it produces clean results, which is more than can be said for most things today.
The drive to Southampton is quiet. Pavel has something on his mind, something he presumably doesn’t want to say in front of his driver. He asks me twice during the drive if I’m alright, which tells me he can read my silence, which is an odd feeling. It’s strange to be known on any level, but he’s always been good at reading me, even since before we started hooking up.
