Page 37 of Baby for My Ex’s Dad

“Your face?”

“Kirill—I hear he…” My stomach turns.

“Ah. You heard about Miss Wood.”

“Didn’t know her name.” I have to lengthen my stride to keep up with Pasha, but he’s good at keeping Potato’s carrier level, and now I don’t have to cart him back, so I’m happy to struggle to keep up. “What was the story there?”

“It’s not for a woman’s ears, Miss Thea.”

“And when he was done with her, neither was her skull.”

He stops in his tracks to stare in shock at me.

“Okay, that was a little gruesome, but I think I’m entitled to my gallows humor, considering everything. I just… Pasha, I want to know what I’m up against. What happened with Miss Wood?”

He takes a deep breath, then continues the hike. “I don’t have all the details. But from what I know, she spurned Mr. Sokolov.”

“So, it was personal. That’s good. I’ve never even met Sokolov, so he has no reason to treat me like a banana.”

Pasha says nothing, but his face tells me everything.

“She’s not the only one, is she?”

“I’m afraid not. Peeling is an effective encouragement for cooperation, so he tends to employee it more often than anyone should.”

I rub my arms for warmth, and I’m not sure if it’s the weather, or if it’s what he just said. Maybe both. “Super.”

“I hope that means you’ll remain in the estate, going forward.”

Slowly, I nod. “I’m not much to look at, but I’ve grown used to my face, and I’d like it to stay exactly where it is. So, yeah, I’ll stay in the estate.”

“That’s not true.”

“But I just said I’d stay⁠—”

“No, not that.” He smiles down at me. “You’re very much to look at. That’s a face worth saving.”

My face worth saving heats up. “Um, I… thanks.” We continue until it dawns on me, “You said the peeling’s an effective encouragement for cooperation. So, how do I know you’re being honest about it, or if you’re using it as effective encouragement?”

“Unless required by Mr. Vernigora, I’ll never lie to you, Miss Thea.”

I don’t want to believe him, but I do. Pasha has this innocent thing about himself. I suspect that even if he was ordered to lie to me, he wouldn’t be good at it.

“Okay. And stop calling me Miss Thea. You’re older than me. It’s weird.”

“As you wish.” We round a copse of trees, and when a cold breeze hits, he adds, “I’m not that much older than you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve always been more comfortable with people who are older than me. People my age… they’re usually kind of boring. Older people have lived. They have stories and scars and experience.”

His lips curve shyly. “Perhaps one day I will share my stories with you.”

“I’d like that.”

The gate swallows us back inside, and he locks it behind us with a big key from his pocket. A black car sits in the courtyard. The west wing is lit end to end.

Maxim is home.

His voice reaches me before the stairs do, low and terrible, and Pasha leaves with the carrier and a look of pure sympathy. We both know I’m in trouble. Not sure who he’s talking to, but it’s about me. And it’s angry.