Page 25 of The Dancer and the Grumpy Billionaire

I look out my own window. “I suppose I don’t, either.”

We both sit for a long while, just watching the movement of the clouds.

“Gigi,” I finally say, “I need to know the truth about you. From you. About who you are. About your family.”

She turns and looks at me sharply. “Why?”

“I know who your father is, Gigi,” I say. “I knowwhathe is.”

“He is a father trying to protect his daughter,” she answers quickly.

“He is a crime boss, and a dangerous one, from what I gather. “Sasha Gusev.”

She gestures into the space between us. “And he has what to do with this?’

“Youcannotbethatnaïve,” I say, my tone nastier than I intend. “I am of Ukrainian descent during a war between Russia and Ukraine. I work for a high-profile American Senator. Gigi, I am an adult with an adult life. I have real concerns about my safety, your safety, the safety of American political information.”

“Are you saying I do not live an adult life?”

“That’swhat you took out of what I just said?” I ask, incredulously. “I understand that you are an adult.”

“I have a job, too.”

“Yes, I get that.”

“I am under pressure, as well.”

“Okayfine,” I growl. “Whatever. Listen, I like you, Gigi – Galina – very much. Too much if I’m being honest. I feel protective of you, but I am not an idiot. I live in the real world and you…don’t.”

“I hate the name Galina,” she says. “I never use it. And I would love to live in the real world with you, Vasily, but I am a prisoner in my own life.”

“Then talk to me. The more information I have…”

“What?” she asks acidly. “You’ll have a bunch of information more likely to get you hurt or killed? If your own safety is of most importance, then it’s best I tell you nothing.”

“Well, if you decide to tell me nothing, then it would be best if we don’t…”

“We don’t what?” she asks, her expression intense.

My teeth might crack, I am clenching my jaw so tightly. “I have been advised to stay away from you, Gigi.”

I watch her process this bit of information. She sits back in her seat, folding her arms over her chest as she looks back toward the sky.

“I have nothing to do with my father’s business,” she says quietly after a time. “I have not lived with him since my mother died.”

“When was that?” I ask.

“Nearly twelve years ago,” she answers. “He sent Vera and me away soon after, and we moved to the States when I was fifteen, so we only talk by phone now. He says it was very bloody and violent, the way she was killed. He did not want to risk me. He still does not want to risk me, or so he says is the reason I am so caged.”

“What happened the night I first saw you?”

“I went for a run at night. My bodyguards came to retrieve me.”

“Does that happen often? They looked…violent.”

“They can be,” she says with an aloof shrug. “Alexei more so than Roman. He is kinder.”

“And they go everywhere with you?” I ask.

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