8. Natalia

8

NATALIA

"Katya's here."

"Is she?" I shrug like I could care less. "You should let Shura know."

Mila sighs. "She's here to see you, Nat."

My instinct is to go all snotty bitch on her ass. But the emotional upheaval of the last few days tempers my less-than-gracious nature. "Oh, fine," I concede. "Let her in."

Katya slips into my room a few minutes later with a nervous smile. "I'm so glad you're alright, Nat."

No thanks to you. But at this stage, I'm not even sure that's true.

What kind of life would I be living now if Katya had listened to me? Sure, I'd have some money and a ticket out of this city. But where would I have gone? Who could I have relied on? I'm seven months pregnant with twins, and as much as I wish I could deny it, it feels more and more like Katya was the sensible one between us.

I'd like to say I'm evolved enough to let her off the hook immediately. But I don't. Let's blame it on pregnancy hormones.

"Define ‘alright.'"

She sighs, exchanging a glance with Mila that clearly says, She's behaving exactly how we thought she would.

Needless to say, their telepathic shit-talking doesn't improve my mood.

"I know you're pissed."

"Why is it that every time you meet a man, your loyalties shift?"

Katya's jaw drops. There's pin-drop silence in the room before she regroups. When she does, she looks as pissed as I feel. "This has nothing to do with Shura. My loyalties have been and always will be towards you!"

"Yeah? You sure have a funny way of showing it."

Mila drifts between us as though she's worried someone's going to throw a punch. I happen to know that Katya has a mean right hook. Courtesy of years of practice dating assholes.

Me, on the other hand… well, there's a first time for everything, right?

"You freaked me out when you called, Nat!" Katya cries, brushing past Mila with fire in her eyes. "You sounded bad on the phone. It reminded me of… of…" She sucks in a deep breath before charging through the end of her sentence. "… the time you first told me what happened to your parents."

That shuts me right up.

"I figured you were in shock, and, sue me, but I didn't think it was a good idea for you to be wandering around New York City, pregnant and alone. Particularly not when you'd just shot the man you love !"

My heart is hammering against my chest and my arms are alight with goosebumps.

"So yeah," she continues, "I called Andrey. Not because of loyalty to Shura or Andrey or anyone else, but because my best friend was having a mental fucking breakdown and she needed help."

I still don't know what to say. How to breathe. What to do with my hands.

"If you're looking for an apology, don't hold your breath," Katya says, still standing tall on that soapbox of hers. "Because I don't regret calling Andrey. I'd do it again if I had to."

Mila reaches gingerly for her. "Kat?—"

"No!" She swats away Mila's hand. "I get that she's fragile right now, but she doesn't get to blame me just so that she has an outlet for her anger. I'm her best friend, not a punching bag."

The truth hits me like I'm its punching bag.

"You're right," I croak.

It does feel good to channel my helplessness into anger. It does feel good to blame someone else, even if that person doesn't deserve it. Maybe even especially when that person doesn't deserve it.

"I am?" Kat coughs and tries again. "Uh, I mean… Yes, I know I am."

I swallow my pride. "You don't owe me an apology, Kat. I'm the one who's sorry."

"OhthankfuckingGod." She lunges at me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and squeezing like a python. "You're forgiven."

I can't help but laugh. "You didn't make me sweat long."

Katya releases me with a teary laugh. "I'll save the sweating for when you've delivered those babies safely."

"That's generous of you."

She winks. "I'm nothing if not generous."

Just like that, the tension breaks. Not the guilt, though. That stuff has a way of lingering.

Katya claps her hands decisively. "Okay, now that you no longer want to kick my ass, what shall we do today?"

"I'd really like to get out of the manor for a bit. Even if it's just to your place."

Mila opens her mouth like she's going to argue, but Katya plants her hands on her hips. "I'll make it happen. Leave it to me."

She prances out of my room and then shimmies right back in a few minutes later with a huge smile on her face.

"All set. We're heading to my apartment to spend the day. How does that sound?"

"Perfect."

Misha will be busy with physical therapy for the next few hours and Remi's with him, so I peek in to say goodbye.

And mostly, to reassure Misha that I'm not going anywhere. Not yet, anyway.

Then Mila, Kat and I crowd into the back of a blue Escalade driven by Leonty and we head out of the nice part of Manhattan en route to Hell's Kitchen, which is… well, slightly less nice.

The closer we get to Kat's place, I'm reminded of the days when it was just the two of us, sitting on the floor of her living room, knocking back boxed wine and cheap candy. Just us. No distractions. No fears.

It'll be like that again, if only for a few hours.

Or a few seconds, since the moment I walk into Kat's living room, I come face to face with Shura. Kat greets him with a quick peck on the cheek, refusing to look at me.

"Hello, ladies," Shura says nonchalantly. "I'll just retreat to the bedroom and give you some privacy."

I stare between the two of them. "Are the two of you living together?"

Katya blushes and shakes her head. "No, no, of course not. It's way too soon for that."

That's when it hits me. "You're here on Andrey's orders, aren't you?"

Katya swats Shura's arm. "You were supposed to stay out of sight!"

"It's a small apartment," he says with an unapologetic shrug. "My only orders were to stay inside with you."

"My orders are more important than Andrey's," Kat argues.

"Leonty's parked out front in the Escalade," I say. "What could possibly happen?"

"Nothing," Shura announces. "Your two shadows will make sure of that."

Kat cringes, shoving Shura in the chest. "Jesus, Shura. You couldn't have phrased it a little better than that?"

"She might as well get used to it. Andrey isn't going to let her out of his sight until—" His voice trails off as I storm into Katya's bedroom and pull out my phone.

Snapping the door shut, I settle on her bed and concentrate on dialing Andrey's number. "Hello, lastochka . What can I do for you?" His voice is deep and silky smooth.

My heart does this weird, trembly little quake that makes me want to smack myself in the head. "You can tell me why your freakish little goons are following every single step I take."

"Shura will keep to himself. You can still have your girls' day."

"Not the point . "

"The point, Natalia, has always been to keep you safe. Now more than ever."

"I'm safe," I retort. "Now, tell Shura to leave."

"I'm not going to do that. If that's all?—"

"No, that most certainly is not all! We need to talk about this. There has to be some sort of compromise."

Despite my anger, his deep, dark chuckle sends a wave of excitement and longing shooting through my core.

"I'm not the compromising type, lastochka . You should know that by now."