Page 174

I sit beside them. “You won’t win this one.”

Alexei slips the yellow car back into Misha’s hand. “You said you wanted it when you sleep.”

Then he opens the book. The bear is looking for honey and has already ignored three sensible warnings. Misha corrects Alexei’s voice in the first paragraph, yawns through the second, and falls asleep against his arm before the bear reaches the forest.

Oksana carries the blanket while Alexei walks Misha to his room. Misha’s yellow car remains trapped in one hand, and the paper crown slides onto the pillow when Alexei lowers him.

Oksana settles on the narrow bed beside his and draws the half-glass door almost closed. Through the glass, I can still see the small rise of his body beneath the blanket.

I check the locked suite door again.

When I return, the sitting room is empty. No voices come from the corridor, and for the first time all night, the silence settles around me. I don’t fight it.

I open the courtyard door.

Colored bulbs glow low along the walls, their light caught in the wet leaves and curved sides of the glazed pots. Young trees stand inside square stone beds, and beneath the covered corner, a cushioned chair faces the low sofa. Oksana has left a basket of folded blankets beside it.

Alexei picks up Leonid’s folder from the side table and follows me outside. I stop near the sofa and look back at him. His clean shirt is open at the collar, and he still holds one side of his body carefully when he walks.

His gaze drops to the marks around my wrists. He reaches for me slowly, giving me time to move away, and closes his fingers around one wrist when I stay.

“You should be resting,” I say.

“So should you.”

“I like it here.”

“I know.”

I slide my hand up his chest and stop near the open collar of his shirt. “My room is empty.”

He studies my face, making sure I mean it. I hold his gaze, rise onto my toes, and kiss him.

Alexei meets me halfway. One hand settles around my waist while my fingers curl into his shirt. The kiss is warm and unhurried, and when I pull back, I keep hold of him.

“Come with me.”

He stops before either of us forgets the dressing beneath his shirt. “Vera.”

“I know where Misha is.” I touch his jaw. “I know who you are, and I know what I’m choosing.”

I take his hand and lead him back through the sitting room.

Inside my bedroom, Alexei opens the bedside drawer and places Leonid’s folder beneath the secure phone. He closes the drawer completely before turning toward me.

I wait beside the bed.

Then I reach for the first button of his shirt.

“Come here.”

He comes.

The button opens beneath my fingers, then the next, and the next. I take my time because I want to, because tonight isn't the library table or the office door at midnight. I push the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall, and my hands move over the familiar territory of his chest like they're retracing a route they've already memorized. The bruises have faded to a faint yellow that barely shows beneath the ink, and the dressing on his abdomen sits flat and clean.

"You're healing," I say, pressing my thumb beside the surgical tape.

"I've had a competent doctor threatening me at every turn."