Page 251 of Sexting His Assistant

I’m sick of waiting.

I turn away from the window and gaze at my purse on the chair.

The purse from the gala.

I haven’t opened it properly since that night. Yelena had it brought from the hospital with my things, and I let it sit there because I knew exactly what was inside.

Roman’s card.

I told myself I would throw it away. But something in me hadn’t let me.

I walk to the chair and take the purse.

My fingers are steadier than I expect when I open it. Lipstick. Compact. A folded tissue. The small card tucked into the side pocket.

Plain black. No name. Only a number.

This is a bad idea, my brain warns me.

I have become very aware lately of bad ideas while doing them anyway.

I dial before I lose my nerve.

The call rings twice.

Then he answers. “Nina.” Roman’s voice is deep. He sounds slightly surprised, but not enough.

I hate that.

“How did you know it was me?”

Roman says, “I gave that number to one person.”

“Maybe I gave it to someone else.”

“Ah, but you didn’t.”

I look toward the closed door of the room, then lower my voice. “I saw the footage.”

There’s a pause.

Roman says, “What footage?”

“Misha and Alina,” I say. “In the stairwell at her building. Luka found it.”

Roman’s quiet for a few seconds.

Then he says, “Tell me exactly what you saw.”

I shouldn’t tell him anything.

I tell him everything.

I tell him about the prisoner naming Misha, the garage keycard, the footage, Alina disappearing, Misha’s location being off, and the fact that Luka is now looking for him.

When I finish, my throat is dry.

Roman says, “Where are you?”