Page 36 of Casting Butterflies

“Neither do you.”

He shrugged. “Because I’m not. I’m heading home shortly on the ferry.”

“We’re also taking the boat.”

“Sightseeing in Rotterdam or heading farther?”

“Russia, actually. You?”

“Romania for business but I’d rather be going to Russia,” he said with a deep laugh, flashing white teeth that contrasted with his swarthy complexion.

“You’ve visited before?”

“Oh yes. Quite often actually. I love Saint Petersburg. Which city are you planning to hit?”

“I’m not sure. Misha hasn’t said.”

“Your husband is surprising you, how delightful. Have a good trip.” Off went the stranger, and a moment later, Misha returned.

“Let’s go.” He might sound brusque, but the fingers wrapped around mine as he led me through the crowded bar spoke differently.

We headed for the hotel and quickly freshened up before loading our things—and Cedric—into the car.

The embarkation process for the ferry went smoothly, and we soon were in our cramped cabin—and suddenly, I felt like an awkward schoolgirl going on her first date.

Despite our flirtation at the bar, Misha didn’t pounce me. He immediately left on the pretext of checking out the boat.

I sat on the narrow bottom bunk and sighed.

“Now why are you moping?” Cedric asked.

“Do you think Misha likes me?”

“Does it matter if he does?”

I bit my lower lip. “I really had fun with him today.”

“And?”

“And I think he wants to have sex with me.”

Cedric recoiled. “Whoa. Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want to make sure I’m not making a mistake.”

“I don’t think I’m the right person to talk about this.”

“Who else am I supposed to ask? Charlie’s not here, and it’s not as if I can call her.”

The cat paced on the floor. “Sleeping with Misha would complicate things.”

“How?”

“Have you forgotten your suspicion of him?”

“No.”

“Or the fact he’s likely keeping secrets?”