His eyes cut to mine and he looks genuinely perplexed. “What’s wrong with ‘Rockstar’?”
“Oh myGod.” I actually laugh, the sound surprising both of us. It’s the first time I’ve laughed in... what, weeks? Definitely before Alexei’s death. The sound feels foreign and wrong, but also desperately needed. “You’re serious right now” You actuallylike‘Rockstar?’”
“It’s a good song,” he insists, but there’s something lighter, almost playful in his voice. “Not everyone can be a music snob.”
“I’m not a snob. I just have taste.” I turn slightly in my seat to face him better. “Next you’re going to tell me you have Creed on here too.”
“What’s wrong withCreed?” He says it so genuinely defensive, that I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.
“What’swrongwith Creed? Where do I even start?” I’m fully smiling now, and his eyes catch on my mouth, darken slightly before flicking back to my eyes. “Let me guess— ‘With Arms Wide Open’ is your shower song.”
His entire ears aredefinitelyred now. “I don’t sing in the shower.”
I hear what he doesn’t say. “But youdohave it on your playlist,” I respond, my lips twitching with suppressed laughter.
The silence that follows is answer enough, and I actually giggle. It sounds girlish and I should be embarrassed but I’m too busy watching Dimitri’s reaction.
Because he’s smiling. Actuallysmiling. Gone is his usual hard, controlled expression and there’s something genuine and warm that transforms his entire face.
He has a dimple right there on his left cheek. It’s visible when he smiles like this. How did I never notice that before? It softens every harsh angle and makes him look younger, almost boyish.
And his eyes—those gray eyes that I’ve only ever seen cold or angry or shuttered—they’re lighter now. Warmer, like storm clouds parting to let through sunlight. There are tiny crinkles at the corners that suggest he doesn’t smile often, but when he does, it’s genuine and beautiful.
My heart does something stupid. It flutters and skips, a traitorous little flip that makes warmth spread through me.
He’s so good looking like this. Not just handsome in the abstract way I’ve acknowledged before, butaffecting. The kind of attractive that makes my breath catch and makes me want to reach out and trace that dimple with my fingertip. It makes me forget every reason I should keep my distance.
“You’re staring,” he says quietly, and there’s a roughness to it that’s not anger.
I am staring. I can’t seem to stop. “You smiled.”
“I smile.”
“Not like that.” The words slip out before I can stop them. “Not a real smile.”
Something shifts in his expression. The smile fades slightly, but his eyes stay warm, searching my face like he’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking. What I’m feeling. “You make fun of my music and suddenly I’m smiling ‘real’?”
I shrug nonchalantly, trying to will my rapidly beating heart to chill out. “Apparently your terrible taste in music is your weakness.” Am I—am I seriouslyflirtingwith Dimitri? I’m actually flirting with him, and I don’t know how to stop or even if I want to stop. “Who knew the great Dimitri Volkov could be undone by Nickelback mockery?”
“Undone?” His voice drops lower, and the sound makes my stomach flip and heat pool low in my core. “That’s a strong word.”
When did the car get so warm? “Well, you’re blushing.” Is it possible for me to open a window surreptitiously to get some air?
“I’m not blushing.” But his ears are still red, and when I raise an eyebrow at him, he actually looks away, which is somehow even more endearing. Dimitri Volkov, flustered. Who would have thought?
“Sure you’re not.” I shouldn’t keep teasing him and basking in this warmth between us. But I can’t help myself. “Should I check the rest of your playlist? See what other embarrassing?—”
“Absolutely not.” He snatches his phone away before I can reach for it, and our hands brush just barely, just for a second, but electricity shoots up my arm at the contact.
His eyes meet mine, and the playfulness shifts. The air between us feels thick suddenly, heavy with awareness and unspoken things.
What am Idoing?Pull back, Vera. Create distance. This is your captor husband for fuck’s sake!
I ignore my thoughts. Instead, I hear myself ask, “What else are you hiding in there? Imagine Dragons? Nickelback’s deep cuts?”
His lips twitch again, and that damned dimple appears. “You’re really enjoying this.”
“Maybe a little.” My heart is racing now, a blush spreading across my cheeks. “It’s nice seeing you as a person instead of…”
