“That’s an understatement.”
“He scares most people, but he doesn’t frighten you.”
I swallowed hard. “He should.”
“Why? He saved you.”
“Because men like him,” I paused, searching for the right words. “Men like him don’t save without expecting something back.”
“Not always.”
“Always,” I insisted.
Marta gave me a look full of too much wisdom. “Then you do not know Avgust yet.”
I looked down at my tea, at the ripples on the surface where my hands shook against the cup.
“I don’t want to know him,” I whispered.
“Why not?”
“He seems dangerous.”
“Well, attraction can be a complicated thing,” Marta nodded knowingly.
“I am not attracted to him,” I snapped too quickly.
She smiled. “Of course not.”
I sighed. “Stop smiling.”
She only smiled wider.
I knew I could avoid him all I wanted, but I couldn’t avoid the feelings that were beginning to take root in my heart.
Not for much longer.
Chapter 8 - Avgust
The delivery arrived earlier than I had expected, consisting of three crates, each of them taller than Ilana and markedFRAGILEin bold red lettering. I watched from the upstairs landing as the guards brought them in through the foyer, their boots echoing across the marble.
Ilana heard the noise before she saw anything.
She peeked over the balcony railing, hair loose around her shoulders, eyes bright with curiosity. Too bright. Too easy to read. Her excitement unfolded across her features in real time, beginning with confusion, then interest, and then a spark of something that hit me like warm breath against cold steel.
She looked alive again. She looked like herself.
The guards set the crates down and went to fetch tools while Ilana drifted downstairs as if drawn by instinct. She didn’t even notice me leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching every tiny shift of her expression like it had the power to rewrite gravity.
“What is happening?” she asked, finally noticing me. I hadn’t failed to realize she had been actively avoiding me for the past few days, so this was new.
“You’ll see.”
The guards returned with the tools and quickly got to work in front of us. One crate opened with a groan of nails and wood. Just as the wooden panels were pulled away, a burst of color spilled out. Ilana let out a quiet gasp, which was both soft and genuine. It sounded like someone was seeing sunlight after a long winter.
She stepped forward slowly, as if she were approaching something scared. “That’s… new.”
“Yes,” I said, pushing away from the wall. “I ordered them a few weeks ago.”
