CARSON STARED ACROSS THE table at the short-cropped blond, a knot twisting his stomach into a nauseous swirl of anxiety. He wasn’t sure he could even eat the breakfast sandwich the lady set in front of him now that Vasily glared at him.
Squirming in his seat, he took a deep breath. “I already told your sister who I was. It’s up to—”
“I know what you told her,” Vasily said, cutting him off. “And I don’t buy it. It makes no sense. There’s no way you’re Anya.”
Carson sighed. “You’re right. I’m not Anya.”
Vasily opened his mouth, a twinkle in his eyes as if he had just busted Carson in a lie.
However, before he could shout in triumphant glee, Carson held his hand up, halting his outburst. “I used to be Anya, though.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him. “Look, I’m not s
