13. Chapter Thirteen #2
“Am I interrupting?” Sergei’s voice jolts through me. I jerk upright, and the sushki jar tips over, spilling the bagel-like cookies across the island. I manage to catch one midair before the rest roll off the edge.
“Oranges!” I exclaim, flustered.
Sergei strides in and rights the jar. “Oranges?” he repeats, picking up a sushka.
I avoid his gaze. “I can’t cuss in front of kids, but sometimes the urge is strong, so I say ‘oranges’ instead. It satisfies the need.”
Urge? Need? Why does everything I say sound so… sexual?
“Interesting,” he says.
If I felt flushed before, his presence ignites an even deeper heat within me. “What do you do,” I ask, briefly meeting his eyes, “when you need to curse but you’re with Misha?” I take a bite off the sushka. Maybe having it in my mouth will prevent me from blurting out something idiotic again.
“I use Russian.” A sly smile creeps onto his lips. Though halfhearted, it softens his expression.
“I was wondering,” I say, glancing between Sergei and Nadia, “if you’re Ukrainians, why do you speak Russian?”
Nadia opens her mouth to answer, but Sergei beats her to it. “After the dissolution of the USSR, most people in the cities spoke Russian in their day-to-day lives because of the influence of Soviet policies and education, so that’s what I grew up on.”
“Maybe you could teach me?” I blurt out before I’m able to grab my question and push it down my throat.
Seriously, why does it sound like I’m in heat?
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Nadia glancing back and forth between us, a silent observer of the ongoing madness I’ve started.
“How to say oranges in Russian?” Sergei asks, amusement shining on his face. “Or did you mean proper Russian curses?”
Nadia mumbles something in Russian, prompting a quick glance from Sergei. “It’s late,” she says, rising from the table. “I should go.” She places her cup in the sink. “Until tomorrow.”
“Until tomorrow,” Sergei replies, but his attention never fully shifts from me as Nadia leaves the kitchen.
I finally swallow the sushka, clearing my throat before asking, “Would you?”
“I’m not sure how those would be helpful in your role as my son’s nanny,” he answers, reminding both of us of my position in his life and in the family.
“I might have already picked up a word or two. Anton curses like a sailor, especially when he’s driving,” I joke.
“I’ll have a word with him about that,” Sergei promises.
My stomach drops. “Oh, please don’t.” Without thinking, I reach out for his hand. When the warmth of his skin spreads to my fingertips, I quickly withdraw. “I was just kidding.” The last thing I want is to get anyone in trouble.
He takes a step away from me, leaning against the counter, arms crossed—clearly a signature move of his. “Did you enjoy your day off?” he asks.
A fresh wave of panic rushes through me. Does he know about my meeting with Daniel, that I agreed to help investigate him? “It was good,” I manage to say, dryness returning to my throat.
Why did I eat that damn sushka?
I take a bigger sip of tea than intended, the scalding water burning my tongue and throat. Instantly, a sharp pain grips my mouth, leading to a fit of coughs.
“Are you okay?” he asks, tapping lightly on my back.
I nod as I clasp my hand around my mouth, trying to catch my breath. After a few more coughs, I manage to stop but notice that Sergei’s hand doesn’t move from my back. Only when I lift my gaze to his does he quickly pull it away.
“Oranges?” He quirks a smile, a knowing glint in his eyes.
“Definitely oranges,” I admit, already feeling my tongue becoming sensitive. Absentmindedly, I press my hand to my chest, as if able to feel the warm liquid swishing with the fearlessness of a wild river. Sergei’s eyes track the motion. The silence between us stretches for a moment too long.
“I met up with a friend, and we spent the day together,” I hurry to explain, hoping my voice doesn’t betray me.
His eyebrows knit together in a frown. “Is this the friend who gave you my business card?”
“Oh no, that was Layla. This is a different friend.”
“I see.” He pushes away from the counter and strides toward the door. “Misha and I are going to church tomorrow.” He pauses at the threshold, and I sense he wants to say more but decides against it.
“That sounds nice. I... I’ll just stay in and maybe read a book,” I lie. Because tomorrow morning, while Sergei and Misha are at church, I’ll sync the UFED with Sergei’s laptop like Daniel requested.
Nadia’s assessment of Sergei replayed in my mind all night, keeping me from finding any sleep.
Though I don’t know him as well as she does, I can’t help but agree that he isn’t the type to leave a woman, the mother of his son, to die alone in some alley.
That’s why I need to help Daniel with this investigation, so he can see Sergei couldn’t have hurt his wife.
I stay in my room while I wait for them to leave for church, afraid that seeing Sergei will make me lose my nerve.
Misha’s shouting echoes in the hallway as Sergei’s low voice calls for him.
Suddenly, my doorknob rattles, sending me into a cold sweat.
I freeze at the sound of Sergei’s voice outside, telling Misha to leave me be.
After a few tense minutes, I wait for the elevator doors to shut, then listen carefully to ensure they’re gone before exiting my room.
“Why am I tiptoeing?” I murmur to myself as I realize what I’m doing. I pace past Sergei’s office door once, twice, three times before stopping in front of it.
Taking a deep breath, I reach for the handle and slowly turn it.
I expect it to creak like in the movies, but it stays silent, amplifying my galloping pulse.
Pushing the door open, I step inside. As I inch forward, I can’t help but wonder if Sergei has cameras in his office.
I know I should stop and reconsider, but I don’t.
If Daniel gains access to Sergei’s computers and finds nothing, maybe he’ll finally move on and find Alessia’s real killer.
All I need to do is place the UFED near the computer, wait for the light to turn green, and the wireless connection will be established.
Easy peasy.
The only issue is that Daniel wasn’t sure how long this might take.