Page 24

"For her, thank you." Dimitri takes his napkin and snaps it out as the waiter sets the plates in front of us. I stare down at the perfectly plated food that makes my mouth water. It's breaded veal in some sort of gravy with mashed potatoes and seasoned vegetables. My stomach growls, and as mad as I am, I won't turn away this meal. I'm starving.

But it doesn’t mean I have to engage in this or fall for his trick.

When the waiter leaves, I pick up my silverware and dig in. The first bite melts on my tongue, so I have another, and another, until I’m halfway done and realizing we're not talking. He's eating slowly, carefully taking small bites and chewing thoroughly. Meanwhile, I'm devouring it because it's so delicious.

"What?" I ask when I notice him staring at me.

"You're cute," he says with a half-grin curling one side of his face up.

"Shut up," I grumble, but I grin too. It's like we're best friends or something. I don’t even mind when he picks on me.

"So, restoring old buildings, huh?" I can’t believe he remembers my saying that. We were barely acquaintances when he walked me through the Christmas market that night. I don't even know why I told him that. But it makes me smile now.

"Yes, hero boy. I wanted to restore them." I shrug and stab a piece of veal, thinking for a second about it. "I kind of still do. I just don’t know how or where." The dream feels distant right now with what's going on.

"St. Petersburg has a lot of them." When his head drops and his hand stills on his fork, I watch him. "I dreamed of leaving Moscow someday." His head shakes and his eyes rise to meet mine. "Not everyone is meant to stay put, you know? Sometimes, a baby bird grows up and flies away. I always thought that was me."

"But you're too busy rectifying wrongs and playing hero," I joke, pointing my fork at him with a sliver of meat on it. I don’t mean it to be abrasive, but a dark expression washes over his face before vanishing. I feel bad and I fall quiet again, finishing my food and my glass of wine.

When he refills it, I set my silverware on the plate and fold the napkin over it. I didn't mean to remind him of something that's negative. We were having a decent time until I said that.

"I'm sorry, Dimitri." I lick my lips then sip some wine nervously.

"What if we could both have that life, Alana?" He sounds hopeful, maybe a little dreamy, and when he looks in my eyes, I see the real question.

He's not asking if I think I can live my dream. He's asking if I can live my dream with him. He really likes me. It's written all over his face.

"Dimitri—"

"I mean it. What if one day, we could throw everything away and rush off into a future we could only dream of?" Sighing, he drops his napkin on his plate though it's only half-empty. "I'm sick of being under someone's thumb. It's not my father or Alexei that bothers me. It's the life. I crave something different somewhere else. What if we could have that?"

Again, I notice that he's asking if "we" can have it, and my heart flips. Do I want that life—restoring buildings, free from the overshadowing tension that follows me everywhere because of the family I was born into? Yes. Absolutely. Do I want it with him? That's the question. He’s a Sokolov. I'm a Volskaya. It's not compatible.

Do I want it with someone someday? Yes.

Do I want it now? Maybe.

But Dimitri?

"Say something." His eyes are locked on mine, and I feel so pressured. So far, he's been charming and helpful. He's comforted me, protected me, encouraged me, supported me—basically everything I've wanted someone to do for me since the moment I was attacked. But falling into those arms feels scary.

"I want a life of freedom too," I mutter, but it's all I can manage, and he seems to understand my conflict. I can't say I want it with him. I'm not impulsive. If that were to happen, it would negate everything we're doing. Marrying our two families together after what went down feels wrong.

"Dessert?" he says, changing the subject, and I breathe a sigh of relief. When I walked in here, I wanted to walk right back out. Now I want to stay and see where the night takes us.

"Yes, please." I smile and brush some hair out of my eyes.

God help me, I'm falling for this man when I shouldn't be. But how can I not? He's basically everything I ever wanted, just wrapped in a package I shouldn’t touch. I don't know if I should throw caution to the wind and let myself fall or if I should run away now. But running back to a family that insists on hurting me more doesn't feel right, either.

I'm just going to enjoy this moment and let fate decide my future. So far, fate seems to be in control, anyway.

Dessert comes and we laugh together sharing stories of childhood in Moscow and winters. When Dimitri walks me outside, it's snowing lightly and with last week's foot of powder still on the ground, it's too tempting. He balls up a handful of snow and throws it at me playfully. I return the gesture, packing a large snowball and tossing it at him. It hits him square in the back and he turns on me, but the playful look is gone.

There's alarm there—eyes wide, anger in the set of his brow.

"We have to go," he snarls, taking my hand. "Now."

"Dimitri, what's going on?" I protest for a second, but with how intensely he shifted from one mode to the next, I'm not foolish. I let him pull me down the sidewalk and around the corner and when we're out of sight, he pins me to the wall, panting. His breath fogs around me as he calms.