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My heart rate kicks up a notch as my brain tries to make sense of the scene. I’m so stunned, I can barely spit out the words. “Where the hell have you been?”
Dark eyes flick to mine, and suddenly, Mel looks guilty. “I got a modeling gig and didn’t want to bother you since I knew you were busy.”
Translation: I decided to ignore our agreement.
Her eyes scan down my body, taking me in, and for the first time, I realize I must look more of a mess than she does. My hands are flecked with Roman’s blood, my black shirt crusted with my own, and my jaw throbs where Gavriil punched me, my lip twinging.
“What happened to you?”
“Your jilted fiancé put a hit out on me. I’ve been hauling ass back and forth across town looking for you for the last hour. I thought they must have taken you when I came home, and you weren’t there.” Fury swells in my voice as I realize my panic is due to Mel’s maddening need for independence.
And from the way she traps her lower lip between her teeth, I would say I’m about to get even less happy when she says whatever’s on her mind.
“Someone did find me on the subway, but I managed to shake them.”
Anxiety blasts through my chest, mingling with intense relief that she’s alive and safe.
But I could have lost her too easily.
The thought terrifies me.
My mind runs wild with images of one of my countless brothers hunting her through the tunnels of New York—Mel exposed and vulnerable and desperate to get away.
No wonder she was out of breath when she arrived.
She’s has been running for her life. Literally.
A second later, my fear swells into combustive frustration, consuming my heady emotions. This is exactly why we took precautions in the first place. The condo is the safest place for her right now, and Mel completely disregarded that. She put Silvia and Pyotr’s family at risk by bringing Gabby here. And Mel left herself exposed. All for a stupid gig.
“I told you not to leave the house without me. You didn’t even bother to call me.” I keep an iron grasp on my tone. But I have to clench my fists to stop the shaking as a volatile cocktail of emotions floods my veins. “What if you hadn’t been able to outrun the man on the subway? I expect you to obey me when I say I need to know where you and Gabby are at all times.”
“You don’t own me, Gleb,” Mel snaps, her temper flaring in rebellion. “I’m not a dog that needs to obey your every command.”
7
MEL
The tendon in Gleb’s angular jaw tenses beneath his skin, an uncommon display of emotion rippling across his face. His eyes flash dangerously. But he doesn’t argue with me.
Keeping my chin up to show him I’m not backing down, I glance past him toward Gabby. My little girl looks at ease in Silvia’s arms, though her big green eyes watch me with silent questions, and her thumb is firmly planted in her mouth.
“Thank you for watching her,” I say to Silvia, stalking stiffly past Gleb.
I can feel the energy humming from him, but he lets me pass without question, pausing our argument so we’re not hashing it out in front of Gabby or his boss’s wife.
“Call me later?” Silvia suggests when I reach her and juggle my shoes, to take Gabby in my arms.
Silvia’s gaze is a blend of concern and curiosity as it holds mine. It makes my eyes sting because it feels like at least Silvia cares about more than whether I know how to obey a command.
“Gospozha,” Gleb says, addressing Silvia in what I’ve learned is the Russian term of respect for a woman of Silvia’s station. He combs his fingers through his hair and glances toward me and Gabby.
“Take a car,” Silvia says, as if reading his question before he even asks it. “I won’t need it tonight. You can bring it back in the morning.”
“Spasibo.”
I know that one, too, from my time spent living as a guest of Pyotr and Silvia’s. Thank you.
Gleb inclines his head gratefully, and a twinge of guilt works its way into my gut because, once again, I’m proving to be an inconvenience. I’d hoped I could get back to the condo before he knew I was gone. Now, he’s spent his afternoon fighting off men who’ve come for him because of me and then thinking I was taken.
