Moya printessa.
As she reaches the ground floor, it’s the thought of dead bodies and blocked firewalls that prevent me from appearing affected. In front of Vanessa, who’s now watching me, I feign a look of friendship and nothing more, which happens to be the cruellest torment as disappointment flashes through the eyes I dream about.
“You look nice.” Nice seems safe, something brotherly and appropriate. The tapping against my leg ceases—an action I didn’t realize, for once, I was doing.
“Thanks.”
I open the door, and Vanessa murmurs something to her. As Serafina heads out, the span of her naked back does its hardest to stop my beating heart. She’s all smooth skin I’ve spent days caressing, skin I know to be sensitive when licked, shining beautifully when on her hands and knees.
“Keep her safe,” is Vanessa’s parting comment.
After ushering Serafina inside the vehicle, I take my own seat, biting my tongue until we’re well away from the mansion and far from Vanessa.
“You’re gorgeous.” If only I was better with words, I’d have more to compliment her with. Something worthier.
“I had help picking the dress, so I can’t take all the credit.”
“It’s all you, Fina. You above all, but the dress—youinit—will be the ultimate test of self-control. If I get through tonight without killing anyone, we’ve succeeded.” Because peoplewilllook, and there has never been anything or anyone I’ve wanted to protect from others’ gazes more than her.
She beams; only Serafina would see my death threats as a compliment. “With your sister nearby, you’re still only playing my chaperone?”
“Unfortunately.” My hands clutch the steering wheel tighter. She deserves someone who can show her affection in public, not something forbidden. “Nonetheless, I’m happy we’re doing this.”
Serafina falls silent for the remainder of the drive, staring out the window as we enter the busier parts of Moscow. Being evening, streetlights are aglow, and the city comes alive in new ways. Once at the concert hall, I drive around the back to the staff lot and take the spot beside Anastasia’s car, gesturing for Serafina to remain seated.
I may not understand dating well, but Serafina is aprintessa, and by fucking god, she will be treated as such. Which is why I open her door and offer my hand to help her out, not stepping aside when she’s on her feet.
Instead, I back her into the car and tell her with my mouth what I truly think about her in this godforsaken dress. I’d never believed in religion until this moment, but she’s become my deity.
“I changed my mind,” she whispers against my mouth. “Let’s go home.”
“You’re too pretty to not show off.” My hand trails her spine, pausing where the dress meets the curve of her ass. It’s there my finger taps once, twice, then once again, the significance clear to us both. “Every single time I’ve lost restraint, it’s been around you or for you. Let’s see how I get through tonight.”
She arches into me, nails hooking into my suit’s collar. “You look really good. Handsome.”
The tight-ass collar strangles me. “There’s only one woman I’d dress up for.”You own me in ways you don’t even realize.
Before she can say more and send me into whatever tailspin of panic my brain deems necessary, I tug her towards the back door and rap my knuckles. A stagehand placed there by Ana to wait for us ushers us inside.
“Mr. Petrov, come in. I’ll inform Miss Petrov you and your guest have arrived.” He rushes down the hallway lined with crates, lighting equipment, and clothing racks. It’s messy and chaotic, and the sight makes me wince.
A few seconds later, Anastasia pokes her head out of her dressing room down the hallway and makes an excited noise. She steps into the hall, wearing a silky black robe that falls to mid-thigh because she never gets completely ready until minutes before her show. She pulls Serafina into a hug, forcing me to reluctantly release the only thing keeping me grounded.
“You look absolutely beautiful, Sera. Doesn’t she look good, Lev?” My sister finds me close behind and winks, sending a chill through me. She suspects, but neither of us will say a word about my relationship until the other does—so never.
“As I’ve already told Miss Mancini, yes, she looks nice.”
Anastasia scoffs, throwing her arm around Serafina. “Nice. Whatever. Men, right?” Serafina’s responding giggle eases the growing chaos in my brain. Just being inside this building makes everything hurt more; I’m aware of what’s to come, but I focus on her. The sound of her voice, the look of her in that dress.
My sister directs Serafina down the hall and starts pointing things out. I trail behind, focusing on counting our steps, inhaling peach and vanilla and tapping my thigh.
Serafina glances over her shoulder and gives me a blinding smile.
All of this is worth seeing her do that.
42
SERAFINA
