I glare at him when she goes stiff, but he ignores me the whole time he continues to prep Sandra. His questions are still harsh, but he does pause when he sees her having a hard time.
I don’t think anyone notices, but it’s like he’s also taking a break. At first, I think I’m making things up and he’s only doing it for Sandra’s sake, but then I focus on him—like, really focus.
He’s flipping through a document, and although his movements are calm and measured, they’re longer than usual—as if he’s enduring something.
As if he’s in the midst of a crisis and he needs to remain calm for it.
His shoulders crowd with tension and his eyes are still dark, less gold, less bright. Almost as if the color has been sucked out of them.
There’s something else, too. His breathing, it’s short and clipped, and his chest rises and falls in a slightly irregular rhythm. But when he speaks next, his voice is still in that calm range, as if it’s disconnected from the rest of him.
By the time he announces we’re done for the day, everyone appears drained.
Not him.
He looks furious. Almost like he has otherworldly energy accumulating inside him and he can’t get rid of it.
Or won’t.
I want to stay behind and…do what exactly? It’s not like I can ask him what’s wrong and actually get an answer.
But I can try…right?
For some reason, it feels like he shouldn’t be alone right now; if he is, some sort of a disaster will follow.
I’m probably reading too much into it. In what world is Knox not okay? He always appears to be put-together and so perfect, I’m kind of envious.
And okay, maybe I’ve often wondered what I’d see if I reached into his armor and took a peek.
Maybe he’s not so perfect on the inside, maybe there’s a haunted, troubled part I could see for myself.
“Jane?” Sandra’s voice pulls me away from my hyperfocus on him.
“Yeah?”
“Can you walk me out?”
“Sure.” I steal one last glance at Knox, but he’s concentrating on some paperwork, so I leave without even a glimpse of his golden gaze.
Isn’t it weird that I have an unhealthy phobia of eye contact, but I crave it with him?
That should be strange.
Abnormal.
And yet, it’s all I keep thinking about for the rest of the day.
His eyes, his perturbed state.
Him.
I contemplate texting him, so I type.
Are you okay?
Then I delete the text before I send it. We’re not really on good terms, especially after yesterday’s public unprotected sex incident.
But even after I get home, I’m not looking forward to my lonely night where I’ll eat leftovers and spend the rest of my evening searching the internet for what the men in my old life are up to. I’ll be focusing over every detail and be a paranoia freak.
I sit in my dimly lit studio apartment. It’s shabby and old, but it’s not in a bad neighborhood, so I don’t have to worry about unwanted attention.
My typing slows and I stare blankly at the hundreds of pages open on my laptop.
Is this how I’m going to be for the rest of my life? On the run, obsessed, and always scared?
The thought of Babushka being hurt forces my hands to carry on the spying mission. If any of them find out what I’m doing—
I shake my head, refusing to think about the consequences. It’s not that I’m doing something wrong; I’m only trying to protect myself and my grandma.
The doorbell rings and I freeze, then immediately close my laptop.
Holy shit.
They found me.
“Deep breaths,” I whisper to myself in a shaky tone. “They can’t find me. I used a firewall, I blocked my IP address. There’s no way in hell they can find me.”
Unless Kirill and Aleksander suspected something and followed me?
No, no. They would’ve been here yesterday if that were the case. Hell, they would’ve grabbed me by the hair in the restaurant and dragged me back instead of letting me go.
But what if Kirill told Adrian?
Shit. He’s the mastermind of hacking. He could’ve broken through my firewall and intercepted my IP and found me. He’s here now and will—
“Anastasia, open up, I know you’re in there.”
My breakdown pauses at that voice. The beautifully accented voice that I would recognize not only from behind closed doors but even if it were coming from underwater.
A weight slowly lifts off my chest and vanishes into thin air as I head to the entrance.