And I do.
Every photo making me nauseous.
I look up at her through lashes wet with tears.
One photo shows my face in a moment of raw, open bliss as I ride him.
Another shows Anton’s hands in my hair, his mouth nearly on mine.
The third is one of the stolen kisses in a dark alcove Anton promised had no cameras.
But by the angle, the picture wasn’t taken with a security camera.
Someone had been there.
Watching.
“Sit,” she says.
It’s not a request.
I climb up from the floor and sit on the bed. My pulse drumming in my ears. My hands are shaking so badly I have to give her the phone back. I don’t want to see any more pictures.
She knows.
They know.
We’re dead.
“Who sent them?” I ask quietly.
Will it be quick? Will they make me watch them kill him first? Or the other way around.
“Someone in the house.”
I go cold.
“What?”
“You’re being watched, Lena. How could you be so reckless! So stupid!”
I drop my eyes. “I don’t want to marry Mikhail. I want Anton.”
“He’s not an option.”
“Will Mikhail kill me?” I ask.
“If he finds out, yes.”
I look up at her. “He doesn’t know?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. The pictures were sent to me thirty minutes ago.”
“Why?”
“A warning.”
“A warning. Blackmail?”