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“I can’t think about the future or children.”
“I thought the same.” He kisses me on the lips. “Until you fired me up and made me see. We have to live, Lia. We have to choose to live.”
“What are you saying?”
He hesitates. I imagine him blurting,I love you. What would I say? Would that make me want to run even more? Or would it make us feel even closer?
“I’m asking you a question…”
I gesture at the painting. “She doesn’t have a face. She could be anybody. Me. Mila. Ania. Anyone.”
I don’t know why I mention Mila and Ania. Maybe because, as sad as it is, they’re the only women I know.
“Not Ania,” he mutters.
“What do you mean?” I lower my voice, though we’re alone. “Is she… ill or something?”
“No, but she’s too fragile. Too vulnerable.”
“She’s only eighteen. Give her time.”
I don’t know why I’m defending her with so much passion. I guess I feel closer to her after last night, as if I’ve got to take care of her or something.
“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “She’s always been so… fragile.”
“I was just making a point, anyway,” I tell him.
“So when you were painting it, you weren’t thinking about yourself?”
“Do youwantme to have been thinking about myself?”
He clenches his jaw, and I know that’s not the follow-up he wanted or expected. After a long pause, he says, “Have lunch with me before I head back to the city.”
“You’re not home for the night now?”
“I wish. I need to prep the function hall. The Sokolovs and the Petrovs in one place, with all our men… It could be fireworks. We need air-tight security.”
“What about me? What do I do?”
He tucks my hair behind my ear, giving me a warm, intimate feeling. “I’ll tell you when the time is right, Lia.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I mutter.
He drops his hand, walking to the tall library balcony window with his hands behind his back. He looks so powerful with his broad, strong back, his jacket tugging from shoulder to shoulder as if he could explode into action any second. “You said you trust me.”
I walk up next to him, grab his arm, and look into his eyes so he has to acknowledge I’m here andseeme. I wonder if that’s why I feel so intoxicated when I’m with him. It’s as though I’ve been waiting all my life to exist, and now he’s here, with a snap of his fingers and that intense gaze, making me feel so real.
“Don’tyoutrustme?”
“It’s not about that,” he says. “I promise I’ll explain, but I need you to be ready.”
“I am ready for anything.” I let him see how serious I am. “I want to help and be a part of this. I can’t just sit here and let you do all the work.”
He leans down and kisses me again, pulling me closer against him. It’s so difficult not to melt into his body, feel how hard he gets for me, feel his solid muscles and the rock-hard outline of his lust.
“Lunch?” I say, breaking off the kiss.
He smirks. “Worried we’ll get carried away?”
