And I’m an idiot for expecting things to be different.
“Okay, I can’t do this. I gotta go.”
“It’s too dangerous outside,” he says flatly.
“I meant to my room.” I’m not dumb enough to risk my safety, no matter how furious I am. “Alone. To get some sleep.” I shoot him a resentful look over a shoulder. “You don’t think we’re going to just act like everything’s fine, do you?”
And with that, I go to my room and slam the door.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Tolyan
Four days have passed since Angelika’s discovery. The little fawn is still in a snit. She does what she must to keep herself safe, which is good—some women act like emotional idiots and jeopardize their own well-being. But that’s about where her reasonableness ends. She gazes out the window as we go to the foundation, she doesn’t say anything to me when we’re in the office and she’s mulishly silent on the way home.
Cutely childish, but her options for expressing her anger are limited. She can’t leave, she can’t throw things at me, she can’t strangle me or stab me. Since I cook, she can’t even spit in my food.
So I get the cold, silent treatment.
The little fawn wants me to say I’m sorry. But I don’t want to lie. To be truly sorry, I must also believe that not only was I wrong, but if I could turn back time, I wouldn’t do it again.
But I haven’t done anything wrong. And if I could go back in time, I would simply be more careful so she didn’t find out.
However, that isn’t what she wants to hear. So I keep it to myself, and we maintain our odd sort of detente.
I go over to Dominic’s office. Antoine and I meet every two months to discuss security details. We alternate locations; this one happens to be on Antoine’s turf.
Antoine’s a dark-haired man in his late twenties, raised in the States but educated in England, which is where his ridiculous accent came from. He refused to lose it because it helps him “get more chicks.” Now that he’s married, he doesn’t need to keep up the pretense, but his wife likes the accent, so he keeps on as though he’s a Londoner.
We meet in his office. It’s sizable, but not overly so. He doesn’t keep much in the space, which is smart. But he has a framed photo of himself and his wife. She’s smiling by his side in the picture, like she has everything she could ever dream of.
I’m not a big fan of his wife. She’s Dominic’s baby sister, and I don’t believe anybody who shares his blood can really be good…except Thomas, because Lizochka’s goodness and brilliance can overpower the stupidity in his DNA.
The woman’s expression in the picture stirs something uncomfortable. I tamp it down before it can swell up and distract me.
Antoine hands me the security plan for Lizochka, Thomas and Dominic. I scan it. It’s good enough for most circumstances, but not right now.
“Double the security,” I say. “For Lizochka and Thomas at least.”
Antoine quirks an eyebrow. “Why?”
“It’s only until I say otherwise.”
He narrows his eyes, then lets out an exasperated sigh. “What the hell is going on, man? You know you can trust me enough to share.”
“But do I want to?”
“I think you do, since it will help me do my job better.”
True enough. Besides, Antoine is discreet. Comes with the job description. And I don’t have to tell him everything. Just some crumbs. “Keep it to yourself.”
He nods.
“There’s an unfinished task I need to check off.”
He arches an eyebrow. “An unfinished task?”
“There’s a criminal who is known as the Dealer. He’s in L.A. and he’s targeting one of the foundation’s employees.” I don’t say “intern” because then Antoine’s going to know exactly who. He doesn’t need to know that, not right now. I’m a firm believer in giving as little info as possible without compromising the objective. People who know too much think they’re in charge and tend to ruin good plans.