Page 58 of Mr. and Mrs. Novak

"What?!"

"Ruslan! Where are you? We’ve got a problem. Cyberattack on our servers. Everything’s compromised!"

Nicolas’s voice carries loudly enough for Natasha to hear. Her face drains of color.

"Shit. I’m coming."

I hang up and turn back to her, wearing an apologetic expression.

"I have to go."

She nods, used to coming second to business. That resignation tightens something briefly in my chest—but it doesn’t divert me from the objective.

"I understand. Go."

I put my shirt back on, grab my jacket, and place a brief kiss on her lips. No hesitation. No lingering. As I head for the door, I pause, as if reconsidering.

"I’ll call you."

In the hallway, I cast one last glance back as the door closes. Natasha is already heading toward the bed, eyes locked on the USB drive I’ve deliberately left behind.

The trap is set.

As I leave the hotel, I have only one urge: to rinse my mouth and take a long, scorching shower. To erase every trace of this night—even the memory of it.

31. Close Protection

SOPHIA

Ruslan has gone to meet Natasha, and the thought of what he’ll have to do to make her talk, to lull her suspicions, is unbearable. I know his plan. I know Nicolas is supposed to call him at a precise moment to give him a way out. But I’m not naïve. In fifteen minutes, they can do far more than simply talk over a drink.

I doubt Natasha will settle for just one glass of champagne. She wants him, and she’s not the kind of woman who lets time slip by without taking advantage of it.

I picture them already—bodies tangled together in that luxurious hotel room, their breaths mingling in a languid kiss. Maybe he’s touching her the way he touched me, making her shiver the same way.

After all, why would he stop himself? Not once since I discovered I was nothing more than an alibi has he told me he loved me. What we shared may have been nothing but sex, a burning parenthesis in the middle of chaos. I have no claim on him. No reason to expect anything.

I have to armor myself.

I went back to the penthouse, where Ruslan took precautions: two bodyguards—former special forces—are now with me around the clock. I should feel safe, but their presence only highlights my vulnerability. I'm stuck here, doing nothing but waiting for him to come back.

He’s moving with close protection as well. We have no certainty that Stanford knows about his involvement in saving me, but it’s better safe than sorry.

I try to escape my thoughts, to cling to something tangible. I lock myself in my office, turn on my computer, try to work. But every line I read blurs under the weight of my imagination.

My eyes drift to the clock. The minutes stretch on, unbearable.

Has he already laid his hands on her? Is he kissing her right now?

I check the time for the hundredth time.

Suddenly, the phone rings, shattering the silence and making me jump.

A glance at the screen.

Raphaël.

"Can you explain why you need close protection?" my brother asks the moment I answer, his voice tight.