“Careful,” I whisper.
His voice is low. “That was my line.”
The song ends.
I don’t realize it at first. My hand is still on his shoulder. His hand is still at my waist. For a second, we stand there as the room begins to clap politely around us.
I become aware of the room again all at once.
People are watching. Really watching.
A woman near the front hides a smile behind her champagne glass. Two men exchange a look. Galina’s face is stone. Dmitri looks like he wants to break something. And Katya looks at me as if she’s seeing me for the first time.
The satisfaction that moves through me is small, but bright.
Yaromir releases me slowly. Too slowly.
I step back first because if I don’t, the room will see more than I want it to.
“You did that on purpose,” I say.
“Yes.”
“At least lie sometimes.”
“No.”
I shake my head, but my mouth threatens to smile.
A waiter passes with champagne. I take a glass mostly to give my hands something to do. Yaromir’s attention shifts across theroom, alert again, scanning faces and exits and enemies I don’t know how to name yet.
His hand touches my back once. “Stay close.”
I should resent it.
I do.
But less than I did before.
“I see Irina,” I say, spotting a familiar pale dress near the side corridor.
Yaromir follows my gaze. “The women from lunch?”
“Yes.”
His expression cools. “Do you want me with you?”
The question makes something in my chest tighten.
“No,” I say. “I can speak to my friends.”
He looks at me for a moment, as if deciding whether to argue. Then he inclines his head. “I’ll be near the west column.”
“I’m not a child.”
“No,” he says. “You are my wife in a room full of people looking for weak points.”
Before I can decide what to do with that, he turns away to speak to Viktor, who has appeared near his side like a shadow.
