Page 72 of The Lies Between Lovers

“You can’t just—” Vera hiccupped, and tears started to fall. “—use the damn windows like doors, Kiril! Is that even your real name?”

“Da, no Smith.”

“I figured,” she whispered, wiping away the streaks left behind on her cheeks. “Not very Russian, is it?”

“It’s a common enough name.” Kiril lingered by the sink, eyeing her warily. “Do you need anything—something to make the tears go away?”

“That’s not really how it works.”

And it had been a terrible couple of days.

“Do you need help with that?” he asked, nodding at the pile of papers on the table.

Vera stared down at them, too, silently willing herself to just put it all away. Last night, she’d found the contact for Mr. Anatoly’s advocate information rather quickly in his small office. A cluttered space filled with years’ worth of medical textbooks and files she didn’t know where to even begin with—not to mention all the house plants.

At least, those were the easy parts.

The attorney had everything ready for the passing of his client, unsurprising given Mr. Anatoly’s age, but was unhappy to hear of the events surrounding the death. Vera wasn’t a big help in that regard.

“No, I think I’ve got it,” she said. “His second cousin is flying in next week to discuss options with a lawyer hired to handle his will and estate but for the most part ...”

Kiril raised an eyebrow when she trailed off. “What?”

“Well, you’re looking at it. The villa will go to his estate like everything else inside, and be sold at auction. The lawyer said I was welcome to take any plants or books or pictures, if I wanted. I was just trying to organize some things I found in his office.”

She waved at the hundreds of legal papers that spanned decades. From his documentation when he became a doctor fifty years ago to his marriage certificate. She hadn’t known Mr. Anatoly and his deceased wife had been married in Hungary, but it was an interesting bit of the man’s history to find.

Kiril looked around the quiet kitchen, and even peered into the darkened hallway just outside the space that led to the rest of the villa. “You couldn’t do that over at your place?”

Well ...

She could.

“I felt less alone over here,” she admitted.

Even if she was still alone.

At that, Kiril let out a disgruntled noise and a long, “Ugh.”

She barely even had time to comprehend his problem before the young man came back to sit at the table again. He gestured between the two of them, saying, “Fine, I’ll stay. If Igor asks, you tell him I didn’t “disturb” you.”

He even made air quotes.

“Agreed?”

Vera blinked. “Okay?”

“You just look so sad.”

Did she?

“I don’t like it,” Kiril added, glancing away. “The sad stuff, I mean.”

Poor kid, she thought.

He actually had a heart.

Vaslav Pashkov would eat him alive.