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When he doesn’t answer, I walk to the stairs, summoning a sense of ease that’s opposite the anxiousness knotting my stomach. Every step feels as if I’m dragging a dead body. “Boss…” “Who were you talking to?” His question is casual enough, but an edge lurks beneath it. “No one—” “Don’t fucking lie to me.” The commanding tone of his voice renders me speechless. It takes me a few moments to summon my courage and whisper, “Since when have you been listening?” “Why is that important with regards to divulging the identity of the person you called?” He takes one step toward me. “I’m not asking because I can’t find out on my own. I’m asking to give you a chance to tell me yourself.” My heartbeat thunders in erratic intervals, not allowing me to think properly. It doesn’t help that Kirill is approaching me in even, steady strides that mess with my line of thinking. For the first time in a long time, I’m acutely aware of how big and imposing he is. There’s a predatory quality to the way he walk