Page 131 of Sexting His Assistant

“I know.”

“With two guest bedrooms.”

“I know.”

“And a shower that has mood lighting.”

“That was not my decision.”

“You live alone in a place with mood-lighting water, and you want to sleep on my couch?”

“Yes.”

I cross my arms. “Why?”

His jaw tightens. “I just need to.”

“That’s not an explanation.”

“It’s the one I’m giving you.”

“Misha.”

“Nina.”

We stare at each other.

His eyes are tired.

That’s what makes me stop pushing immediately.

I want to shake him until information falls out. But beneath the irritation and suspicion, I can see something else. A strain around his mouth. Shadows under his eyes. The faint edge of panic he is trying to bury under older-brother authority.

Something is wrong. Very wrong.

And he is not ready to say it.

I sigh. “Fine.”

His shoulders loosen slightly.

“But you get the couch,” I say. “And if you complain about my cushions, I will throw you out.”

“I have slept in worse places.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

Of course it wasn’t.

He walks to the window again and looks down at the street.

I watch him from the kitchen doorway. “Did someone follow you?”

“No.”

I step closer. “Misha.”