— Your pregnant mistress called. She sent her regards, — Irina said calmly, without turning from the stove. Something ordinary was sizzling in the pan, as familiar as their years together.
“Your pregnant mistress called. She sends her regards,” Irina said without looking up from the stove. Andrey froze in the kitchen doorway. Twenty years—a whole life—flashed before his eyes. The keys slipped from his hand. “What are you talking about? What mistress?” His voice trembled. “Alisa. Your assistant, isn’t she?” Irina finally turned. “Young, twenty-five. … Read more