Page 219 of Sexting His Assistant

Mirov looks at Luka.

Then he looks back at me. His look says enough. He’s a brave doctor.

Mirov gives me discharge instructions, makes Luka listen to them as if he is the actual patient, and leaves after telling me not to work, drink, drive, make major decisions, stare at screens too long, or get knocked unconscious again.

“That last one feels difficult to plan around,” I say after he leaves.

“We’re planning around it.”

Something in his voice makes me look at him. He’s standing too still.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

He picks up the bag and sets it closer to me. “Get dressed. I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

I stare at him. “My apartment?”

“No,” Luka says.

“That wasn’t a real guess,” I say.

“No,” Luka agrees.

“Where?”

“My house.”

The room goes quiet.

I sit up a little straighter. “Your house.”

“Yes,” Luka says.

“I’m not moving into your house,” I say.

“You are staying there until your apartment is secure and Misha is found.”

I narrow my eyes. “You decided this already.”

“Yes,” Luka says.

“Luka.”

“Nina,” he says, and then he stops himself.

I see the effort.

He exhales and starts again. “Your apartment was broken into. You were attacked. Your brother is missing. I can put security at a hotel, but hotels have staff, cameras, elevators, service corridors, and too many strangers. My house is controlled, and my mother is there.”

“Your mother being there is supposed to make me less nervous?”

“Yes,” Luka says.

It does, unfortunately. A little.

I look at the bag again, then at him. “Does she know I’m coming?”

“Yes,” Luka says.