The worry in Aleksandr’s voice reminds me that his neck is on the line here.I want to tell him I’m alright, but I’ve forgotten how my tongue works.
It’s the first time that I feel real fear. But it’s not for myself.
“f**k,” he mutters. “Is that blood?”
“It’s not happening soon enough!”
Vittorio reminds me of a petulant child. A petulant child with overgrownnose hair and saggy skin around his jowls. The only things he’s missing arethe foot stomp and a wobbly bottom lip, and the longer we stay herebickering, the more likely they are to appear.
“We moved up the wedding by six months, Vittorio,” I growl quietly. “Thatisn’t soon enough for you?”
Scowling, he taps his hand against my desk. “You’ve been engaged for overa year. You should have been married by now.”
“Y
