I swallow another bite and breathe through the stupid urge to cry into a pecan tart. “Okay,” I say. “For now.”
“For now,” he echoes, and lets it sit.
We sit in comfortable silence. People come in red-cheeked and cold, smiles quickly forming in the warm atmosphere. A baby in a puffy snow suit and matching hat gurgles so loudly the entire café turns and grins like idiots. My hand goes to my stomach without asking permission. Alex notices and looks away like it’s a private prayer.
“Thank you for not… stepping in,” I say after a minute.
“With Raquel?” His mouth twitches. “I had a speech ready.”
I laugh. “I’m sure you did.”
“You made the right call,” he adds. “Listening isn’t agreeing.”
“Exactly.” I take another bite, chewing slowly. “She says she’s with Ivan now. Says he’s better.”
“Hm,” he says, which is not agreement nor disbelief. More a placeholder for a file likely to be opened later.
“She acted… human,” I say. “At least for a second.”
“Everybody does when they think they might lose,” he says. There’s a history in his tone I don’t pry open.
I angle the tart plate his way. “Want a bite?”
“I’ll stick to coffee.”
Outside, a snow flurry starts and gives up, just a handful of glitter shaken out of the sky. The man in the dark coat reappears across the street, checks his phone, then turns the corner. It could be nothing. It could be everything.
“Ready to go?” Alex asks when my plate is empty and my tea is gone.
“Yeah.” I stand and gather my scarf. “Let’s take the back street.”
He nods, already changing our route in his head. He texts Orlov. We step out into the cold together, the city’s noise greeting us with horns, voices, a bus sighing at a stop. I press my fingers to the red ribbon on my wrist.
We head south, past window displays that look like dreams. Alex walks like a moving wall. I match his pace and let the day’s wins be just that—new kitchen tools that will make a home out of a fortress and an unexpected truce with Raquel.
At the corner, I glance back. No dark sedan. No man in a black coat hanging out too long in a doorway. Just the bite of winter, the two of us, and the hope of getting to tomorrow.
CHAPTER 31
CASSANDRA
The dining room of Aster & Ash, the amazing restaurant in the Gramercy we’re eating at tonight, is gorgeous. Brassy light, white linen, a skyline turned to glitter by snow. Somewhere behind a column, a string trio plays a melody I half recognize.
Orlov walks us to the hostess stand, then peels off with a quiet, “I’ll be outside.”
Our table is a corner two-seater high top with tea light candles and silk napkins.
“This place is so nice, it’s almost scary,” I say as Damien pulls out my chair.
“Then you’ll have to be very brave,” he says, deadpan, aside from the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
A waiter approaches with two glasses and a bottle of champagne. Damien lifts a hand. “No alcohol tonight. Two mocktails,” he says. “Something bright for her, bitter for me.”
The waiter lights up and looks at me. “Clementine Star for you. Clementine, ginger, mint, fizz. And for you,” he looks at Damien, “Black Tie—grapefruit, tonic, black tea, rosemary.”
Damien turns to me. “You good with that?”
“As long as mine comes with a tiny umbrella.”
