Page 59

I open the door.

She is standing beside the bed, one arm halfway out of her blouse, the other trapped awkwardly behind her back. Her hair has fallen across her face, and she looks furious with the garment.

I stop in the doorway.

She looks at me. “Before you say anything, I have successfully dressed myself for twenty-five years.”

“I wasn't going to say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I was thinking you should sit down before you fall.”

She looks at the bed. Then at me. “Fine. That’s annoyingly sensible.”

I cross the room and help her sit.

The blouse is caught around her injured shoulder, and she has clearly been trying to pull it off without moving her arm too much.

“Galina brought me some clothes,” she explains. “I thought I'd change before dinner, but apparently my shoulder has decided buttons are a personal attack.”

“Would you prefer I call her?”

Elle hesitates. Then she looks down at the blouse. “Could you just help me get this off? I don't think I can manage the sleeve without hurting myself.”

I look at her for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. It's a shirt, Nikolai, not a marriage proposal.”

I almost smile. “Very well.”

I kneel in front of her and begin undoing the remaining buttons. The first two are easy. The third catches.

Elle watches my hands. “Your fingers are very large for this particular task,” she observes.

“They are managing.”

“I'm sure they are excellent at other things.”

I look up.

She realizes what she has said. Her cheeks color. “I meant, you know, opening jars. Moving furniture. General large-finger activities.”

I hold her gaze for a moment. “Of course.”

She looks away. I finish the buttons. The blouse falls open slightly, revealing the white camisole beneath it and the delicate line of her collarbone.

I keep my attention on the injured shoulder. “Tell me if this hurts.”

She nods. I ease the fabric down her uninjured arm first, then carefully work it around the other shoulder. She inhales sharply when the sleeve catches.

I stop immediately. “Pain?”

“A little.”

“We can wait for Galina.”

“No, please. I just want the damn thing off.”