Chapter 2

The service door clicked shut behind her, and the corridor fell into a silence so complete that Julian could hear his own heart pounding in his ears. The string quartet had moved on to another piece, something bright and trivial, oblivious to the fact that his entire life had just cracked open in the space between one breath and the next.

Nadia was still standing where Sasha had left her, one hand pressed flat against the wall as if to steady herself. Her china-blue eyes were wide, her lips parted, her perfect composure shattered into a thousand pieces. She looked from the empty corridor to Julian's face and back again, as if she expected the scene to resolve itself into something she could understand.

"Julian," she said, and there was a new note in her voice now—something cautious, almost delicate. "Julian, what was that? Why did you say her name?"

He could feel the weight of the banquet employee's stare on the back of his neck. The kid had gone very still, his notepad clutched to his chest like a shield.

"I asked you a question," Nadia said, sharper now. The champagne was still in her system, fighting with the shock, making her unsteady. "Why did you call her Sasha? How do you know her name?"

Julian swallowed. His mouth was dry, his tongue thick in his throat. The words felt like they were made of glass, sharp and dangerous. "She—" He stopped. Started again. "I knew her."

"You knew her." Nadia repeated the words flatly, as if testing them for holes. "You knew the cleaner. You knew her name. And you didn't think to mention this to me? You just let me—" She gestured down at her dress, the memory of the whole incident flooding back in. "You let me make a scene with some woman you know?"

"It was a long time ago."

"How long?"

He did not answer. He could still see Sasha's face, the calm that had been so practiced, so armor-plated. He had seen that calm before. He had seen her wear it like a shield the day she walked out of his apartment with a single suitcase and a promise never to call him again.

"Julian." Nadia's voice was a knife now. "How long?"

"Six years."