Page 22 of Imperfect Desires

Yelena studies me for a moment longer then pulls me into a tight hug.

Night falls over the apartment, and we sit at the small glass table in the living room's corner. A single lamp casts a soft glow over the space. The windows reflect the city lights stretching out beneath us.

Yelena leans back in her chair, her feet tucked beneath her. She watches me carefully.

I sit with my knees pulled up to my chest, arms wrapped around my legs. My heart still feels bruised beneath my ribs.

Yelena sips from a glass of wine. “So.”

I glance toward her with a raised eyebrow.

“Lev,” she says simply.

I shake my head. “Don’t.”

Yelena tilts her head. “Do you think he’s lying?”

“What?”

“About not feeling the same way?”

My heart skips a couple of beats. “I don’t know.”

Yelena’s gaze sharpens. “He’s lying.”

My stomach flips. “You don’t know that.”

“I've just realized that I've seen his gaze linger too long on you, once or twice. And also, I know men.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Not in the way you are thinking,” she laughs. “But I study men.”

I laugh weakly. “You sound like Papa.”

Yelena’s mouth curves faintly. “Maybe.”

I sigh. My gaze drifts toward the window. “He said I’m Viktor’s sister. That it would be a betrayal.”

Yelena’s mouth tightens. “He’s not wrong.”

I look at her sharply.

“Alina,” Yelena says carefully, “if he had touched you—if Viktor found out…”

I shiver. “I know.”

“He’s protecting you.”

My throat burns. “Maybe.”

Yelena watches me. “And maybe he’s protecting himself, too.”

I close my eyes. My pulse hammers in my ears. “You don’t know that,” I whisper.

Silence stretches between us, and Yelena sets her glass down. “It doesn’t matter, Alina. He’s not going to risk his life for you.”

My chest constricts painfully. “I know.”

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