Shaun slipped from the bed, pulling on a fluffy bathrobe provided by their hosts as she hurried to the door. She didn't want the knocking to wake Jozef, though he was sleeping heavily, snoring loud enough to wake the recently departed. With a hand at the top of her robe, she opened the door. "Yes?" she asked sleepily. "Your morning repast, Mrs. Koba." A servant spoke in halting English, waving toward a cart with covered trays. Shaun stepped back so he could wheel the cart inside. He placed the covered trays, a pot of coffee, cream and sugar on the small table next to windows with panoramic views of the rear mansion park. Shaun could definitely get used to this kind of service. "This is for you, ma'am." The servant held a card out to Shaun. Shaun sat at the table, opening the envelope, her curiosity peaked. It was an invitation, quite fancy, considering the contents. It was written in English, in sprawling calligraphy.
Shaun sucked in a breath as images from that day slammed through her. She had worked with her counsellor on mitigating their impact, but when the head of the Vor told her she was meant to be dead, it was like a fresh wound being ripped open again. "So I've been told," she murmured, bringing her teacup to her lips with a shaking hand. "You survived." He didn't sound either approving or disapproving, and Shaun wondered where the direction of the conversation was going. "You were poisoned, and you survived. You were attacked, stabbed, and you survived. Your husband was attacked, many within the building fell, yet you still survived." A chill ran through Shaun and she felt nauseous. She desperately wished she'd told Jozef where she was going. Was Ivan angry over the deaths that seemed to follow Shaun? Did he blame her for what happened to Krystoff? She didn't know what to say to Ivan, but he'd paused, seeming to expect some kind of response. "Yes, I survived."
Fatima giggled at Shaun's description of a drunk Jozef. "He must've been a bear the next morning," Fatima mused. "It seems so out of character for him to overindulge." Shaun laughed and sipped the rich burgundy liquid from her wine glass. "He was certainly growling like a bear. It took a lot of convincing before he would let me take care of him, but I finally got some painkillers and toast into him and he turned back into a human. Later, he told me he rarely drank that much and didn't plan on ever doing it again." "Famous last words." "Yes," Shaun agreed. "Though Jozef is usually pretty responsible. I think it was the excitement of meeting with the other Vor for the first time. I wonder if the other wives discovered drunk husbands in their rooms that night?" Shaun was filling her mother in on the details of her trip to Russia with Jozef. The five days spent at the palace were indeed the vacation Jozef had suggested they would be. Except for evening m
Nikolay had a bad feeling. He'd had it for months, but when no one accused him of betraying Jozef, he'd shoved the feeling aside. They didn't know. He was safe. Then why did he feel like the sword of Damocles was hanging over his head, awaiting the right moment to drop? "Saskia." He'd been standing in the shadows outside her suite, waiting for her to appear. She was coming down the hall toward him, her blue headphones wrapped around her neck, her wild brown hair a messy halo around her head. She wore tight ripped jeans, a black hoodie and running shoes. It hit him that she was really quite beautiful in her own way. He'd never found her particularly attractive when they'd dated. She was too wild and headstrong, and he preferred his women compliant. Submissive. Not words one could use in association with Saskia Koba. Yet, in this moment, with the light of the sun behind her, she looked ethereal. He felt a moment of loss, but quickly shook it away. His
Jozef didn't know what to do. It was a strange sensation for him. He always knew what to do, but this time he was out of his element. He crouched next to Shaun's chair, holding her hands in his as she sobbed. He hated every tear that crawled down her face. He was usually the one to cause her tears, but this time, it wasn't him. It was the doctor who'd disappeared discreetly from the room. They were in the fertility clinic where Shaun had gotten her referral. They'd been called to the clinic for the results of their first round of testing. Her tears dripped onto his hands where they were clasping hers. He bowed his own head, blinking back his own tears. Her heart was breaking, and he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't kill the thing without hurting the woman he loved more than anyone or anything in the world. He couldn't kill PCOS. Polycystic ovary syndrome. Shaun was infertile and the diagnosis was destroying her. He would have to take go
"Krystoff..." He moved closer to the bed. Dasha squinted against the harsh glaring light, but he still looked like nothing more than a shadow, frustratingly insubstantial. She knew it was him, though. She knew his shape, his scent, his touch... She'd poisoned him. More than once. She hadn't regretted it at the time, but she regretted it now. She worshipped him. She shouldn't have manipulated his love. Soon she would be with him again, and she would have to explain her actions and hope he could forgive her. Dasha had poisoned her first victim when she was five years old. Miss Anya. She'd hated her nursemaid. The woman was sour, dour, and no fun at all. She insisted Dasha wear dresses and always have her hair brushed. She was never allowed out if the weather was bad, and she was always made to complete her studies. If she didn't learn her letters, then she would get a sharp smack across the knuckles. Dasha had overheard her mot
Your mother is here, Jozef signed, crouching next to the bed. Shaun looked at him, tears bright in her eyes. She hadn't stopped crying in almost two days. She tried to tell herself to snap out of it, to stop feeling sorry for herself. But she couldn't. Of everything that had happened to her in the past few years, this felt the worst. It was the final straw. She couldn't take anymore. "I don't want to see her." Jozef frowned, thunderclouds growing in his eyes. You turned her away yesterday, which we allowed since you need time to heal, but you will not turn her away today. You need your mother, and you will see her. He was the epitome of patience when it came to Shaun and her feelings, but he wasn't going to allow Shaun to push her mother away. She could already see it on his face. He thought she needed her mother, and he wouldn't take no for an answer. She pushed herself up on the bed, feeling dizzy and nauseous. She hadn't left the bed si
Dasha woke with a start, the clicking of heels on the tiles of the hospital floor reminding her of muffled gunshots. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm her pounding heart. Slowly, painfully, she sat up, reaching for the water on her nightstand. The process was made awkward by her other hand being cuffed to the bed. She'd been transferred the day before. She'd waited as long as she could manage before finally giving away her condition. She'd been in so much pain, the poison twisting her guts; the fever raging through her that she'd raved with hallucinations. Screamed obscenities at the prison staff as they strapped her to a gurney and moved her. She took long sips of water, pulling it through the paper straw. It felt like heaven against a throat raw from days of vomiting. Her hand shook as she set the water down. Collapsing against the pillows, she forced herself to stay awake, to keep alert. She was here for a reason. Someone had poisoned her. Not some