Page 70 of Blood & Snow
Previous attempts at conversation felt more like he was grilling me for information.
This feels like he actually cares.
"It was. In Russia, New Year is the real celebration. Christmas is religious, but New Year is for everyone. My parents would stay up until midnight, and we'd drink champagne and watch the fireworks from the roof of the apartment building."
"Even as children?"
I chuckled.
"It was just apple juice, but we didn't know it."
The memory makes me smile.
"Mama would make Olivier salad and herring under a fur coat. The table would be covered with food, and we'd eat until we couldn't move."
I feel nostalgia warming me.
"Your parents are gone now."
It's not a question.
I've mentioned them before.
"Three years ago.Mamochkahad cancer.Batya, well… I don't want to talk about it."
My mood sours, but I try to push those memories away.
"Must be difficult having no one to give you gifts forNovy God."
He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small velvet box and my breath catches.
"Xander, no."
My body stiffens from head to toe and I shake my head.
I can't accept any more lavish gifts from him.
Not only do I not know what they mean to him, butIrina won't believe I keep getting so lucky with work lost and found.
"Open it," he says, offering it to me, but I don't move.
When he sets the box on the seat between us, I cover my face and press my fingers into my eye sockets, wishing this would go away.
"I can't accept any more gifts from you. The dress, the earrings, the tree for the apartment—it's too much."
I lower my hands to see him staring at me with that insistent expression he gets as if I’m defying orders.
"Open it."
I've learned not to argue with him, though I desperately want to.
With shaking fingers, I pick up the box and lift the lid.
A diamond necklace nestles against black velvet.
Not huge or flashy, but clearly expensive.
The stones catch the passing streetlights and throw tiny rainbows.
