I followed her gaze and found Roman. I sighed. Right. I almost forgot he was here. But why was he smiling? The smile was not directed at me. His eyes were on Inna with easy recognition. He looked at her as if he knew her well enough to be glad about it.
“Grace?” he called.
Grace. That was Inna’s middle name, which meant he knew her before tonight, well enough for the middle name to be the one that stuck.
I was still processing the geometry when Inna crossed the distance between them and threw herself into his arms. I stood still there, watching, waiting for the moment to be a joke. It wasn’t. Roman wrapped both arms around her and pulled her in. His hands settled against her bare back, fingers pressing in. A dark feeling rose through my chest that I recognized immediately and found entirely out of place.
I moved before the decision had fully formed. I gripped Roman’s arm and pulled him off her.
Inna blinked back into the room as if she’d momentarily forgotten where she was. “Oh, sorry, Dmitri, this is Romeo. Romeo, this is Dmitri.”
Romeo. I nearly laughed at that. My eyes stayed on Roman while my hand found Inna’s waist and drew her into my side. The smirk on his face said everything he was too composed to put into words.
“Come with me.” I kept my voice level as I moved, drawing Inna away from him. I needed to know how she knew that man, and more urgently, I needed to understand what made her face look so bright when she saw him.
In all the time I have been with her, she has never looked at anyone the way she looked at Roman.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Inna Grace
“Wait. Dmitri, hey!” I calledout to Dmitri as he dragged me through the back exit of the building. The music and laughter dulled into a distant pulse. My heel caught against the uneven ground, and I stumbled forward. He didn’t slow down until we were far enough from the crowd, far enough that whatever this was wouldn’t have an audience.
I pulled my hand from his grip the second he stopped, steadying myself, and pushed my hair back into place. My heart was still racing, though now it had less to do with his sudden reaction and more with the way he stood there. He stood half-turned to me, his body rigid as if he were holding himself together.
“What the fuck was that?” he asked, one hand braced against his hip while the other pointed back toward the building.
I blinked, still trying to catch up. “What?”
“Romeo?” he scoffed, the name sounding bitter in his mouth. “How do you know him?”
It clicked what this was all about, and I let out a breath,brushing invisible dust off my dress. “Is that why you nearly broke my leg?” I lifted my foot slightly, gesturing at the heels. “I’m wearing these, in case you didn’t notice.”
“I asked a fucking question!”
The shift in his tone snapped my attention back to reality. I looked up properly this time, and the irritation in me paused, replaced by the realization that he was angry. I had never seen him angry.
“He is an old friend,” I said. “We met back in New York. I’m surprised he’s even here. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. I mean, can you imagine—”
“He lives in New York City,” Dmitri cut in. “You used to stay in Utica. Don’t fool me.”
The words sounded odd, not because of what he said but because of how he said it. I stayed quiet, trying to understand where this was coming from. Did he know him? “How do you even know where he is from?”
He dragged a hand over his face, then looked back at me. “What was that back there?” he asked. “With his hands all over you.”
“It’s called a hug,” I corrected him because he didn’t sound right there. “I was happy to see him. He’s my friend. I told you that.”
“Oh, a hug.” He let out a dry laugh. “Look at you explaining it to me like I should have stood there and enjoyed it.”
“I don’t understand what the problem is,” I said, and this time I meant it. The anger in him felt misplaced, like I had stepped into a fight that had nothing to do with me.
He stepped closer, and instinctively, I took a step back. The space between us shrank anyway. His presence swallowed the distance.
“You let another man touch you,” he said, his voice dropping more dangerously, “and you’re asking me what the problem is?”
I swallowed. “It was a hug! Stop twisting it like I’m some…” I stopped myself, then finished anyway, “like I’m some cheap girl.”
“Well, stop acting like one,” he snapped.
