Page 93 of Little Blue

Men are worse than hens, clucking gossip.

Ilya doesn’t pay Misha any mind as he asks low, “Are you telling me you were ever happy there?”

“No.” I answer honestly. “I haven’t been happy since my mom died.”

The car is quiet for a long moment. Ilya’s hand covers mine in my lap, and my stolen heart squeezes in my chest.

This—this is why I’ve fallen for him. His little touches and tender comforts.

He's so hard, so scared and dark, but he’s so willing and ready to be soft for me when I need him to be. Of course, he’s hard at times, too. But that hardness is coming to excite me more and more.

I’m just as depraved as him.

Flipping my hand, I link my fingers with his. I know it surprises him. I swear, I can hear his breath catch.

I hope I never stop surprising him. I hope that every time I kiss him, he’s just a little shocked. That every time I touch him, his breath snags and his eyes flare. Just like now.

The driver pulls the car up to a grand building, and I exit the car with Ilya’s big hand holding mine tightly. Countless people dot the sidewalk, even though the night is cold. Women are in beautiful gowns covered, like mine, by heavy dress jackets. Men are polished, like Ilya.

“Where are we going?”

“To the ballet.”

“I’ve never been.” I can’t keep the excitement from my voice. I also can’t hide the fact I’m nervous. After being cooped up in Ilya’s home, the amount of people here feels overwhelming. “There are so many people.”

“Yes,” Ilya agrees, his eyes sweeping the land.

“Are you okay?” I ask. He’s tense.

“Of course.” He offers me a smile, but it’s forced. I’m instantly brought back to when I first met him in the casino. He’d been tense then, too.

“Do you not like people?”

He does another quick sweep of our surroundings before he tips his gaze to me. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem on edge.”

“I have you.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m a dangerous man. I’ve made many enemies and have, until now, remained unbound by weaknesses. You, Little Blue, are a weakness I can’t afford to lose.”

My breath catches as fear snakes my spine. “I don’t understand.”

I think I understand what he’s saying just fine. But I hope I’m wrong.

His voice lowers to a dark, ominous pitch. “I don’t think I would survive losing you.”

The swell of warmth I feel inside at his words cuts another string from my already fallen heart.

“Are you saying someone might try to hurt me—to hurt you?”

He doesn’t have to reply for me to understand the fear that shines for a moment in his eyes, before he shutters it. Tugging me into his side, he presses a kiss to my forehead. “Come, my heart.”

Thirty-Nine

Irelynn

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