“You’re an angel for staying,” he said. “I’ve told her she needs to stop being such a bitch to you, when you do so much to help us out.”

“I don’t mind,” Ruby said. “I know she doesn’t really mean it. Some of the stuff she says to me when you’re not here can be hurtful, sure, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. But I’m not here for her—not really. I’m here for Leonie.”

“I’ve seen the kind of things she says to you, on the cameras. You shouldn’t have to put up with that. Not with everything you do for her and for us.”

It was good to know that the occasional spats they staged for him were being noted and having the desired effect.

“We don’t fight the whole time, you know.”

“No, I know. Sometimes you watch TV.”

“You watch us doing that?”

He laughed. “No, I don’t have time for that. I just … check in sometimes. That’s all. You don’t mind, do you? Too ‘stalkery’?” He laughed but didn’t wait for her to answer. “She’s out of order, picking on you. I could have another word with her. Make her stop.”

She stroked his arm, attempting a distraction. “Honestly, it’s not needed. I think you’re being overzealous.”

He caught her hand, pulled her toward him. “Have you thought about us recently?”

“It’s all I’ve thought about.”

He kissed her, then, before she could pull away. He held her arms as she struggled to free herself, keeping her there a little too long. The strength of him. If he’d wanted to do anything to her, she wouldn’t have been able to stop him. She stilled herself with every ounce of strength, fighting the urge to fight him, to push him away. He smelled of cloves; his tongue darted past her teeth, sweet and poisonous.

“Gregor,” she hissed, fear coursing through her, making her tremble. She hoped he assumed it was because she wanted him so badly. “We can’t—I told you before. It wouldn’t be right.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He studied her face, his lips parted. She tried to gaze at him with the longing she had once felt, which had now turned to ash. “I find it so difficult to be near you at the moment.” He pulled her into a too-tight hug, the hard muscles of his arms bruising her cheekbone. “Can I come and see you later? At your place, I mean.”

No, never, she thought. I don’t want to be alone with you even for a moment.

“At my place?”

“I want to hear your piece. I haven’t heard it for so long. The opening section has been in my head all day.” He hummed the theme, the tritone that spanned the first bars, setting the mood for the rest.