Page 43 of Violent Pawn

In a tone chillier than the outdoors and eyes just as frosty, she glares down at my half-empty glass. “For you or me?” A frown immediately replaces the twist of her lips as she scans the others. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.”

With a wink, I shove off the wall and head down to the kitchen, which has been cleared out for the evening. Gabriella has insisted on cooking Christmas dinner tomorrow, claiming she’ll do it the “right” way for her first year hosting what she’s already deemed an annual event.

The quiet and hesitant taps of Anastasia’s steps come up behind me. I never asked her to follow, but she did. Agreeing to be alone with me, essentially.

I tug open the door to my liquor cupboard, gesturing. “Pick your poison.” My poison, on the other hand, is still on the counter behind us. So while she scans numerous glass bottles, most of which are more empty than full, I refill my glass. Tonight and tomorrow will be trying.

“You carry more alcohol than a store. You realize how unhealthy this shit is, right?”

As unhealthy as guilt can be.

“I’ve felt your version of healthy for myself.” Partly for my own amusement, partly to see if she’ll squirm, my eyes caress the curves I’ve been missing. “Gotta say, I approve. Besides, you can’t fully judge without seeing my body.”

I swear the tips of her ears darken, but she shakes her head too fast, hair covering them. Still, victory lightens the darkness in my heart when she—unwillingly—studies my arms, then my stomach.

“Don’t be gross.”

“Factual. There’s a difference. Pick.” I gesture to the cupboard again. “Your show is finished for the year, and it’s the holidays. Besides, I’ve seen you at a club. You drink even if you pretend not to for your health.”

“Drinking a couple at the club is different. I plan for it, put in extra work, adjust my diet.”

“It’s one drink, Petrov. I’m not asking you to chug everything in there.”

Scowling, she reaches up for the bottle of Patrón and hands it over. As I pour her drink, she moves to the island and props her elbows onto the surface, chin on her hands. Hair falls over her shoulder, baring the place on her neck I once nipped, the cheek I’ve kissed.

My Christmas wish is to do it all again.

I slide the glass over to her before tapping my own against it. “Cheers, Ana.”

“Anastasia. For a moment, you were getting me to like you, but then I remembered what an ass you are.”

“Only to the people I like.”

Anastasia’s lips part with a response, but motion in the doorway has us both straightening, the moment shattering when Serafina pops her head in. “There you are! Madre lost her mind when she realized you guys were gone. C’mon, she’s determined to stuff us all with cookies.”

When we’re alone again, I grin at Anastasia and push off the counter, offering her my hand. “Let’s get real sugar into your diet.”

She spends the afternoon chatting with Serafina and Lev and devouring cookies, continually returning for more when she thinks no one’s paying attention.

Two people are, however.

Gabriella, who monitors every bite someone takes, every sip of a drink, every smile. She’s cataloguing Christmas goodness as her own personal measure of success. Zeno will probably hear the detailed breakdown later on, complete with spreadsheets and presented through a speech, if I know her.

And myself. Because I can’t stop watching Anastasia, no matter who else I distract myself with. I find myself repositioning to keep her in view.

How else would I capture the slight smiles she tosses my way every so often?

23

ANASTASIA

While Serafina’s off taking pictures with her mother, I claim her spot beside Lev on the couch, who’s gripping a glass of spiked hot chocolate so tight his knuckles are as white as the snow on the ground back home.

“You okay?”

He inhales and exhales deeply, sliding his hand—flattened and not tapping—over his knee. “This isn’t bad, but Gabriella continues to watch me, and it’s unnerving.” He peeks across the room where our host is with Serafina, Zeno, and Vanessa. She glances our way, making his shoulders tense almost up to his ears.

“You can’t be so socially inept you don’t know why.”