Page 37 of The Beauty Who Loved Him

Vaslav gestured to the remaining posts. “Are we working?”

“I still want a break.”

From him or the work?

Vaslav opted not to ask; he didn’t care. “Fine. And about Vera ...”

Demyan arched one brow higher than the other. “Yeah, I’ll take all the rest back to her, huh?”

Right.

All those feelings.

That wasn't what Vaslav meant, though.

“She’s safe with me,” Vaslav said.

And where she needs to be.

Demyan’s cheek twitched, and his jaw worked like he was chewing on the words to keep them from spilling from his mouth. It didn’t last long, but what came out wasn’t as bad as Vaslav thought it might be. Lucky for them both.

“Knowing what I do about you,” Demyan returned, “forgive me for not trusting that to be true.”

“Well,” Vaslav replied just as swift, “nobody said you had to.”

Hadn’t he made that clear?

8.

An unexpected thunderstorm rolled in on the morning of Demyan’s departure. The heavy, whipping winds and torrent of rainfall kept Vera hidden beneath the safety of the entrance alcove of the main house while Igor rushed through the sheet of falling water to pack the one piece of luggage her father brought along into the back of a waiting SUV.

She didn’t see the point in rushing. The rain soaked him, anyway. It didn’t matter to Igor. He wasn’t even tasked with carrying the luggage but proclaimed all the same that it would give the father and daughter duo on the steps a chance to say goodbye in private.

Without the rain.

It was strange the way rain and wind could make the world look grey around her. All the color of the fall seemed to bleed away while the sky cried.

The majority of the thunder and cracks of lightning had already passed them by, and it didn’t appear like what remained of the shitty weather would keep her father’s flight grounded for an extended period, so he opted to leave on time, as planned. Beside her on the steps, dry under the small alcove, Demyan said nothing as Igor slammed the rear hatch of the SUV down and headed for the driver’s seat.

“That’s that,” Demyan said, glancing her way. “Looks like my ride is ready.”

“But not you,” she replied. “You’re not ready.”

Vera could tell.

It was all in the eyes, her father’s eyes, that was. Like hers, she found that Demyan’s eyes were often the window to his soul when he was staring into the face of someone he loved. Open, deep, and true.

“Are you going to sell the villa?” her father asked, not acknowledging what she’d already said.

Vera shrugged. “I might.”

“Or?”

“Real estate is a good investment, I hear.”

Especially real estate in Moscow. Vera had no plans on getting rid of the villa after she married Vaslav if she wouldn’t make double the price she had paid for the place, but that wasn’t important at the moment. There were a million other things on Vera’s mind besides her home in the city that had no leans against the property.

Demyan’s brow creased. “I’m not sure if you’re purposely avoiding my question, or—”