Page 23 of Beautiful Ruin

The silence stretches around us. It’s not uncomfortable, exactly, just heavy, broken only by the occasional pop of the fire and the faint tick of an old clock on the mantel. The woman glances toward the windows once, then back to me, clearly trying to decide whether I am safe to talk to or dangerous.

I can’t say I blame her. In this house, those two things probably look exactly the same.

She clears her throat eventually. “I’m Alina, by the way.”

“Sofia.”

Her brows lift slightly. “Ah. Are you… a guest of Ivan’s?”

The careful phrasing makes me narrow my eyes. Something about the way she says guest feels… off. “Something like that. Why?”

“I, um, only meant do you live here, or are you…” Pink climbs up her cheeks. She gestures vaguely toward the door. “Involved with Kuznetsov?”

For one stunned second, I just stare at her.

Then I laugh.

It bursts out of me loudly, the sound echoing off the high ceiling, startling even me. I haven’t laughed since the plane touched down in Moscow. Maybe since before the men walked into the cafe and tore my life down the middle. For a moment, it feels almost obscene, and once it starts I can’t stop.

“Oh, God, no.” I press a hand to my mouth, my shoulders still shaking slightly. “Ivan is my uncle.”

Embarrassment floods Alina’s face. She covers her mouth with one hand, eyes wide with horror. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to assume… shit, I always do that. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I wave my hand, wiping at the corners of my eyes. “Honestly. That’s the funniest thing anyone’s said to me in weeks.”

In this fortress of secrets, the absurdity of someone assuming I might be involved with Ivan is so violently ridiculous, it punches straight through the tension that’s been holding me hostage for weeks. For one blessed second, I am not the hidden niece of a man who rules Moscow in the shadows and has kept me away since my mother died. I’m just some woman laughing with another.

Alina exhales with a short laugh of her own. A small, sheepish smile curves her mouth up. “Well, glad I could lighten the mood by being an idiot.”

I lean forward slightly, a teasing edge creeping into my voice. “Does this mean you’re with the guy who just arrived? Nikolai Malyshko or whatever?”

Alina’s chokes out a small noise. “God, no. We’re friends, that’s all.”

I hum, not entirely convinced but gracious enough not to say so.

“Friends,” I repeat.

Her smile turns wry. “I’m with someone else he and Kuznetsov know.”

“Do you normally come around here?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No, not really. I’m accompanying Nikolai… sort of. It’s complicated.”

“My uncle seemed on edge when he was mentioned.”

She hums softly. “That happens a lot. He’s less terrifying once you understand him.”

I study her more carefully now. There is grace in how she holds herself, a quiet poise that makes me think she’s sort of like me—has learned how to survive in uncomfortable situations by giving those around her nothing to notice to be later used against her. She acts nothing like the women I knew in Italy. There is no careless, languid confidence born from never having to wonder whether the people surrounding her might turn into wolves without warning.

Which means she isn’t just a guest, then. She belongs to this world in a similar way that I do, or at least she has been pulled in enough to understand it adjacently. I’ve found that those near men like my uncle, and maybe those like Nikolai Malyshko too, learn quickly that there is safety in being careful.

“That word seems popular in our circles,” I say.

Alina tilts her head, studying me in return. “Have you been here long? I don’t remember anyone mentioning Kuznetsov has a niece.”

I suppose I can’t blame her for being curious. If I understood anything since returning to Moscow, it’s that my existence has been treated less like lovingly being sent away to further my education elsewhere and more like classified information kept tight to the chest.

I lean back into my chair. “I went to boarding school since I was a little girl in Switzerland then immediately moved to a university in Italy. So… it’s been a while since I’ve been back here.”