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I nod. I also don’t overlook the fact that he’s still touching me, first by pressing a hand to my back as we enter the side lobby of the hotel, then by taking my hand in his to lead me wherever we’re going. I’m doing my damned hardest not to read into any of it.
He leads us to a part of the hotel I haven’t seen yet. Greenery peeks through windows lining the arched ceiling and the doors are gilded with vines etched into the panels. Demyen tugs on one of the handles and ushers me through.
It’s… a greenhouse?
It is. It’s a lavish greenhouse, complete with cooing tropical birds and waterfalls that trickle over rocks into a stream that crosses through the room under stone pathways. At first, I can’t believe that these are all living, growing plants—it looks so surreal. But one touch of aMimosa peducaand the sight of it curling away from my fingers confirms that these are, in fact, real.
Real and exotic. My personal heaven.
“Where is this place?” I ask Demyen. I sound breathless. Ifeelbreathless.
“It’s the center between the casino and hotel. We call it The Oasis.” Demyen casually paces along a parallel path until the foliage veils us from each other. “It’s open to guests to come and unwind, relax. But hardly anyone ever comes here.”
“Too drunk to appreciate it.”
He chuckles. “Probably.”
I sigh wistfully at the sight of a blooming cattleya orchid. “I would have practically lived here as a kid.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” I’m grateful for the thin veil of leaves and branches between us. This way, he can’t see how suddenly self-conscious I’ve become. “I was already a loner at school. Kept my nose in the books and tried to avoid the bullies as much as possible. But when the trial happened…”
Demyen remains silent. I take that as a cue to keep talking. Why not? He might as well learn more about me before he suddenly decides I’m not worth all the effort.
“You’d think I’d be hailed as some hero for taking the stand. Or at least congratulated for surviving a kidnapping attempt.” I sigh and flick a pebble inside one of the planters. “Not those kids. Their parents worked for the Zakrevsky empire andhatedme for the things I said against Tolya. They blamed me for tearing the family apart.”
The silence is much heavier now. I realize what I’ve said too late. I clear my throat and try to lighten the mood when we meet each other at the junction of the paths.
“And that’s how I became a plant nerd,” I say with a flourish of my hands to the foliage around us. “Lonely, ostracized kid with time on her hands. Uncle Mike—Michael Little—bought me one of thoseDiscoveryEncyclopediabooks about exotic flowers and I spent all my time memorizing the names.”
Demyen’s studying me. I’m not sure if I like the intensity of his gaze. But then he tilts his head to one side with a subtle smirk on his lips. “All of them?”
“Well, don’t give me a pop quiz.” I laugh, just so I don’t feel like a butterfly pinned to the board by his stare. “But I remember my personal favorites.”
“Tell me.”
I scrunch my nose. “Bleeding hearts were top of the list.Lamprocapnos spectabilis.I also love the color of autumn crocus,Colchicum autumnale.Wolf’s bane was a surprising one?—”
“Why?”
I blush and roll my eyes at my younger self. “Because I thought they were only in fairy tales. You know, to fend off werewolves.”
Demyen chuckles and shakes his head. “You would.”
“So would you!” My childhood self stomps my adult foot on the stone path. “It’s not like it grows in the local garden center.”
“Fair enough.”
We stroll down another path in silence, either enjoying the serenity of the greenhouse or avoiding awkward conversation. Probably both.
“So, did you continue your studies, Miss Botanist?”
I want to smile and blush. But the truth pulls a shadow over my face.
He notices. “Let me guess: Martin.”
“He didn’t think it was worth pursuing,” I explain in an ashamed murmur. “Called it ‘a waste of time.’ Wouldn’t even let me grow a small garden in the windowsill.”
