Page 24 of Emerald Vices

“I said you’d have to stay under my roof for the time being. My roof, specifically.” He sweeps a hand around to encompass the room. “All your things have been brought here from the pool house. Including the stuff you left at Kat’s. You’ll find everything you need.”

He actually has the audacity to move towards the door, as though the conversation is over.

“Everything I need except peace of mind,” I blurt.

He pauses. Lingers. “I’m working towards that.”

An inexplicable tremor travels down my spine. It’s not what he says or how he says it—Andrey Kuznetsov is far too practiced at holding his emotions in to give anything away that cheaply. But if I look close, if I squint and tilt my head… I could swear I see genuine fear in his eyes. Just a glimpse of it. But enough.

“How serious is this situation?” I croak.

Andrey lets the silence sit for a moment. “I’m not going to let anything hurt you, lastochka,” he says at last, a fire in his eyes that feels like it could burn me if I get too close. “I failed Maria. I will not fail you.”

The lines of his face could be carved from stone. But as beautiful as he is, he also feels untouchable. He feels far away, removed from me by the weight of some unspoken responsibility he’s taken upon himself.

The chasm between us ripples and bends. There are moments when it feels insurmountable and moments when it feels like it’s shrinking and I could jump across, if only I was brave enough.

Right now, I’m caught in between, straddling a fine line between what I want and what I need.

“You really loved her, didn’t you?”

I don’t know why I ask. A part of me knows that hearing him confirm it will make me bitterly jealous. Another part of me is hopeful—if he’s loved one woman before, then maybe, just maybe, he could love another.

You shouldn’t want his love. His love is dangerous.

“She was mine to protect,” is all he says.

He takes a hesitant step towards me so that we’re practically nose to nose. Or chest to nose, as the case may be. One hand strokes my belly and the other curls around my chin, tilting my face up to meet his.

His whiskey breath warms my face. I could bask under the silver glow of his eyes forever. It helps clear out the white noise, the terrifying images in my head.

“I know you want to keep me safe,” I whisper. “I just don’t know that you can.”

His head dips down. For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. What will I do if he tries? Slap him? Pull back? Give in?

“My enemies don’t know what I’m capable of, lastochka. And neither do you.”

Then, just like that, he’s gone.

10

NATALIA

If hiring a new housekeeper-slash-chef was meant to make us all forget Yelena, Andrey should try again.

Pilav is the exact antithesis of Yelena—young, efficient, and professional to a fault. Still, it’s impossible not to see Yelena between the cracks.

Sure, his cooking is a heck of a lot better, but somehow, mouth-watering pierogies don’t quite make up for his sour face every time Misha or I walk into the kitchen to sneak something from the fridge.

In my defense, I’m pregnant. In Misha’s defense, he’s a growing boy with nothing to do all day.

At least Remi seems not to mind him. And for the moment, that’s good enough for me.

Misha and I are sitting in the garden with a fully-laden tray between us. It’s sunny and the glare off the water is particularly brutal, but it beats the heat we have to endure in the kitchen under Pilav’s sullen gaze.

“I can’t wait to start training,” Misha sighs, squinting towards the pool. “I’m so sick of lying in bed all the time.”

“You just got over a concussion,” I remind him. “Take it easy.”

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