“I did not mean to scare you,” he whispered.
I gasped when he pulled something from his pocket. He held it out to me, and when he realized I was not going to take it, he came closer and got down on one knee in front of me, taking my hand and placing the waterlily in it.
I sprayed him in the eye with the hairspray and then chucked the glass jar at his head.
He did not even attempt to dodge the glass. It smacked him in the head and then crashed to the floor, the pieces glistening like diamonds around him.
“Wait!” he pleaded, holding his hands out before I could open the door. He kept trying to open his eyes, but they must have been stuck and burning. “I love you!”
This stopped me with my hand on the doorknob. “What?” I breathed out.
“I—I do.”
“I shot at you,” I said.
He grinned. “I really liked that.” The room went dim when a pause in the fireworks show went silent, and it seemed as if his disposition did the same. “I did not like when you left. I could not find you.” His eyes were swelling, and he was furling and unfurling his fists.
“You do not even know me,” I barely got out. “You want to kill my husband.”
He shrugged. “I will not kill him if you love me in return.”
“This is not how love works,” I said, shocked at myself. For some reason, I felt bad for him. He looked almost…pleading,when he did not have a murderous look on his face. “Love only works when two people feel it.”
“Lev tells me this,” he said. “I still feel the way I do.”
“This is, ah, very nice, but I am married. I am in love. He loves me in return. This is how it works.”
“He is called theCasanovaPrince. He enjoys the company of women.” He made sure to enunciatewomen. Plural.
“Before,” I said, my voice breathy. My sister and her comments kept coming back to haunt me. “We are together now.”
He laughed, but the joke was on me. “I do not see this when I spy on his place.” He took a step toward me, and I had nowhere to run but outside of my door. He held his hands up in the universal gesture forI surrender. His bright blue eyes were red and swollen, and not only was he dripping water, but his eyes were also leaking tears.
For some reason, this endeared him to me even further.Somewhat.
“Go to bed with me,” he whispered. “Allow me to wine and dine you.”
“This usually happens in reverse.” I made a twirly motion with my pointer finger. I pulled it down immediately when his eyes went crossed.
He shrugged. “It is up to you how you would like to do this thing between us.”
“There is nothing between us.”
“You do not know this for sure.”
I sighed, and he seemed to take a deep breath in. “Women know these things,” I said. “Trust me, I am a woman and know.”
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he whispered.
“I shot at you,” I reminded him. At first, the comment had just slipped out, but this time, I was reminding him of the truth—he wanted my husband dead, and in no uncertain terms, that meant he wanted me dead too. “I would do it again.”
He grinned. “You have said this before.” He seemed to be ignoring the fact that I said I would do it again. He called me something in Russian.
“What does that mean?” I asked and almost bit my tongue for doing so.
He winked at me. “You will have to find out.”
A second before the door was opened, he ran toward the balcony and disappeared. I ran behind him, the click of my heels against the marble lost in the fireworks that started again. I reached the balcony just as a splash of water shot up from the canal.
