Page 57 of Twisted Pact
“Absolutely not.”
She knits her brows together. “I wasn’t asking permission.”
“You can present virtually. I’ll arrange?—”
“No. I am going in person. I’m seeing my advisor. I will have coffee with my classmates. I’m living my life for one afternoon.”
“The risk is too high,” I counter.
“The risk of my going insane locked up here is higher. I’m done arguing about this, Alexei. Either you take me to the university, or I’ll find my own way there.”
I drag a hand through my hair, forcing my temper down while I think through the logistics.
A college campus is a fairly controlled environment. I could arrange for heavy security if I grease a few palms. It could work if I plan it correctly.
“Fine,” I relent through gritted teeth.
“Fine?”
“You can attend your presentation. But we do it with the precautions in place that I see fit. No arguments.”
She blinks at me like she can’t believe I’m agreeing. “Really?”
“Really. But Mila? If anything feels wrong, if I say we’re leaving, we leave immediately. No questions.”
“Deal,” she concedes with a quick nod.
“This isn’t a regular occurrence. One outing. One afternoon. Then we reassess based on how things go.”
“Better than nothing.”
I pull out my phone to text Boris. Within minutes, we’re forming a security plan. Six men. Two vehicles. Secure routes. Everything I need to keep her safe for a few hours outside the estate.
“When’s your presentation?” I ask.
“Thursday at two.”
“I’ll have everything arranged by then.”
She picks up her tea and takes a sip. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You might hate how much security I bring.”
“As long as I get to leave this house, I’ll take what I can get.”
Thursday arrives fasterthan I’d like.
I’ve spent the past four days planning every detail of this outing. Routes. Backup routes. Emergency protocols. Secure locations on campus. I’ve imagined everything that could go wrong and figured out how to prevent it.
Mila emerges from her room wearing dark pants and a cream-colored blouse. She looks professional and put-together. Nothing like the exhausted woman I found in the kitchen a few days ago.
“You look nice,” I tell her.
The faintest blush spreads across the bridge of her nose. If I weren’t so familiar with every detail of her face, I might’ve missed it.
“Thanks.” She glances at the ground. “I feel human for the first time in weeks.”
We head outside where two black SUVs wait. Boris and Nikita are in the first vehicle, and Denis and Anton are in the second. I guide Mila into the back of the first SUV and slide in beside her.
