Page 52 of Savage Truce

As we reach the table, he hands me a large white dinner plate. I load some of everything, and when I get to the pigs in blankets, I only take two even though I’m salivating to have more.

Rodian’s plate is brimming, and when we take our seats, I notice an ice bucket with a chilled bottle of wine surrounded by sodas.

Spotting a Coke, I help myself to one, but before I can open it, Rodian takes it from me and smirks as he says, “I still don’t want you chipping your nails.”

God.

My heart melts, and just like the first time he said that to me, I swoon.

He pours the fizzy drink into a glass for me, then picks up a pastry and sinks his teeth into it.

I forgot how hot it is when he chews.

I’m so busy staring at him that I forget to eat until he taps his finger against my plate. “Eat, moya krasavitsa.”

Doing as I’m told, I savor the pigs in blankets before enjoying the pastries.

God, I missed these so much. Pure heaven.

Just as I move on to the salmon, Rodian transfers some of his pigs in blankets and pastries to my plate, making it look like an everyday thing that couples do.

My heart clenches again as I’m reminded of how fast I fell for him. He was so observant and made me feel special.

“What else do you want to make once you’re done with the dress?” he asks.

I glance at the amazing view of Moscow as I think for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe more clothes. It’s not like I have any costumes to design or repair.”

“Why? You can still design.”

I let out a very unladylike snort. “What would I do with costumes?”

“Show them to the theaters here. Maybe one will be interested, and you can design for them.” His expression is dead serious. “As long as work doesn’t monopolize your time, I don’t see why you can’t return to the theater.”

Gaping at him like a fish out of water, I’m too stunned to react.

Rodian reaches across the table and grips my hand. “I want you to do everything that brought you joy, Anastasia. You have a talent to design masterpieces, and it would be a crime not to share it with the world.”

I was so very wrong to judge Rodian because he killed the men at the factory.

My God, I have my very own Erik from The Phantom of the Opera.

Yes, he’s dangerous and the villain, but beneath all that power and ruthlessness is the man who once made me happy, and for the first time, I realize that part of him is still very much alive.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asks, his tone worried. “Don’t feel pressured. I just mentioned it because I remember you said you loved your work.”

“You didn’t say anything wrong.” My voice is hoarse from all the emotions he’s making me feel as I admit, “I just realized you haven’t changed.”

A frown forms on his forehead. “I don’t follow.”

“What I liked most about you was how attentive you were the night we met. You made me feel special in a way no other person ever has.” Needing to ease the dryness in my mouth, I take a sip of Coke before I continue, “After all this time, you’re still the same.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, and looking relieved, he says, “You deserve to feel special every second of every day.”

The way he looks at me as if I’m all that matters makes my heartbeat speed up and a kaleidoscope of butterflies takes flight in my stomach.

Clearing my throat again, I eat while glancing at the buildings and lights of the city I never got to see before tonight.

“Do you like living in Moscow?” I ask out of pure interest.