I’m surprised he names another fairy tale and not one of the great Russian epic tragedies.
“Why?”
“Ivan Tsarevich creates his greatest enemy because he does not heed the warning and releases Koschei the Deathless. But he rights his mistake, killing the evil wizard and rescuing his wife, a powerful warrior in her own right. I appreciate the theme of mistakes and redemption. And earning the love of a strong woman.”
As Evgeny analyzes my choice, I study his. What does his appreciation for mistakes and redemption say about him? What about releasing a great evil into the world because of those mistakes? What do they tell me about his beliefs about the world and himself?
“You seem to know a lot about Russian literature.”
Evgeny’s question, disguised as a statement, pulls me away from the deep thoughts I don’t have answers for.
“My dad taught me. I think, in another life, if we’d had the money, or Mom was still alive, or if my family weren’t so dependent on me staying strong, I would have been a literature professor.”
“You would have drawn your students in with your passion,” Evgeny says, and the words and the expression in his green eyes startle me into silence.
Words slip into my mind, a passage I know nearly as well as the back of my own hand:
There, he gifted the girl a life of luxury, and servants fulfilled her every wish. Though the beast never appeared, he would write her beautiful messages in fire on the marble walls. And through these, the girl found the beast was kind as well as generous.
In time, she wished to see his true form. The beast worried that his grotesque appearance and fearsome voice would frighten her away. But eventually, she convinced him to reveal himself.
“The girl was frightened at first because he did indeed look like a horrible monster, but she overcame her fear, and a fondness grew between them, then blossomed into something more.”
Neither of us says anything when I finish the passage fromThe Scarlet Flowerout loud, and our gazes stay locked. Something shifts between us, as though the words, written so long ago, have allowed us to express what we couldn’t say otherwise.
It’s not an admission, but it’s a start to something. Even if I don’t know exactly what.
And when Evgeny’s hand covers mine, big, warm, gentle, curled possessively, I don’t pull away. Instead, I wind my fingers through his.
14
EVGENY
It’s so late by the time I leave the Kucher Enterprises building that the 405 is almost empty. I lean back and think of Eva as the bright lights slide by.
Something shifted at the sandwich shop on the beach, monumental and world-shaking, like an earthquake. I can still feel her fingers threaded through mine, the weight of her hand, the warmth and the promise.
We had been headed there, tectonic plates shifting and grinding, pressure building until it broke in a great wave that turned my world on end.
But what does it mean?
The reason Eva is in my home hasn’t changed. At least, not on paper. And yet, as Ivan saw, she is so far under my skin now I have no idea how to get her out.
Worse yet, I don’t want to.
I’m in dangerous territory. Extremely dangerous for me, but also for her. If anyone discovers I have feelings for Eva, she willbecome a target. My mother found that out far too late, and my father was never the same, no matter what Ivan said.Ihave never been the same.
And I don’t know what my feelings are. Is it lust? Interest? Something more? I’m not even sure I’m capable of something more.
I don’t want to care for Eva the way I fear, deep down, I’m beginning to.
The kitchen is dark when I come upstairs, and I’m grateful. The last thing I want is to see her. But that goes out the window when I spot faint light spilling from the theater room.
It would be easy to ignore it. I should walk away, go to my room, take a cold shower, and go to sleep. If I can’t, I have plenty of work to do. Dmitri is at the club tonight, and pounding music and darkness might be just the distraction I need.
I could find another woman who can’t see my face in the shadows, someone I could take into the back office and fuck until she can barely walk. She’ll run once I turn on the light, and I won’t have to worry about pesky emotions.
Except when I think of the club, I think of Eva. And I don’t want just any woman. I want her.
