Page 52 of The Beauty Who Loved Him

Vaslav didn’t miss a beat. “I didn’t think you would mind if I assumed you’d want a more western influence on your marriage name.”

She couldn’t deny that he melted her heart into a beatless puddle with the news. It wasn’t something she considered. This had been fast, and while a piece of her felt like it had known him her entire life ... There was still a lot to learn. His consideration of her homeland was terribly sweet because he had proven on more than one occasion that he didn’t think of others very often, if at all.

She knew better than to point it out.

Vera went the opposite direction when she asked, oozing saccharine, “Just what do you do to people that take things from your hands?”

Honestly curiosity made her ask. Her secret love of risks had her asking the question the way she did, however.

Maybe that was her first mistake.

“I cut theirs off,” he deadpanned.

No, the question wasn’t a mistake at all. Falling in love with him was.

Too bad she didn’t regret it.

Vera lifted up on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to Vaslav’s still lips. Before he could even kiss her back, she was already rocking back on her heels. Waving the card that he didn’t even look at, she said, “Thank you for this.”

“I expect regular statements showing you spent money. Reasonable money, a coffee here and there just won’t do.”

Well, then. It was his money. She could surely spend it.

“Will do, Vas.”

“Come here.”

Vaslav grabbed her wrist once more, but this time, it wasn’t quite as tight as he tugged her up for another kiss that he demanded. She parted her lips only slightly for him to take what he wanted from her pout. The lingering hint of mint she found on the tip of his tongue had her senses buzzing, and his facial hair, filling in nicely again, tickled her with every stroke of his mouth over hers.

All too soon, he pulled away.

Vera wouldn’t have that.

“Hannah isn’t flying in for two more days, and the funeral isn’t until Friday, anyway,” Vera told Vaslav when he still didn’t let her step back from him because his hand had not yet left her body. “I don’t really care if Kiril doesn’t mind making the drive tonight. I want to stay.”

For as long as she could. And she didn’t plan on staying away for much longer, either.

Vaslav’s tongue peeked out to wet his lower lip as he murmured, “Then, I guess you’re staying, kisska.”

11.

“Did you know Kiril sleeps in the sitting room at night?”

Vaslav’s daydream ended the second Vera made her presence known. While moving light didn’t typically help his migraines, there was something about the flickering of a fire in a dark room that helped to pull him further into his mind and away from the physical presence of everything else around him. Including what hurt.

“Igor mentioned it,” Vaslav said as Vera padded into the room and came to sit beside him on the plush couch where he’d found some relief. The fire helped. She set the plate of snacks, a mix of cheese, cut meats, and crackers, on the coffee table and produced what waited for him in her other hand. He eyed the small glass jar resting in the middle of her palm. “What’s that, now?”

“Coconut oil.”

Vaslav squinted at the white muck in the clear jar. “Where did you find that?”

“Mira told me there was some in the pantry when I asked.”

“Vera, I told you to walk around and have a think if you needed to, not to raid my cupboards and wake up the maid at one in the morning.”

He couldn’t help that she wanted to be awake with him at all hours of the damn night. Not that Vaslav would pretend that he didn’t like it, that was a given.

“First of all,” Vera started. “I wasn’t even finished talking about Kiril sleeping on a couch in the sitting room when you have at least ten bedrooms available in the upper floors.”