Do I really believe that Kolya could ever be a part of a trafficking ring?

No. The answer is immediate and resonant. And yet… my heart is beating with panic at the possibility that I might be wrong. What if my love for him is blinding me?

What if… what if… what if….

I’m still wearing his shirt. Not because I’m cold, not because it’s comfortable. I’m still wearing it simply because it smells like him.

Knock-knock-knock.

I stash the phone underneath a cushion of the window seat before I answer the door. Kolya stands on the other side with my suitcase at his feet.

I raise my eyebrows. “Does this mean my punishment is over?”

“I wasn’t about to let you go traipsing all over this place without your clothes.”

“Scared of who might be ogling me?”

“Fucking terrified of it, kiska. You’re mine. No one else’s.”

He isn’t teasing when he says it. My heartbeat flutters in silent response. He strides into the room with my suitcase clasped in one huge hand.

“Although you do look good in my clothes,” he adds.

“I’m glad. Because you’re not getting this back.”

He chuckles. “It looks better on you anyway.”

I take a half-step towards him, longing for his warmth, even as I’m hating myself for wanting it. There was a moment back in the gazebo when it felt like we were on the cusp of something. If he had reached for me, I would have let him. If he had kissed me, I would have kissed him back.

When our eyes lock together, I feel as though we’re both thinking the same thing. And then—

Ping!

My eyes go wide with panic, and his expression twists from desire to suspicion instantly. He knows. I don’t know how he knows, but he knows. Just then, another ping echoes through the room.

“Kolya—”

He brushes past me and goes straight for the offending cushion. He grabs the phone and freezes the moment he sees Adrian’s name across the screen.

I square my shoulders, but guilt hangs too heavily on me. I’m not even remotely convincing. “It’s not what it looks like.”

I don’t know why I’m defending myself, but the way he’s looking at me right now makes me feel like I have to.

“No?” he asks darkly. “Because it looks like the two of you have been chatty fucking Cathy for days now.”

“That’s not true,” I insist. “He’s been texting me, yes. But I haven’t been responding. The conversation has been completely one-sided.”

“And yet you didn’t tell me about it,” he points out.

“I wasn’t aware that I was supposed to.”

“Cut the shit, June. You knew exactly what you were supposed to do. You just didn’t want to do it.”

“You make it sound as if the right thing to do is so goddamn simple!” I snap back, finding my anger again. “You don’t even know what he was texting me.”

“Lies, I’m sure.”

“Videos,” I tell him. “Pictures. Of you having a long conversation with Iakov.”