Page 28 of Dragon Bodyguard
“I didn’t properly thank you,” she said. “For saving my life.”
“Oh,” he said. “It was my pleasure.”
“Getting shot at was your pleasure?” she asked.
“As you know, I’m very dedicated to my work,” he remarked, not meaning for it to sound quite so flirtatious, realizing it had when Aleksander quirked a brow at him. Misha cleared his throat, looking at the glasses again, wishing fervently for wine so that he’d have something to occupy himself with.
“How long have you been here now, Misha?” Ilya asked.
“Almost twelve years,” Misha replied, glancing at the man who was in the seat at one end of the table, while Dmitri had claimed his usual seat at the other end.
“Still a newcomer,” Ilya commented.
“Misha is head of security, uncle,” Dmitri said.
“Oh, I know,” Ilya nodded. “Still, twelve years isn’t very long.”
“Long enough,” Dmitri said, his tone carrying a hint of sharpness that sounded like a warning for Ilya not to offend members of Dmitri’s household to their faces in front of him.
Misha wondered if Dmitri would stand up for him in private, too, or if it was only while other employees and Misha himself were present. He had a feeling Dmitri would fight anyone who slighted those loyal to him. He straightened his posture, not looking at his boss, but hoping he could tell that the gesture meant Dmitri having his back filled him with pride.
The food was brought in, served on plates with an intricate golden lace décor. Misha had gone with Dmitri when he picked them out. The set had been his bonding ceremony gift to Anna.
Misha glanced at Kristina. She glanced back, a slight smile placing itself on her mouth again. What was up with her? Was she distracting herself from the distress of the afternoon’s events by playing some sort of game with him? The thought felt true, as though it had to be the most plausible reason. He didn’t want to feel disappointed, but he did. He looked away from her and resolved to keep his focus on his plate.
He wasn’t expected to make conversation. The invitation had been no more than an extension of Ilya’s gratitude. But he listened.
“Oh, you know how it is,” Ilya was finishing off yet another complaint as the dessert was brought in an hour or so later. “You try to find the best ways of making it all seem legit. A front business here, a fake account there. But it is getting harder and harder to avoid the authorities. Don’t you find?”
“The ones we don’t pay off, sure,” Dmitri agreed.
Misha glanced at Kristina, who was looking bored out of her mind, spinning her spoon slowly with her fingers, the tip of it resting against the white tablecloth.
He’d done well. He’d not made eye contact with her again, but now she noticed his gaze on her, raising hers to meet it. Then she looked away again, the boredom staying on. No engagement. She must either have tired of the game, or she was annoyed that he’d rejected it so outright.
He sighed lightly, digging into the gelato. It was hazelnut—his favorite. His eyes met Kristina’s again, and he realized that she was thinking of the same memory he was. The first time they came across an old ice cream parlor that had been hidden away on a side street in the city where she grew up. Neither of them had even known it existed, would never have thought of going looking for it. It had been like a small revelation. A new side to the city that they’d never even considered could be there. A slice of history. Their history. They had been young dragons when it opened its doors, and still, for over fifty years, they’d had no idea it was even there.
It had seemed wildly strange and exciting. As if it gave the promise that there would always be more for them to discover, even with their lifespans being so immense.
He smiled briefly, Kristina mirroring it and he wondered if what he saw in her expression was a sense of renewed hope, or if he was just imagining it because he wanted to see it there. If it was there, then that could mean that rather than her playing games with him all evening, the truth of her behavior was that the attack had rattled her into reassessing her choices. And she’d come to the conclusion that she chose wrong all those years ago. She should have chosen him.
Misha cleared his throat softly, growing surprisingly self-conscious at the thought of how he wanted her to defy the man seated to his left, scraping the bottom of his ice-cream bowl. He felt a billowing sense of revulsion that he was immediately ashamed of. Ilya had embraced him, had bestowed a great honor on him. Whether he was the reason Kristina had distanced herself from him or not shouldn’t matter. In fact, it couldn’t matter. He’d have an enchanted bullet put in his neck faster than he could blink if Ilya so much as caught a whiff of any disobedience. Dmitri would have no choice but to allow it.
Misha put his spoon down, no longer inclined to finish his ice cream.
“Who do you think ordered the kidnapping?” he asked, meeting Ilya’s gaze.
Ilya smiled indulgently. He’d reply, but only because Misha had saved his daughter’s life. “I’ve no idea.”
“Really?” Misha asked.
“Let’s save it for the debriefing,” Ilya said, keeping the smile on.
“You said we’d do it after dinner,” Misha responded, wondering if he’d lost his mind completely or if he was having an aneurysm. “Dinner is finished,” he added, leaning back on his chair, gaze not leaving Ilya’s.
He put that wedge between us, Misha thought, feeling the conviction spread its wings across his chest.He lied to Kristina about what I wanted from her. He drove us apart.
The big question was why, and there was no way that he could ask it. What he could do was make certain Ilya recognized the danger Kristina was most likely still in. Unless they could figure out who their aggressor was, that aggressor was sure to try again and again until they’d succeeded.
