Had he compelled the doctor to give her special treatment?
Probably.
Mattie completed two more rounds of up and down the stairs, then stretched, grimacing at the tightness in her right calf that was not quite a cramp but close.
The lab was bright with the late morning sun coming through the glass façade. Dimitri had his syringes laid out on the counter in a neat row. Petrov had just finished washing their coffee mugs at the sink and was drying his hands on a dirty rag.
"Don't comment," Petrov said without turning.
"You are doing my job. I'm the one who's supposed to wash the dishes."
He shrugged. "I wanted fresh coffee, and I didn't know when you'd be done with your exercise routine."
"Fair enough. Sorry for not rinsing them earlier."
He waved a dismissive hand. "Do you want coffee or not?"
"I would love a cup."
She took her usual seat on the stool next to the front window, where she could observe what was happening on the street.
Dimitri glanced up at her, his eyes traveling over her body and coming back to her face, as if he'd been taking inventory to make sure nothing had gone missing in the seven minutes since he'd seen her on the stairs.
Was he checking to see whether her exercise routine was working?
He'd just said that she was losing muscle, so that probably wasn't it. Her body wouldn't be changing that fast. His was, though, and it was wonderful and annoying because he didn't have to do anything to look like a magazine cover model. It was the immortal genes that were making all the changes.
"Your body is getting better by the day, you know," she said.
Dimitri's hand stilled.
Petrov laughed.
"What do you mean?" Dimitri asked.
"I mean, you don't lift anything that's heavier than a beaker, and your muscles are growing as if you were pumping iron for hours a day. It's not fair."
He arched a brow, and a small smirk twisted his lips. "Who says that I'm not lifting anything. I think I lift plenty."
She opened her mouth to ask what he'd meant, saw his expression, and felt the heat climb up her neck.
"Dimitri."
"What?"
"You did not just…"
"I did not just what?"
Petrov made a sound that wasn't quite a cough.
"Konstantin. If you laugh, I will put salt in your vodka."
"I am not laughing."
"Yes, you are. I can see your belly heaving."
"You are imagining things."
