The dining area is just off the kitchen, a vast, light-filled room. The space is expansive, with tall windows lining one wall, letting in a gentle evening glow. The table, a long dark mahogany piece, sits at the center, surrounded by high-backed chairs, and beyond it, the room opens up into another living area—plush sofas, a low coffee table, and a fireplace flickering softly in the distance.
Before I know it, my hands are moving automatically. I tell myself it's just dinner. Just a meal to say sorry. Nothing more. Definitely nothing personal.
Natalya helps out, casually talking about place settings and how Ilay can't stand it when the forks aren't aligned perfectly. I fumble a bit with the wine glasses, nearly dropping one, but I manage to hold it together.
And then... footsteps I recognize sound towards this direction. I swallow hard and turn just in time to see him standing in the doorway, his blue eyes scanning the room before landing on us. Or more precisely... on me.
He smiles.
Natalya, in what I’ve come to believe is her usual elegant manner, approaches him and gives him a kiss on the cheek. "Welcome back, brother." Then, with a mischievous spark in her eye that I'm starting to recognize, she glances at me and adds, "Your little girlfriend just whipped up an apology meal for you. Chicken pot pie. And possibly some humble pie on the side."
I almost sputter in surprise. "I'm not his—" I begin, but Ilay raises an eyebrow, the smirk on his face widening as he casually unbuttons his coat. He looks at Natalya, then at the pie cooling on the counter. "Please tell me you had no hand in the actual preparation of this food."
Natalya gasps dramatically, placing a hand over her chest in mock offense. "Wow. You wound me, brother. I just assisted with the presentation. I did not try to poison you this time. Though if I was actually trying to kill you, I'd send her and…"
Ilay finishes for her without missing a beat. "You would have succeeded."
She grins. "Exactly. But since I believe she is not planning to murder you tonight, you're perfectly safe." She pauses, eyeing him with obvious amusement. "You, on the other hand, are a suspicious character."
I interrupt quickly before this can spiral further. "You know what? Let's just calm down. Okay? I set the table. This is what I cooked. So just sit down and eat." Ilay's gaze shifts back to me. His eyes soften just slightly, losing some of that dangerous edge.
"An apology meal?" he asks, striding toward the table, his gaze never leaving my face. "Now that definitely has my attention." I can already feel the heat rising in my cheeks, spreading down my neck.
I step forward, stopping just beside him. My heart is pounding hard enough that I'm sure he can hear it, but I lift my chin anyway and meet his eyes. "Sorry for punching you in the face," I say, keeping my tone as even as possible. "But next time, don't test me."
His face twitches like he's trying not to laugh outright. I don't give him the chance to respond. I slide into my seat and nod firmly toward the one across from me. "Sit and eat, and no fighting your sister."
He stares at me for a second longer, amusement passing across his features, then slowly pulls out a chair. "No promises," he says, still smiling as he sits down across from me. Natalya claps her hands together with obvious delight. "Well, this isabsolutely delightful. I'm staying for dinner." And just like that, the awkward silence ends.
• • •
Dinner starts off quietly. I focus on my plate, cutting into the pie with more concentration than the task actually requires. Ilay sits across from me, eating without comment, though I can feel his eyes on me every few seconds when he thinks I'm not paying attention.
Natalya, however, is having none of it. She leans back in her chair, wine glass held loosely in one hand, and studies us both with barely concealed amusement dancing in her eyes.
"So," she says casually, swirling her wine. "Iris. How long have you been working with my brother?"
I glance up from my plate. "A couple weeks now."
"And in those couple weeks, has he been... behaving himself?"
I shoot her a look. "Define behaving."
She laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "That bad, huh?"
Ilay finally speaks up. "I've been perfectly professional."
Natalya snorts into her wine glass. "Professional? Brother, you haven't looked at a woman like this in years. Maybe ever, actually."
My cheeks warm instantly. I keep my eyes firmly on my plate. "I mean it," Natalya continues, leaning forward conspiratorially like she's sharing state secrets. "You should see him when you're not around. All he talks about is you. 'Iris said this, Iris did that, Iris is brilliant, Iris is infuriating.' Honestly, I thought it was just a fleeting obsession at first, something thatwould pass, but..." She pauses, glancing at Ilay with a knowing smile. "This man is completely smitten."
"Natalya," Ilay warns, his voice dropping low and dangerous.
She ignores him completely. "And look at him now. Can't even keep his eyes off you for five consecutive seconds. Even the most mundane thing, like you eating pie, is apparently absolutely fascinating to watch."
I look up despite myself, and sure enough, Ilay is staring at me, his eyes are fixed on me with an intensity that you would think I had afuck mesign on my head.
"See?" Natalya says triumphantly, gesturing at him with her wine glass. "Told you."
