37

Jealousy that I thought was reserved for Kristina washes up my spine. Hunching over a box, I dig through, barely looking at the details on the paperwork as I talk in a clipped tone. “He and you must be very close after all that time together.”

Mila snorts. The light bounces wildly off the walls. I glance up to see her covering her mouth with one arm, shaking enough that the phone is no longer being aimed.

“Camila Marakov,” her voice turns light and teasing. “Are you jealous?”

“I didn’t say that!” But my argument is weak. I look away in shame. “But yes. I am. I mean … You’re the perfect woman for him. And you’ve been working for him since his previous wife died, so I just thought that …”

I can’t bear to finish the sentence.

Mila points the light directly in my face and I gasp at the brightness, shielding myself.

“Don’t be an idiot,” she says. “I never thought about him like that. Besides, Asher is too much of a professional. He doesn’t shit where he eats.” Moving the light from my eyes