Romanov threw firewood into the fireplace and slowly returned to Alice, simultaneously getting rid of his jacket. Angrily, he pulled off his tie like it was a tight noose and tossed the piece of clothing onto the carpet. Having already collapsed on the sofa, he unbuttoned two buttons of his shirt. Yes, this is romance.

- What happened to you? – he asked in a gentle voice and reached for a glass.

“Nothing,” she answered, accompanying the lie with a sip of the bitter drink. Your killer missed.

Romanov froze, then a contemptuous icy smile touched his thin lips. He calmly sipped the whiskey and shook the glass, watching the...