She took a quick shower to scrub the sweat off her body.Her stamina sucked, she was too goddamn skinny, and she’d gotten dizzy doing even the shortest workout on Charlie’s list.Keira had never spent much time worrying about diets and exercise—other than the activities Devlin dragged her along on when he got a wild idea—but it wasprobably time to start thinking about that.Right now, she was a liability.If there was a situation where she had to run or fight, she was dead in the water.
Not a victim.Not to myself and not to anyone else.
She didn’t know where to start with either—other than the Krav Maga gym she wasdeterminedto check out the day after the reception.Keira would make time, regardless of what else was going on.She had to.
She left her hair down but threw some product in it to accent its waves, and went classic with her makeup—smoky eyes and red, red lips.Then she stepped back and took in the full picture.
If we get through dinner without Dmitri fucking me on the table, it’s going to be a goddamn miracle.
Keira grinned.She picked up the hem of her dress so she didn’t trip over it and headed downstairs.Dmitri might need to change or shower or something, and she didn’t want him to see her before it was time for dinner.
She met Pavel at the door to the family dining room—smaller and more intimate than the massive formal dining room off the ballroom.He had to be capable and trustworthy, because Dmitri had put him on her detail, but his cherub cheeks made it hard to guess his age, and his body was a little too lanky, as if he hadn’t quite grown into his frame yet.He must be older than the eighteen she’d estimated his age to be.
His blue eyes went wide, and then he hastily averted them.“Mrs.Romanov, I’ve set up the food as you asked.”
Mrs.Romanov.Or, rather, O’Malley-Romanov.
It had a nice ring to it, though she’d never admit it aloud.She’d technically lost that bet, though she wasn’t surecoming against Dmitri’s mouth counted as losing in any sense of the word.
“Thanks.”She waited for him to step out of the way and strode into the room.The food was under covered plates, and there were two settings situated on either side of the small table.Good.Satisfied everything was as it should be, she walked to the window and glanced out onto the street before closing the thick gray curtains.There didn’t need to be any witnesses for what would happen next.
Since there was nothing else to do but wait, she poured herself a glass of sparkling water and took a cautious sip.Water with bubbles is fucking weird.She’d stick with ginger ale next time.Grape juice felt too juvenile, even if it was as close to wine as she was going to get.Sparkling water was supposed to be fancy shit, but it was just plain unnatural.
Glass in hand, Keira moved to the painting dominating the wall across from the door.It had to be five feet tall, and easily twice as wide, taking up the entire surface.Something that size should have overwhelmed the space and made it claustrophobic—especially with the curtains shut—but it felt like a window into another world.The scene was framed as if looking out a window and into a small courtyard garden.Rough brown stone contrasted with flowers hanging from window boxes, the blooms creating rainbow waterfalls designed to lead the eye to the main attraction—the woman sitting on the edge of the bathing pool with her back to the painter.Her long dark hair was pinned up on top of her head, leaving her neck and shoulders bare, and she was half-turned as if she’d heard someone calling her name and was caught in the midst of responding.
It was utterly captivating.
“You like what you see.”
She’d heard the door open, but wasn’t ready to abandon the painting yet.“Very much.”She could have stopped there, but with her heart too full and her mind still wrapped up with what the artist had accomplished, she kept going.“I wish I could do this kind of thing.”Keira waved her hand at the woman, the flowers, the stone.“It’s phenomenal.”
Dmitri stopped next to her, his shoulder brushing hers.“Tell me about your paintings.”
If he had asked her—demanded, really—in any other situation, she would have changed the subject, but Keira was helpless in the presence of the damn painting.“It’s been years since I’ve bothered.”
“Grief presents itself in strange ways.”Just that.No demands for an explanation.No trying to convince her that she’d made the wrong choice when she put down her brushes and never picked them back up again.
“It might have started that way, but it wasn’t what kept me from going back to it.”Why was she telling him this?She didn’t tellanyonethis.
Dmitri didn’t seem to move, but she felt his presence intensify all the same.“The alcohol and drugs.”
It wasn’t a question, but she answered.“There’s a cost that comes with being numb.”Finally, finally, she turned to face him.“I don’t feel numb anymore.”
His gaze never left her face.He had a guarded expression, but beneath that was something almost like hope.“Do you want supplies and a designed room to paint in?”
Yes.She tried to temper her response, but he saw it despite her not giving it voice.He nodded.“I’ll see it done.”
She exhaled slowly.“Thank you.”God, what is this?It’s almost a civil conversation.
“If there’s anything specific you need, give me a list, and I’ll send Pavel to retrieve it.”
At the mention of her babysitter, she laughed softly.“Poor Pavel.He’ll have a heart attack before the month is out if you keep him on my detail.He’s very…” When Dmitri raised his eyebrows, she rushed on.“He’s not exactly the picture of a hardened criminal who’s seen everything.”
“What makes you say that?”
Her cheeks heated, and the painting drew her gaze again.“I made him blush and stammer.”
Dmitri barked out a laugh.“Moya koroleva, have youseenyourself?I stood in the doorway for a full five minutes before I regained control of myself.Poor Pavel didn’t stand a chance.”
