"I’m pregnant," she said flatly. "And poor."
Ivan glanced at the omelette, then at her stomach, visibly rearranging his priorities. "Right. Well. This is excellent, then. Rustic. Honest food."
Maeve smiled as she set a cake box on the counter. "I brought chocolate caramel cake from the cafe." Her eyes slid to Artem. "I saw you looking at it."
Artem looked up so fast it would have been funny if his expression had not been so naked. "You did."
She shrugged, pretending it was nothing. "It's hard to forget the noise you made as you inhaled the smell."
“I did not make a noise.”
Maeve closed her eyes and moaned as she inhaled.
“I didn’t moan,” Artem grumbled.
He did.
Ivan nearly choked. "Oh, this is my favorite conversation already."
Maeve chuckled as she slid a knife through the cake, cutting Artem the first slice. He took it carefully, like it was precious.
The room was too small and too intimate for comfort. Artem sat on the bed, cake forgotten every few seconds because he kept looking at Maeve instead. Ivan decided the floor was too hard and was now balanced on the sofa’s least murderous edge. I remained at the door with my plate in one hand and my back to the wall watching her.
Maeve leaned against the counter and watched us like she was in a fairytale and just realized she’d accidentally let three wolves into her house and now regretted it.
Too late.
Fergus abandoned Artem’s lap and came to sit by my feet.
I looked down. He looked up.
This, at least, was correct.
Without thinking, I broke off a piece of omelette and held it low. Fergus took it with great care, as if we had known each other for years and not half an hour. Maeve saw. Her brows lifted.
"He likes you," she said.
"He has poor judgment," Ivan said.
Fergus bared tiny teeth at him.
"No," I said. "That was sound judgment."
Maeve laughed. A real one. Quick and surprised. It changed the room.
Ivan finished his omelette and reached for a slice of cake. He pointed his fork at Artem. "This is the best thing I’ve eaten in months."
"You had dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant three nights ago," Artem said.
"That was business. This is real.” Ivan set his fork on the plate. “We need somewhere to stay the night. It’s getting late.”
Something in her face softened before she caught it. "You can stay one night," she said. "On the floor."
"Done," Artem said immediately.
Ivan stared at him. "You didn’t even pretend to negotiate."
"One night," Maeve repeated.
