Valentina POV
Sofia’s words lingered in the air: “Your fiancé is downstairs.”
I stared at her, trying to process what she’d just said. “…My what?”
She didn’t bother hiding the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “The very tall Russian.”
For a moment, I genuinely wondered if I’d misheard her. Nikolai? here? At Belladonna? Without warning, without an appointment, not even a text message? It was so unlike him that I almost doubted my own memory.
“…He’s downstairs,” I repeated slowly, as if saying it out loud would make it more believable.
“Yes.”
“In this building.”
She nodded, deadpan. “That’s generally where downstairs is.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Sofia.”
“What?”
“You’re enjoying this.”
She pressed her tablet to her chest, attempting an innocent expression that fooled no one.
