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Marina glanced between us and frowned.
“I trust you’re treating your guest with kindness, moya lyubov’,” she said, her tone firm.
My love? My Russian was rusty, but I recognized the pet name Dasha used to call me when I was younger.
She must definitely be his girlfriend, and for some reason, that bothered me.
“I assure you, Marina, that I always treat my guests with the utmost respect,” Volk finally spoke, his tone cool.
Marina gave me a warm smile. She then reached out and clasped my hand, leading me to the long dinner table and sitting me down on a plush chair beside Volk.
I sank deeper into its soft cushion, admiring the vintage silver cutlery set on the table, gleaming in the dim light. Everything in this room must be worth a fortune.
Marina sat across from me and started with some basic questions, then drifted into small talk about the Russian weather. I listened with a distant ear as I reached for the knife, intending to admire it more closely.
Suddenly, Volk’s hand gently closed around my wrist, halting my movement.
His partially unbuttoned white shirt caught my attention as his gaze met mine.
“Put it down.”
I clutched the knife, my pulse pounding as I tried to make sense of his sudden demand. I must’ve looked completely lost, just staring at him in confusion.
The room was so quiet you could hear our breathing.
Volk’s face was set in a serious expression, but I noticed a flash of concern in his eyes. It hit me—he was worried I might hurt myself with that knife.
“I’m not gonna hurt myself. I’m not here to give you what you want,” I shot back just as his thumb lightly grazed my wrist.
Overwhelmed, I couldn’t help but lower the knife.
“Good girl,” he whispered.
Heat spread across my cheeks.
Marina cleared her throat, and that snapped Volk’s hand away, breaking the spell he had me under. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” I said, forcing a smile and avoiding Volk’s eyes. “Just a little tired, I guess.”
Marina gave me a knowing look but didn’t push it any further. “Have you ever had pelmeni?”
I frowned. “Pelmeni?”
Marina nodded, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Yes. It’s a Russian dish, and I happen to have made some tonight. I think you’ll love it.”
Despite my unease, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of curiosity. I was starving, so anything would do at this point.
I smiled. “Sure, I’ll give it a try.”
Marina’s radiant smile provided a welcome distraction from the palpable tension in the room. As she served us the piping hot pelmeni, my gaze shifted nervously between Volk and her.
To my surprise, Volk’s eyes seemed fixated on her, wearing an expression I hadn’t seen before.
Suddenly self-aware, I averted my gaze and focused on the meal before me, taking modest bites and trying to ignore the awkward silence.
Throughout it all, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. But for now, I pushed those thoughts aside and savored the delicious meal Marina had prepared.
“Mmm, this is amazing, Marina,” I whispered, my eyes glued to my plate, my hair hiding my face.
