“He’s not living in a Jane Austen novel,” he said, a little peevishly. “I see no reason why he can’t do his job without the stick up his ass.”
Something flashed in Nadia’s eyes, and she put the coffeepot down with a little more force than necessary. “That’s how ninety percent of the people he interacts with want him to behave. You think he should change just because you’d like it better?”
Call him crazy, but Nate had the feeling Nadia was angry with him. And not just because he’d grumbled about the butler. No doubt she had cause, but one of the things he’d always liked about her was her ability to refrain from critiquing his behavior like just about everyone else in his life did. Life under the microscope, with the whole world pointing out and then reveling in his every misstep, was a pain in the ass.
“I’m sorry I’m not perfect,” he said, his voice sharper than he intended as he grabbed for the coffeepot. “I just get tired of people acting like assholes. Crane actually bowed to me when he met me at the door, for God’s sake.”
Nadia leaned back into the sofa’s cushions and crossed her arms over her chest, looking mulish. “He’s doing his job,” she gritted out as if he hadn’t heard her the first time. “Not everyone can do whatever the hell they want whenever the hell they want to, like you can. You were assassinated, I spent fifteen hours in the security station, Bishop is running for his life, and the most important thing you can think of to talk about is how annoying you find my butler? Really, Nate?”
Nadia’s words hit home, and the surge of anger faded.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, stirring some sugar into the cup of coffee he’d asked for but didn’t really want. It was easier to fuss with the coffee than to look at Nadia and see the reproach in her eyes. “I guess picking at Crane is easier than facing all the other crap that’s bouncing around in my head.” He took a sip of his coffee, then wrinkled his nose at the taste. He’d put in the same amount of sugar as he usually would, but it tasted too sweet. He’d noticed the same thing at breakfast, though he’d assumed he’d absently put in too much sugar. Maybe there was a subtle difference between his taste buds and those of his original.
Mentally, he rolled his eyes at himself. There was no point in obsessing about this. He put the cup down and risked a glance at Nadia. To his relief, her expression had softened.
“I’m sorry, too,” she said, though as far as he was concerned, she had nothing to apologize for. “I know you must be worried sick about Bishop.”
His fists clenched again as he fought off an image of Kurt in Mosely’s clutches. Then he smiled a bit as he fully absorbed what she’d said. “You don’t think Kurt did it.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Of course he didn’t do it!” she said indignantly. “You don’t for a moment think—”
“No, no,” he hastened to interrupt. “I’d never in a million years believe that of Kurt. I just thought that with the so-called evidence against him, you might have doubts. You never liked him.”
Nadia dismissed that with a wave. “I don’t have to like him to know he’s not guilty. I’ve seen the two of you together when no one else is looking. He loves you.”
Was there a hint of wistfulness in Nadia’s voice? Nate had never asked her how she felt about their future marriage. Maybe because he was afraid he wouldn’t like the answer. She had never batted an eye when he’d revealed his secret to her, never shown any sign that she hoped to “convert” him, but that didn’t mean she was happy with the prospect of being with a man who would never be faithful to her, even once they were married. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to consummate their marriage, and any heir he produced might well be conceived with the help of a turkey baster. Fidelity would never be an option. It was all so achingly unfair, to everyone involved. Which was why he tried not to think about it too much.
“Tell me what happened on the night I got killed,” he said. “According to the media, you and I ducked out of the party because we were hormone-crazed teenagers wanting some privacy. I know that’s not what really happened.”
“Not exactly,” Nadia confirmed grimly. And then she told him what she knew.
CHAPTER FIVE
Nadia hated every moment of lying to Nate. She desperately wanted to tell him everything that had happened to her since the night of the reception. Especially everything that had happened when Mosely questioned her. If she could tell Nate what Mosely wanted her to do, then together they could devise some way to work around it, some way to make it seem like she was cooperating with Mosely while not actually risking Bishop’s safety. Several times during her retelling of the night’s terrible events, she almost blurted out the truth.
But the real truth was, she couldn’t tell Nate about Mosely. She knew Nate too well, and there was no sign that his Replica was any different. The minute she told him how Mosely had treated her, Nate would go on the warpath. He would confront Mosely, and there was no way that could end well for Nadia. Mosely would take revenge on her for talking. Of that she had no doubt, even if Nate might think he could protect her. And so she didn’t dare tell the truth, no matter how much she wanted to.
Nate looked appropriately abashed when Nadia told him just what he’d been up to on the night of the reception, how he’d set them both up for the hell they—and Bishop—were in now. He stared down at his hands, and even winced now and again, though she tried not to be too accusatory. No matter how angry she was with him.
“I was an asshole to you,” he said when she was finished. Maybe he hoped she’d contradict him, but she didn’t. He squirmed. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged, which wasn’t quite an acceptance of his apology, but it was the best she could do. She was glad he was at least able to acknowledge that he’d done wrong. With Nate, sometimes that was half the battle. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if the original Nate would have apologized, or if that was just something his Replica did, but she shoved the thought away. She had seen no sign that he wasn’t identical to the original in all ways.
“I’m going to make things right,” he said with a decisive nod. “I don’t know how, yet, but I’m going to do it.”
Nadia had no doubt he would try. She also had no doubt that given a little prompting, he’d be happy to talk about the steps he was going to take to make things right, which would no doubt begin with finding Bishop. And if he told her anything, she was going to have to relay the information to Mosely. Sure, she could try lying and pretending she knew nothing, but with Mosely’s reputation as a human lie detector, she didn’t dare. The only way to avoid telling Mosely anything was to make sure she didn’t have anything to tell.
And so, instead of prompting Nate to tell her what he was going to do, instead of the two of them teaming up, putting their heads together, and trying to figure out how to help Bishop and find the real killer, Nadia faked a shiver and closed her eyes with a little groan. Nate put his hand on her shoulder in sympathy.
“Poor thing,” he murmured, pulling the quilt up from where it had pooled around her waist and tucking it around her shoulders. “If the bastards hadn’t kept you for questioning all day yesterday, you’d probably be all better by now.”
Thanks to the medical treatment Nadia had received upon arriving home last night, she was feeling a lot better. But if exaggerating her illness would get Nate to leave without telling her anything Mosely would be interested in, then she wasn’t above doing it.
“I feel like I could sleep for a week straight,” she said, and that was pretty close to the truth. She offered him a tenuous smile. “I was going to pump myself full of coffee to stay awake, but now I think maybe it would be better to take a nap.”