10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Z oya

The next morning, I not only woke up in Lash’s bed, but he told me it was okay for little Miska to sleep with me. It’s a comfort to have her snuggled close to my chest. When I asked Max if the pup could join us in bed, his face got thunderous, and he threatened to throw the dog across the room if she ever put her paws on the bed.

“Zoya?” Lash calls from the other room, reminding me that I took the poor guy’s bed. Just hearing his voice calms me, though. He’s been so kind.

“Yes?”

“Can you come out here?”

It’s only now that I realize that the smell of bacon is curling through the air. I throw on another of Marissa’s dresses, sunny yellow this time, and pad barefoot to the kitchen where Lash has an assembly line of toast going. The stack looks high enough for six people.

“The chicken salad sandwiches you made last night were amazing. Now you’ve made me another breakfast? Maybe I can cook pierogies and sausage for you tonight?”

“Sit. Eat. I have news.”

Though he’s smiling, which means four of his long fangs are visible instead of the two that show when his mouth is at rest, every muscle in my body tenses. It’s been a long time since the word “news” wasn’t synonymous with the word “bad.”

He sets a plate heaping with bacon and eggs in front of me, then motions to the stack of toast with three jars of jelly in the middle of the table. Until I hear just what, exactly, this news is, I’ve lost my appetite.

After pouring us each a cup of coffee, he sits across from me and takes a bite.

“Marissa called. Her lawyer friend, Samantha, was quite sympathetic to your situation. She’s moved on to corporate law now but interned at an immigration firm. The two of them should be here in about an hour.”

“Here? An hour?” My hand flies to my hair, which I haven’t even brushed yet.

“You look fine, but you have plenty of time to eat and get ready.”

Even though my mind is whirling with worry, it would be hard not to notice the look in Lash’s eyes. It’s full of affection.

One thing at a time, Zoya. You have no business getting a crush on someone when you’re legally bound to marry another man—and facing deportation to a place thousands of miles away.

An hour later, the four of us are sitting in the living room, introductions have been made, and Samantha, a happy blonde with an easy smile, is gripping a legal pad. As she begins asking me questions, her demeanor becomes all business.