Page 137 of Marrying the Savage

“The one who helped me getting the invite to Damir?” I say.

“Arman, yes,” she says. “But he’s also helpful in other ways.”

I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Listen, you just need to find a way back to the city,” she says. “He’ll take care of everything.”

When I don’t say anything, she says, “Sofia, did you hear me? Can you convince your husband to let you out of the house?”

I have had very poor luck with choosing recently.

“Yes,” I say.

Anya is quiet for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“No.”

“Good. Certainty is overrated.”

“I regret everything.”

“You don’t regret everything.”

I think of Damir’s mouth. His hands. His ring.

His face when he saw me in Elena’s dress.

His body over mine, inside mine, careful when he could have been cruel.

“I regret enough.”

Anya softens. “Then get out long enough to breathe.”

A sound comes from the corridor. My body goes alert.

“I have to go.”

“Tonight,” Anya says. “I’ll text details.”

“Don’t use names.”

“I know.”

“And Anya?”

“Yes?”

“If this goes badly⁠—”

“No.”

“But—”

“No. We’re not doing tragic speeches before lunch.”

My throat tightens. “Fine.”

“Good. Also, for what it’s worth, I still think you’re insane.”