Page 51 of The Lies Between Lovers

“Okay. So he’s called a few times. And maybe left a message or two.”

Vaslav tipped his chin down to watch the water clean the razor once again. “It’s only natural that he’ll feel a sense of responsibility; for him to want to keep you safe, no? He’s an important man in his part of the world—why wouldn’t he keep an eye on the only child that’s decided to stay away?”

“I didn’t tell him very much about you.”

“I’m not sure I believe that.”

“I was more concerned with getting back to Russia,” she said simply. “And the situation going on with Hannah was enough of a reason to get him to do what I wanted.”

“Until his little spy feeds him more information, and then what?” Vaslav eyed her in the mirror, refusing to drop her blue stare when he said, “My bet is that he decides his daughter has found herself involved in some way with a man he considers ... what’s a good word?”

Vera swallowed hard enough for him to hear it. “I know what kind of man you are. You don’t need to make threats on my father to make it clear.”

“Actually, I’m working on sealing the deal, hmm?”

Her brow lifted. “Excuse me?”

“I won’t kill him,” Vaslav repeated as he tilted his head to the side for better access to the part of his scar that damn near met his ear. “When he comes here, because he will once he realizes there’s something his daughter has been keeping from him, I won’t touch him, Vera.”

“If what?”

Her question was sharp enough to sting.

Vaslav only chuckled. “If you tell him we’ll be married by the winter.”

Vera sucked in a fast breath, hissing back, “You can’t manipulate me into a marriage—”

“Who is doing that?”

“You. You just said that I had to agree to marry you or my father will die.”

“I did not say it like that, kisska.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.

“Why because you’re angry?”

Vera openly glared from the doorway, but Vaslav was unconcerned with her mood or that terse pout directed his way. If anything, it made his dick twitch under the weight of the towel around his waist with the mental image of that pout staring up at him while she was on her knees. At least, his mind’s eye wasn’t entirely dead.

“I only said you had to agree by the time he came here,” Vaslav added after a moment. “Because he will come here.”

He had a terrible habit of predicting the moves of others before they could even plan them through—he wouldn’t complain when it also kept him alive.

“And you don’t see how that’s manipulating me into the choice you want me to make?” Vera returned.

“Who said you wouldn’t want it, too?”

He should have taken more care to focus on cleaning his razor rather than the woman in the bathroom doorway, but he paid for his mistake with a deep nick from the blade on the edge of a particularly gristly part of scar tissue. His responding hiss of air came more from the sight of blood falling down his cheek than the burn from the minor cut.

Vaslav didn’t even have the chance to reach for the damp cloth he left hanging on the edge of the sink before Vera had stepped into the room and snatched it up. She slid in beside him, and that tender touch of hers warmed his cheek more than the cloth did. He barely thought about what he did next; she was too close for him to waste the chance.

He trapped her against the sink while her hand still pressed the cloth against the tiny cut and her gaze locked on his. With both hands caging her in against the rim of the black marble sink, he leaned down closer.

“It’s almost cartoonish when the beard’s shaved,” she told him quietly, referring to the scar she wasn’t even staring at. “Like the kind you see on a movie mask or in a comic book. I can see why you like to keep the beard.”

Vaslav arched a brow. “Except it’s attached to a very real face. I don’t always like to scare the children.”

“Are you going to let me move?”