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“You sure know how to enjoy a meal,” he remarked with playful sarcasm.
I shrugged, my mouth still full of bread. “Food is one of life’s simple pleasures.”
He chuckled, sipping his coffee. “Can’t argue with that.”
Silence settled between us as we focused on our breakfasts.
The room was filled with the soft clinking of cutlery and the occasional sound of sipping.
Finally, my curiosity got the better of me.
Swallowing the last bite of bread, I leaned forward. “So, what do you want?”
He raised an eyebrow, a sly smile on his lips. “Well, princess, I have something interesting to share with you.” He leaned back, crossing his legs. “But first, tell me about your time in Russia. Do you like the view?” He gestured around the room.
I brought the cup of tea to my lips, savoring the warmth. “Not much to see when you’re held against your will.”
He scoffed and leaned forward, resting his hand on his chin. His other hand toyed with a butter knife, tracing its edges.
The amusement faded from his expression, replaced by a more serious look. His eyes searched my face, contemplating his next words.
“You’re leaving tonight,” he said as his phone buzzed with a text.
He quickly typed a response before returning his gaze to me.
My eyes widened in surprise.
The pieces slowly started coming together in my mind.
Volk had made the decision for me. He wanted me to leave, to go back to the States.
It was a shock to hear it from Alexsei, but somehow it made sense.
I blinked, trying to process the information. “Volk asked you to take me back?”
Alexsei nodded, got up, and strolled over to the window.
With his back facing me, he peered out at the winter scene beyond.
The rain had washed away the snow, leaving a muddy mess in the garden.
I followed his gaze, my curiosity growing.
A part of me didn’t want to be too excited in case everything was just a lie.
“Da,” he replied casually, still with his back to me.
He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lit one, and took a long drag, his gaze focused on the forest outside.
Turning around, he leaned against the window, his expression neutral.
“Igor will know everything tonight,” he said, taking another puff from his cigarette. “But Volk wants you gone. He thinks you don’t deserve to die,” he exhaled the smoke, the cigarette poised between his fingers. “Which I disagree with, by the way. No offense.”
I scoffed loudly, the sound filled with shock.
With a trembling hand, I brushed a few strands of hair away from my face, my throat tightening as tears threatened to escape.
“I’m innocent in all of this. I don’t deserve to die for the mistakes of others.”
