Page 182 of Sexting His Assistant

“That’s your right.”

“Are you using her?”

His expression does not change. “That is a large question for a first dance.”

“This is not a dance. This is an interrogation with music.”

This time, he almost smiles. “I see why he likes you.”

My stomach tightens. “Don’t talk about him.”

“Luka?”

“I said don’t.”

Roman studies my face for a second, and something in his expression shifts, not soft exactly but less amused.

“All right,” he says. “Then ask what you really want to ask.”

I should ask about Alina. The pregnancy. The call on Luka’s phone that I still have not told him about. The garage attack. The man in the grey jacket. Any of the things that make sense.

Instead, one detail from my morning with Misha cuts through everything.

“I saw your name on my brother’s phone,” I say.

Roman’s steps don’t falter.

That tells me more than any flinch would have.

“Did you?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Recently.”

He looks past my shoulder for a moment, then back at me. “And you want to know why your brother is speaking to his enemy.”

“My brother’s not your friend.”

“No,” Roman says. “But he’s not my enemy.”

I scoff. “He’s Luka’s best friend.”

“Yes.”

“And you are Luka’s rival.”

“Yes.”

“So forgive me if I struggle with the idea that you and Misha are exchanging friendly updates.”

“They’re not friendly.”

“Then what are they?”

“Necessary.”