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I busy myself straightening the papers on my desk. “I did not.”

“Yes, you did, honey.”

I grab the nearest folder and throw it at him. Unfortunately, he catches it and keeps grinning.

“Oh, Lord, you are down bad.”

“Get out.”

He leaves laughing while I mutter several things that would make Mama disapprove.

The afternoon blurs together after that. Somewhere around midafternoon, my phone vibrates again.

Alexei: I expect to be home before dinner.

I stare at the message while standing beside a rack of donated blankets. Then I look toward the lobby where Luka remains stationed near the entrance. The man has spent most of the day looking intimidating. He's very talented at it.

Before I can answer, my phone starts ringing.

Alexei.

“What now?” I ask.

“Is Luka with you?”

I stare directly at Luka. Luka stares back. A security guard stands beside him while another remains outside.

I plant a hand on my hip. “Alexei.”

“Answer the question.”

I tip my head back and sigh. “Yes.”

He pauses, then his voice lowers just enough for me to hear the satisfaction in it. “Good.”

The irritation I'd been preparing loses some of its steam. Because underneath the constant texts and phone calls sits a truth neither of us wants to talk about. He isn't doing this because he enjoys being overbearing. He's doing it because he almost lost Ivy. Because somebody broke into my apartment. And somebody is targeting the people he loves.

That realization takes some of the fight right out of me.

“You sound tired,” he says.

“I am.”

Another pause. “I'll see you soon.”

The simple promise wraps around me like a warm blanket. “Okay.”

The call ends, and I glance toward the office door. Then toward the parking lot beyond the window. Then toward the lobby, where Luka remains exactly where he was ten minutes ago.

Security is everywhere.

I lower my phone and lean back against the rack of donated blankets, chewing on my bottom lip.

Jules picks up on it right away. “What’s goin’ on with your face?”

I let out a breath. “I can't even buy a pregnancy test,” I whisper.

His forehead wrinkles. “What do you mean?”