Page 162 of Mile High Ruin

His mouth almost moves. “You barely know her.”

“That doesn’t mean she should spend her birthday pretending it doesn’t matter.”

For several seconds, he says nothing. Then he sets the coffee down. “I will think about it.”

I narrow my eyes. “That sounds like a no.”

“It means I will think about it.”

“I’m interpreting it as permission.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Too late.”

He shakes his head.

I smile.

And for a few seconds, standing in his house planning a birthday for a girl I met properly less than an hour ago, everything feels almost normal.

Which is becoming the most dangerous feeling of all.

26

VADIM

I think about Sloane’s suggestion for two days before I admit she is right.

Not about everything. That would be intolerable.

Only about Mila.

My younger sister has spent so much of the last few years trying not to be noticed that the rest of us have learned to let her disappear, and somewhere along the way we began calling that kindness. We tell ourselves she prefers quiet, that she dislikes attention, that giving her space is what she needs, but when Sloane looked at me across the breakfast table and said maybe Mila doesn’t ask because she expects nothing, the words stayed with me longer than I wanted them to.

So on Sunday morning, I tell Anton to have the dining room prepared. Nothing elaborate. Dinner. Cake. Flowers from the garden. The people Mila actually knows and trusts.

Marek stares at me as though I have announced plans to join the ballet. “You are throwing a birthday party.”

“A small one.”

“For Mila.”

“Yes.”

He looks toward Anton, who looks back at him with the same expression.

Iosef, sitting at the far end of the table with his laptop open, slowly stops typing. “This was Sloane’s idea.”

It’s not a question.

I pour coffee. “That is irrelevant.”

Marek smiles. “So yes.”

“Do you have something useful to contribute?”

“I’m still processing the fact that you are arranging cake while Petrov is actively trying to kill you.”