Page 43 of Preferential Treatment

When she was done, he stood and rinsed beneath the scorching hot water.

“Alright, now prepare yourself.”

“For what?”

“This is how I like to finish a shower.” She tapped at the control panel, aggressively lowering the water temperature until Mikhail yelped like a kicked puppy. Molten lava turned to daggers of ice within seconds.

“You are insane,” he gasped, dodging from beneath the cold spray.

“No, come back!” She laughed, hugging herself and shivering as the water ran over her body.

“Not on pain of death.” Mikhail reached for a towel.

“You have to! If you don’t stand under the cold water for a bit, you’ll start sweating while you dry off, which defeats the whole purpose of taking a shower.”

“Sweating is good for the body.” This hot and cold shower reminded him vaguely of Russian banyas, though he’d never much attended them. A common cultural touchpoint, lost on him because impoverished orphans did not have access to such things. Any resentment he felt was old and stale, long forgotten. His only objection now was to the physical unpleasantness of the task.

“Not if it dries on your skin.”

“I would rather be covered in dry sweat than have my testicles retract entirely inside my body.”

She laughed again. She was beginning to shiver, teeth chattering as she smiled at him.

“Come on, Katya, get out. You’ll freeze.”

Her smile turned impish. “I’m not getting out until you come in.”

Muttering curses, Mikhail took a breath and stepped back under the freezing spray. She was right—he was sheened with sweat from the heat of the shower. And while the cold water was an unpleasant shock, it did rinse him clean and cool the hot flush beneath his skin.

“Can we get out now?” he pleaded, cupping his groin protectively.

“I suppose.” She let him turn off the water, then stood patiently while he toweled her off. Mikhail helped her pull her clothing back on.

“Give me another game of chess,” he said as he pulled up the zipper on her skirt.

“Alright.”

Back in the study, Mikhail pulled his pants on while Kate took a seat at the chessboard, setting their pieces back up—Mikhail as white, herself as black. He sat across from her, bare-chested, still damp from the shower. That medal glinted against his chest hair, calling her attention. She’d asked about it weeks ago, and he’d been terse, but the damn thing was getting harder and harder to ignore. He always wore it. Always.

Mikhail opened with his king’s knight, dragging her attention back to the game. Kate opened with her queen’s pawn, and they were off.

“How was Shanghai? And Tokyo?” Kate asked as he considered his next move.

“Better than usual.” He moved his bishop out to mid-board.

“How so?” That bishop had two potential paths, one threatening her knight, the other her rook. Kate’s eyes traced over the board, trying to figure out how to neutralize his bishop or, failing that, which piece she was most willing to sacrifice.

“I saw much more of Shanghai than I normally do. It’s usually just boardrooms and hotels and restaurants and smog. But I went into the markets to get your pictures.”

Kate’s gaze lifted to his briefly. He’d enjoyed his trip better because of her? “Oh.” She looked back down at the board, reaching for one of her pawns. “Well, I liked the pictures. I’ll probably never get to see Shanghai in person.”

“I’ll take you.”

Her fingers froze on the pawn. She looked up at him again. “What?”

“I’ll take you to Shanghai.”

“What?”

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