Page 193 of Sexting His Assistant

That’s fair. Painfully fair.

The light turns green.

I drive. “I’m trying.”

She looks out of the window again. “I know.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I’m not fully convinced.”

At least she’s honest.

“What did you want me to do?” I ask.

She turns back. “Trust me for longer than five seconds.”

“That’s not simple for me.”

“It isn’t simple for me either,” she says. “You think I’m comfortable with this? I spent months watching women come in and out of your life. I spent yesterday thinking one of them was pregnant with your child. I slept with you anyway. I came to this gala with you even though I knew people would look at me. And then the moment something happened, you acted like I had failed some test I didn’t even know I was taking.”

I say nothing. There’s nothing useful to say yet.

She’s right.

“I can handle anger, Luka. I can handle you being difficult. I can even handle you being bossy when there’s a reason. What I can’t handle is feeling like the second I don’t explain myself perfectly, you put me on the other side of the room from you.”

That image sits in my head.

My phone vibrates in the console.

I glance down.

A text from Sergei.

Everything okay? You slowed down.

I look at the speedometer.

Shit, he’s right.

I’ve dropped almost twenty below the limit without noticing.

For a second, I don’t understand how it happened. Then Nina shifts beside me, quiet in the passenger seat, still turned partly toward the window, and I realize I’ve slowed because I’m dragging out the drive.

Because once I reach her apartment, she will get out, go upstairs, close the door, and I’ll stand in the hallway pretending that walking away from her is a choice I make easily.

I’m a grown man with enemies, responsibilities, a wounded shoulder, and a security team following two cars behind me, and I’m driving like a teenager who does not want to drop a girl home after a date.

Nina sees me glance at the phone. “What?”

“Nothing.”

I signal left.

Nina’s head turns. “This isn’t the way to my apartment.”

“I know.”