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Chapter Thirteen: The Life of Mr. Ivanov

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"That'll be thirteen pounds,"

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"That'll be thirteen pounds,"

The red headed girl grinded widely at me as she handed me the money, her hair braided into two pigtails on either side of her head. "Thanks," she mumbled as she gathered up the many bags in her arms and followed her mother out of the store. I hummed a tone as I counted the money in the register, and as I did, my phone started blaring in my coat pocket.

"Hi," I smiled, and the voice of my best friend warmed over my heart as she said, "Hi, babes! What's up?"

I closed the register as I put the phone between my shoulder and ear, "Nothing much. Closing up at work, are we doing something later?"

"No," she sighed heavily, "I have to go home and have dinner with the moms, I'll tell you what, we can do something this weekend if you're open?" there was a hopeful tinge in her voice and I felt incredibly bad for turning her down.

"I'm going to be staying over at Kirill's, I'm sorry, babe,"

I imagined her shaking her head, "No worries," she said, and then her tone switched to teasing, "So, how's it going between you two?"

I huffed out a breath as I blushed and trudged to the back of the store, "Well. I haven't see him in a while though, he called me earlier on my break and apologised for it, but I haven't heard anything yet," I waved at my boss, who merely gave me a head nod before I made my way out of the store.

"Your break was like, six hours ago. He's probably busy with work?"

"Probably. I miss him, you know?"

Jade's voice was incredibly hopeful, "Then go see him! You said he told you he'd be working from home for the week, right?" I heaved out a sigh as I walked down the dark street. "Yeah," I mumbled, and my best friend giggled wickedly.

"Go see him. Wear something sexy,"

I rolled my eyes, "Bye, Jade,"

Shoving my phone back into my pocket, it was in there for a short ten seconds before I pulled it out again and pressed the speed dial. It rung for a while, yet he didn't answer. I frowned at the screen before I typed out a message to him, and changed routes.

I picked at the hem of my dress as I walked, trying to stop my head from coming up with any conclusions and assumptions for what Kirill could be doing. The most prevalent one was the idea of him with another woman. Someone older, more suited to him, mentally stable.

I cleared my throat as my heart squeezed with that thought.

Kirill's home was a fifteen minute walk from the art supply store. It was located in the upper, richer part of London. I regretted not dressing more appropriately for the weather, I simply wore sheer black tights and a black dress and matching boots today. I covered my arms and shoulders with a grey jean jacket, and I was positively going to be an icicle when I reached Kirill's home.

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