Page 60 of The Fire Beneath the Frost

“Of course,” I said, forcing a grin.“That would be… delightful.”

Sofia turned to Mira and Dimitri with a gracious smile and the kind of warmth that always felt a bit rehearsed.“You must both join us.Our treat, of course.It’ll be lovely to get to know Vera’s friends.”

My gaze met Dimitri’s across the room.For a breath, everything else went quiet.I gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod.

He caught it and straightened slightly.“It would be a pleasure, Comrade,” he said.

Mira, still clutching her overnight bag like a warrior’s shield, gave a tight smile.“Thank you.I’d be honored to join you.”

ChapterEighteen

Dimitri

Ikept both hands on the wheel of my father’s old blue Lada, following the glossy black GAZ-14 Chaika like it was a predator I didn’t want to provoke.The thing practically purred over the Leningrad streets, while our boxy heap of rust rattled every time we hit a crack in the pavement.Which was often.Mira sat silently beside me, arms crossed, her eyes fixed on the sleek car ahead like it had personally offended her.

I didn’t know Vera’s parents rated that kind of car.Government issue, yes, but that car was only given to the elites.Only the genuine power players rode in a Chaika with curtains in the windows and a chauffeur in a double-breasted coat.

“Didn’t think Vera was the type to come from royalty,” I muttered.

Mira gave a sharp sniff, still glaring at the car ahead.“Her parents probably have two dachas and a private butcher.Elitists.”

Then she caught herself.Her face softened instantly.

“I’m sorry.That wasn’t fair.I have a headache.”

“No offense taken,” I muttered.

Silence returned, but this time it wasn’t bristling.

I glanced at her and then back to the car ahead of us.“Funny, isn’t it?The people who preach equality get driven around in a limousine while the rest of us cram into trolleybuses and freeze our asses off.”

She huffed a tired laugh.“Dima…”

“I know, I know.I’m sorry,” I blurted.“That was uncalled for.”

We shared a brief look.Mutual apology in a single glance.Welcome to Soviet friendship.

The Chaika turned onto Sadovaya Street, and I followed.We passed rows of buildings in that drab mustard-grey shade the city wore like a second skin until the limo glided to a halt beside a nondescript structure I’d only heard about in whispers:Metropol.A place people like me didn’t go to.Not because we weren’t allowed.Because we wouldn’t dare.

I parked the Lada behind the Chaika and killed the engine.Mira shifted in her seat, then placed her hand lightly on mine.

“Vera’s parents are very important in the Party,” she whispered.“Be on your best behavior.”

I swallowed.“Wasn’t planning on starting a revolution.”

Her hand lingered just long enough to feel like a warning.Then we both got out of the car.

Vera emerged from the Chaika looking perfect, of course.Those sharp cheekbones glowing in the wind, and Petyr at her side like some accessory she wore effortlessly.Behind them came the parents.Her father looked aloof, obviously accustomed to going to actual restaurants.Her mother, on the other hand, radiated authority like she could reroute the Neva River with a memo.

Sofia caught sight of me and grinned the way crocodiles probably smiled before dinner.

She clapped a manicured hand on my shoulder.

“Bringing an honest worker to Metropol!”she boomed in a voice that could have filled the entire restaurant.“Now that’s a Party privilege!”

My face went hot.I looked like I was wearing a burlap sack compared to their clothes.Mira winced beside me.Petyr glanced down at his shoes.Vera said nothing.

A tall man in a black suit stepped out from behind the heavy glass doors.When he saw Vera’s parents, he smiled like he’d just spotted celebrities.

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