Hidden Truths (Perfectly Imperfect #3)

“Mimi will get you before you even reach the door.” He nods toward the living room where the dog is sleeping on the floor next to the sofa.

I feign innocence. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything.”

“Yeah, right.” He puts the plate away, turns toward me, and leans on the counter. “Why don’t you just tell Sergei what he needs to know, so he’ll let you go?”

“I have my reasons.” I resume eating. “How’s his friend? The one who got shot.”

“He’ll be okay,” Felix says and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “How do you know about Mikhail?”

“Sergei told me last night. Someone called him to say he wasn’t doing well. Sergei got upset.”

“Upset?”

“Yeah. He kind of zoned out. It was strange.” I shrug and reach for the salad. Felix approaches, grabs my chair, and turns it toward him.

“Zoned out… how?” He leans over me, and I stare at him. Gone is the grumpy but funny old guy from a few seconds ago, and in his place stands a very serious and visibly alarmed man.

“I don’t know. He just sat there really still. His eyes seemed strange—like he was looking at me without really seeing me,” I say. “His hand started shaking.”

Felix closes his eyes and curses. “And then?”

“I approached him, but it seemed like he didn’t register me, so I poked him, and that got his attention.”

Felix’s eyes snap open. “You . . . poked him?”

“Yeah. With my finger. Like this.” I touch his shoulder lightly. “It seemed to help. He snapped out of it after a few minutes, called me a little fox, and left.”

“And that’s it?”

“Yeah, pretty much so. Why?”

Felix doesn’t say anything, only watches me for a few seconds. Then, he pulls out the chair next to him, sits down, and leans toward me. He still doesn’t speak. Did I do something I shouldn’t?

“Is something . . . wrong with Sergei?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says finally. “He sometimes processes things differently. And his views on what should be a logical response to a certain situation differ from yours or mine.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “How so?”

“Let’s say you’re waiting in a line to get a coffee, and a man behind you tries to take your wallet. What would you do?”

“I don’t know. Whack him on the head with my bag? Call the police?”

“Sergei would snap his neck, get back in the line, and order a cappuccino when his turn comes.”

I blink. “He… he doesn’t seem like a violent person.”

“Sergei is not naturally violent. He would never attack anyone under normal circumstances. He would never touch a child. Or a woman, unless she’s a threat. If an old woman is crossing a street, he’ll approach to help her. If a cat gets stuck in a tree, he’ll climb it and rescue the cat.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Unless provoked, his behavior is completely aligned with what’s deemed socially acceptable.”

“And when he is provoked?”

“When Sergei is provoked, people die, Angelina. Which is why, if you find him zoned out again, as you put it, you should stay back.”

I stare at him, finding it hard to believe the person he’s describing is the man who so tenderly brushed my cheek demanding to know who hurt me. “But he didn’t do anything to me. He just… we just talked, and he returned to normal.”