Page 99 of 10 Days to Surrender

“Sem, vosem, devyat,” Sasha murmurs in my ear, his breath warm against my neck as he teaches me to count cards in Russian. His hand rests on my belly. “Good. Now, show me how to bet fifty.”

I fumble through the words, mangling the pronunciation so badly that Feliks nearly chokes on his contraband pasta.

“Your accent is terrible,” Sasha tells me fondly, kissing my temple. “Try again.”

Gina throws a penne at his head. “Stop helping her cheat!”

“It’s not cheating,” I protest. “It’s… expanding my cultural horizons.”

“‘Cultural horizons,’my ass,” Pavel grumbles as I sweep another pot my way. “That’s the third hand in a row she’s won.”

Lora pats his arm consolingly. “Don’t worry, babe. You can have some of my pasta; I’m not even hungry.”

My gaze drifts around the candlelit table, taking in all these little love stories unfolding. Feliks can’t seem to go more than thirty seconds without finding some excuse to touch Gina—plucking imaginary lint from her shirt, tucking her newly-magenta hair behind her ear, or just letting his fingers trail across her shoulders as he pretends to peek at her cards. She pretends not to notice, but her secret smiles give her away.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to play that hand,” Pavel insists, reaching for Lora’s cards.

She swats his hand away. “Well, maybe if you weren’t such a control freak about everything?—”

“I am not a control freak!”

“You alphabetized my shoes last week!”

“They look better that way!”

Their bickering dissolves into laughter and kisses, and I have to look away to hide my grin. Who would have thought my ditzy former coworker would end up perfectly matched with Sasha’s most uptight lieutenant?

Even Mama seems to be caught up in the romance of the evening. Marco showed up at our door an hour ago, drenched from the storm and bearing bottles of his best wine. Now, he’s teaching her Italian cooking terms, standing close enough that their arms rub with every gesture. I’ve never seen her blush so much.

The weight of someone’s stare draws my attention. I turn to find Sasha watching me. His eyes are dark in the candlelight, filled with an intensity that makes my skin prickle with awareness. Hedoesn’t look away when I catch him—if anything, his gaze grows heavier, more deliberate.

Heat blooms in my chest and spreads lower. It should be illegal, the way he can undress me with a look even in a room full of people.

Even after everything we’ve been through.

Even with my belly swollen with his twins and my ankles puffy and my back aching.

I lift my cards higher to hide my flushed cheeks. He just winks.

Eventually, I get too tired to keep my eyes open. The excitement of the unexpected arrival has gotten to me. I mumble goodnight to everyone, then start the trek to my bedroom. But I pause at the top of the stairs, one hand braced against the wall. The villa’s wooden beams creak and settle around us, no longer strange and foreign but familiar. A silly question bubbles up in my head.

When did this place start feeling like home?

Sasha’s hand finds the small of my back, steadying me. “Tired?”

“A little.” I lean into his touch without thinking. Another habit I’ve developed here—reaching for him, trusting him to be there. “It’s been a night.”

“Couldn’t agree more. Gina threatened to feed my testicles to wild boars if I ever hurt you again.”

I perk up with a bright smile. “Didn’t you miss her? I sure did.”

We should move. Go to bed. Maintain those careful boundaries we’ve drawn. But I’m rooted to this spot, caught in the strange magic of the storm-dark hall and the sound of our family’s voicesfiltering in from all sides as they find their way to their bedrooms for the night.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, you know,” I whisper, more to myself than him. “I wasn’t supposed to…”

His fingers tilt my chin up. In the shadows, his eyes are impossibly soft. “Wasn’t supposed to what?”

“Build a life here. With you. With them. All of it.”

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