“I’m a killer for hire.”
“You’re the closest thing to perfect I’ve seen in this fucked-up world.”
Baffled, I stare into his eyes. “You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t tell me what I mean or don’t. I don’t mince my words.”
No, he doesn’t. You’re the closest thing to perfect. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Yan cares about me.
He picks up the check. “Let’s go.” When he helps me to my feet, all traces of his gentleness vanish. “I want to swing by your friend’s place to see how she’s advancing with our painting.” And just like that, he’s back to being the dangerous man Gergo warned me about.
24
Mina
We get back to Yan’s place in the late afternoon, after he’s assured himself our fraudulent painter is on schedule with the Salvator Mundi replica. Ilya is lounging on the couch with a beer. He informs us Anton is picking up the sniper rifles from their supplier. The apartment looks surprisingly clean. Ilya must’ve been busy. I hope that’s why he looks so disgruntled and not because the air between the brothers is far from cleared.
Yan announces he has private business to take care of. While I hang the dress in Yan’s closet, I hear him asking Ilya if he’ll get it right this time—it meaning making sure I don’t escape.
Ilya answers with a grumbled, “Fuck you.”
Great. So the air isn’t cleared, after all.
When Yan is gone, I make myself useful and keep out from under Ilya’s feet by doing the laundry and pondering what to cook for dinner. However, I’m too distracted for even such a mundane decision. I can’t stop thinking about Gergo’s daring appearance and Yan’s planned revenge on my assailants. I worry about Hanna, too. I wish I could call her.
After going through the contents of the fridge for a third time, I slam the door with a sigh. It’s useless.
“What do you feel like having for dinner?” I ask Ilya.
He crosses his ankles on the coffee table. “Whatever.”
“That’s not helpful.” Sighing again, I tidy the lounge by picking up the old magazines and Ilya’s empty beer bottle that’s leaving a wet ring on the wooden coffee table top.
“Mina,” he exclaims when I straighten.
I give a start. “What?”
Pointing at my face, he jumps to his feet. “Your nose. It’s bleeding.”
“Shit.” I press my free hand under my nose so I don’t get blood on Yan’s immaculate mohair carpet and rush to the kitchen where I dump the bottle and magazines in the recycle trashcan before grabbing a kitchen paper towel. Tilting my head back, I wait for the bleeding to stop.
“Let me see that,” Ilya says, coming up next to me.
“It’s nothing. It happens sometimes.”
He takes my elbow. “Come sit down.”
“No. I don’t want to stain the carpet.”
“Fuck the carpet.” He leads me to the table and pushes me down in a chair. “Do you need ice or something?’
“No. It’ll stop in a minute.”
“You say it like it happens a lot.”
“Sometimes,” I say again.
He takes his phone from his pocket. “I’m calling Yan.”
“No.” I grab his arm.
At the urgency in my tone, he gives me a quick look.
“I don’t want to worry him for nothing,” I explain.
“It’s not nothing.”
“It’s a nosebleed. It’s not like a part of my face has been amputated.”
He appears uncertain.
“I don’t want to bother him,” I insist. “It’s a silly thing.”
“None of the times my nose bled was silly.”
I smile from behind the fumbled kitchen towel. “Because you got hit on the nose?”
“More or less.”
“I’m sorry Yan hit you because of me.”
He sighs and rubs his neck. “Yan’s right. You should stop apologizing.”
“I just want you to know I mean it. If I had a choice—”
“Bullshit. You only had to ask. Yan would’ve taken you to see your grandmother.”
“Do you believe yourself?” The dripping stops. I wipe my nose and stare at Ilya’s bruised face. “I’m not his girlfriend. This isn’t how it works between us.”
“He’s different with you.”
“So you’ve said, but it doesn’t change what we are. Besides, do you honestly think I want my grandmother to meet him?”
He grins. “He’s not so bad, you know.”
“Maybe you should tell him that sometime.”
“Oh, he knows it. He doesn’t need a bigger head than what he already has.” Ilya ducks his head for a better look at my nose and frowns. “You better rinse that with cold water.”
I get to my feet, but he holds me back with a hand on my arm. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
My smile is the one I use when I assume a persona. “Absolutely.”
“You’d tell me, right?”
“Tell you what?”
“If something was wrong.”
Shit. I don’t want to lie to him more than I already have. I like him. Really like him. If not for this situation, I think we could’ve been friends. Maybe even despite the situation. God knows, I could do with a friend, especially now that Gergo is out of the picture. He used to be my go-to when I needed a shoulder.
“Mina?” Ilya stares at me, his rough features pulled into a suspicious expression.
“I’m okay now.”
His frown says he disagrees. “Why don’t you go wash your face? I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
I smile at his kindness. “That’s sweet, but not necessary.”
“I’m having a cup anyway. It’s no trouble.”
In an impulsive gesture of gratitude, I throw my arms around him and give him a hug. “You’re a teddy bear, you know that?”
He splays his fingers over my lower back. “If you change your mind about us…”
“Hey.” I move his wandering hand away. “We already had this discussion, remember?”
“I can be more than cute and cuddly.”
I grin up at him. “I don’t doubt that.”
“If you give me a chance—” He stops at the sound of a key being inserted into the front door.
I pull away and whisper urgently, “Don’t tell him. Please. He’ll fuss over nothing.”
Ilya’s look is conflicted.
“Please, Ilya.”
He gives a tight nod.
By the time the door opens, I’m already escaping to Yan’s bathroom. He walks in as I’m
