“Sofia?" Roman's gaze drops from mine to the photo in my hand.
I moisten my lips, at a loss for what to say.
“What are you doing?"
“I found a picture of you."
He closes the distance between us in five long strides. Plucking it from my shaking fingers, he gives the photograph a cursory glance. My heart pounds under my breast, the sound echoing in my ears.
“Where?" he asks in something that resembles a growl.
I cringe and consider lying but decide there isn't a point because he'll figure out the truth in a matter of moments if he hasn't already. “In your desk, stuck to the bottom of a drawer."
He doesn't ask why I was rummaging through his belongings at one in the morning. We're way past that now.
Through stiff lips, I force out a question of my own. “You were a cop?"
Squarin
