I’ve seen the expression Pakhan is wearing before. Mal has looked at me exactly like this a hundred times, when I’ve said something he thinks is even more insane than what I’m usually saying.
“Did he tell you to say that?”
“No.”
Pakhan’s eyes are bloodhounds, lie detectors, and CIA agents interrogating prisoners at Guantanamo. If they could waterboard me, they would.
I let him look. Nuts or not, I’m not lying.
After what feels like eons, he says, “Are you sleeping with him?”
What the actual f**k? I take a breath and try to keep my face and tone calm. “Yes.”
“So he’s forcing you.”
Irritation jolts through me. Indignant on Mal’s behalf, I speak more sharply than I should.
“No. He would never force himself on me, even if he wanted to. I know that because he did want to. As a matter o
