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And once again, the knife of guilt twists inside my gut. “Ready to dance?” I suggest, and I finish off my drink.
Standing, I offer her my hand, and Alina places her fingers on my palm, letting me guide her to her feet. We weave through the tables to the crowded dance floor, and there, I pull her into my arms. For the first time, I can do so without raising my guard.
It feels so good to move freely with her. Our casual blend of dance styles flows seamlessly. The mass of people around us and the jazzy rhythms encourage us to get close, and it doesn’t take long before I’m resisting my arousal as Alina’s fit curves draw me in.
When she’s finally breathless and we’re both dripping with sweat, Alina leans up onto her toes to put her lips beside my ear. “Want to take a break?” she suggests.
“I have a better idea,” I say, interlacing our fingers once more as I guide her from the dance floor.
We weave through a sea of strangers, finally making it to the long, deserted hallway we came from. And this time, Alina’s perfectly relaxed as I show her back into the alley where we parked.
“Do I get to know where we’re going this time?” she asks once we’re safely inside my 4Runner.
I shake my head no and give her a wink before reversing back into the street.
It doesn’t take long for her to figure it out, though, and once again, Alina is brimming with excitement as I pull into the parking lot of the Coit Observatory. We ride the elevator to the roof, Alina’s hand clasped in mine the whole time. I can’t help the warmth radiating through me at the electrical current that passes between us.
Public access closed almost a half hour ago, so the roof is entirely cleared out. But that doesn’t seem to dampen Alina’s enthusiasm.
“I didn’t realize we could be up here at this time of night,” she gushes, making a beeline for one of the telescopes bolted to the rooftop.
“I know the night guard, so he’s giving us an extra hour,” I say, following her. I feel like I’ve smiled more in the past few days than I have in ages, but I can’t seem to stop myself when I’m around Alina. She radiates a happiness that’s contagious.
Taking up a pair of binoculars provided by the observatory, I turn my focus in the same direction as her telescope, curious whether I can spot what she might be looking for.
“You like the stars, Mishka?” Alina’s voice is soft, content, and she glances my way after a moment.
“Yeah. I mean, I spent a lot of time looking up at them while camping as a kid.” My brother was the one who could go on about alien conspiracies and life beyond our solar system. But I don’t say as much because talking about Sascha is painful, and the less the Sakharovs know about him, the better. Even Alina. “I’ve always found them very peaceful.”
“Me too,” she agrees. “Did you ever want to be an astronaut as a kid?”
I chuckle. “No. I never really learned to dream that big. Besides, I barely made it through high school. NASA would never have wanted me. What about you?”
“No, I knew pretty early on that I wanted to become a vet. That’s what I’m in school for now—well, I guess not in school for a couple more weeks, really, since I’m between semesters. I took the summer off, but I just have a few more years.”
“Really?” I lower my binoculars, studying Alina more carefully now, and she turns her attention from the telescope to look at me. I don’t know why it surprises me, but I hadn’t assumed she had a drive to do something more meaningful with her life. I suppose because her family makes enough money, and she’ll never want for anything.
“What? Did you think I was just a brainless girl waiting to be sold into marriage?” she teases, her eyes glinting with playful warning.
“Not brainless, no. And I think that’s really cool—wanting to go to college and put your skills to good use. I guess I just imagined your father would want to marry you off. So many Bratva families do with their daughters. And you don’t really need a degree to be a rich man’s wife.”
Alina’s smile falters, her face growing serious now. “It has come up,” she admits, her angst growing visibly. “My father has said in no uncertain terms that he wants me to marry for the benefit of the family, but he doesn’t seem intent on choosing who that man is. He just wants me to ‘marry someone worthy’.”
It’s easy to read the meaning behind the discomfort on her face. Rather than tiptoe around it, I voice what she’s not quite saying. “And I most definitely would not make that short list of eligible men he would approve of.”
Alina bites her lip, her look apologetic as she peers up at me through her lashes and shakes her head.
“How do you feel about it?” I ask. “Needing to find a man who lives up to your father’s standards, I mean.” She couldn’t possibly know me well enough to have an opinion about whether she considers me worthy. And she certainly won’t once I kill her father.
“I don’t care about his stupid standards. I’m not interested in strengthening the family name. I want to live my life for me—to become a vet and love who I want to love. I don’t want my future to be centered around whom my family wants me to marry,” she says vehemently.
Tension crackles between us as her passionate speech inspires me. Alina’s never looked more beautiful to me than she does right now, her chin held high, her blue eyes sharp with defiance. Even the loose tendrils of her golden hair that dance in the wind make her look more fierce and powerful.
Moved by her strength, I close the distance between us to wrap my arms around her waist. As she peers up at me with a daring heat in her gaze, I lean in and claim her soft lips.
23
ALINA
