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I shake my head, lips pressed together, afraid of what I might say. Afraid of all the things I know I need to say. Vasily reaches across the table and takes my hand.

Chapter 38

Vasily

The dinner should feel like a celebration. Instead, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re standing on the edge of something.

Matty has been quiet since her confession. Not in an uncomfortable way, but I can tell something is weighing on her. I know that look.

We made it through the appetizer, salad, and main course, and now we’re both sipping drinks and pretending to admire the view. Her hand catches my attention; the way it hesitates at the glass of white wine poured earlier, shifts instead to her still water.

I take a drink and study her across the table, trying to decide how much longer I can stand the uncertainty. I’ve spent my entire life anticipating threats, reading men before they make their moves. But Matty is different. She can sit across from me with those blue eyes fixed on mine and make me feel like I don’t know anything at all.

I can’t wait anymore.

“I want you to stay.”

Her hand freezes, wrapped around the glass. I force myself to continue.

“Not because you have to. And not because I have more work for you. I want you to stay because I want you here.”

“Vasily…”

My name on her lips is soft, heartbreaking, and all of a sudden it feels like too much. I fight the urge to stand and pace, disrupting the privacy of the restaurant, and instead I take a deep breath and focus.

“If you can’t stay,” I offer, hoping that the softening in her eyes isn’t rejection or her thinking I’m utterly ridiculous, “then keep seeing me. Come back when you can. I’ll come to New York. Whatever this looks like, I want it.”

Matilda stares at me as though I’ve just spoken another language.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

A breath escapes her. “I thought…” she trails off.

“What?”

“I didn’t think you’d want that.”

I almost laugh. I’ve wanted it since the moment she walked into that hotel room.

“Matty, I don’t know how to make this sound less terrifying.” That earns the smallest smile, and now I lean across the table. “I don’t want you to leave.”

There.

The words are out.

My chest feels lighter and heavier at the same time. She reaches out and squeezes my hand.

And I know we’re almost there.

Whatever she’s been keeping from me, she’s finally going to tell me. A storm moves across those blue eyes as a few curls escape her updo.

I just hope I’m ready to hear whatever it is she’s been hiding.

She hesitates.

I watch the battle cross her face. The lawyer calculating, the woman feeling, both of them apparently at war with each other. So I make the decision for her, pushing this far enough to let her know that I don’t care what is holding her back.