Mikhail rolled his eyes playfully and shook his head as he leaned down towards her ear, dropping his voice to ensure only she could hear him.
“You’re so beautiful when you respond to me, Anya.” Anastasia gasped, sinking against the wall and dropping her whole weight against it.
Mikhail was off of her in a moment, swiftly turning on his heel and disappearing into the party crowd — leaving Anastasia infuriated and breathless on the sidelines.
“I should’ve made him play the part of a damnmute,”she hissed before standing up and shaking her shoulders gently to clear her head.
Two can play that game, Mikhail. I will make you suffer.
For the rest of the evening, Anastasia and Mikhail kept an eye on the other. They swept through waltzes, drinks, and dinner with separate partners — both of them attempting to curry favor with nobility while simultaneously making the other jealous. Neither one of them would admit it, but they were both doing a splendid job.
Mikhail watched with a careful eye as she reintroduced herself to nearly every man in the room, finding himself drawn closer to her whenever he sensed her father was near.
The Tsar and Tsarina were too image-obsessed to try anything in the middle of the ball, but it didn’t keep Mikhail from searching for Anastasia’s face whenever he felt like her father swayed a little too close to her.
Anastasia, blissfully unaware of her father, eyed every fan in the room aimed at Mikhail at not-so-subtly using hers to tell them to fuck off. It served a dual purpose — people could assume whatever they wanted about their relationship, but they talked about them.
While the masquerade balls usually went well into Wednesday morning, Anastasia felt herself beginning to fade after midnight. Most of the conversations past midnight would be futile as patrons got too drunk to care or remember.
She’d only hoped that she had made enough of a good impression with those she had met earlier in the night. Her eyes began searching the room, wondering if she should even wait for Mikhail or try to find him.
We arrived together. That was the purpose. We didn’t say anything about leaving together…Anastasia’s thoughts were a muddled mess as she refused to sort through her feelings.
It was a simple enough question, but she found herself paralyzed with it. She looked around the crowded ballroom and finally found him. A beautiful brunette — holding a small dog — was attempting to cuddle up next to him on a settee.
He doesn’t seem… bothered by her at all, does he? No, of course not. You’re the only one he despises, no matter how many excuses he makes to touch you.
Anastasia turned around as quickly as her heavy gown would allow her, rushing out of the ballroom and into the dark of the night, wondering why hot tears pricked at her face.
On the other side of the dance floor, the sparkling lights of Anastasia’s gown caught Mikhail’s attention like a shooting star. Maybe no one else could see it, but behind the composure on her face, he swore he saw the threat of tears.
Without thinking twice or letting himself debate over his heart and head, he stood up — excusing himself from the brunette and rushing through the crowds of guests after Anastasia.
He finally caught up with her down the hall, Anastasia purposefully not looking at him as he kept pace beside her.
“Anya, stop,” Mikhail’s brow was furrowed as he got in front of her and grabbed her shoulders. “What’s wrong? Did your father say something?” He scanned her face.
“What did I say about calling me that?” Anastasia rolled her eyes, pushing his hands off of her and pushing past him toward her rooms. “I’m surprised you even saw me leave.”
“What doesthatmean?” Mikhail stood still for a moment with a confused look on his face before shaking his head and following.
“You seemed perfectly content where you were.”
“That’s what this is about?” Mikhail scoffed. “Are you jealous?”
“No!” Anastasia’s denial was much too adamant. They had reached the doors to her suite, and she tossed them open, Mikhail following her inside angrily.
Anastasia suddenly felt like a girlish fool, embarrassed by whatever thoughts she had about Mikhail. She kicked off her shoes and began ripping her hairpins out furiously.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mikhail rushed over to her, grabbing her wrists. “Stop that! What has gotten into you? You’re the one who said that I should go as yourtutor.”He said the last word like it was a curse.
“You’re the one who can’t stop living in the past!” Anastasia screamed, fighting to get her wrists free.
“Oh right,” Mikhail backed Anastasia up until her legs met the couch, forcing her to sit while he towered over her. “Excuse the fuck out of me for not being over the fact that my mother died.” He didn’t have the heart anymore to accuse her directly.
“You don’t even trust me!” Anastasia hissed, bringing her foot up to kick him in the groin and missing narrowly.
“For fuck’s sake, Anastasia!” Mikhail grunted, releasing her wrists and taking a few steps back. “For… fuck’s… sake…”
