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Despite the scenario he’d painted likely to end in bloodshed, I couldn’t stop grinning. “You’re in love with me and planning a wedding?”

Yuriy pulled his hand away, heat rushing into his cheeks. “I—I meant hypothetically. Stop looking at me that way. I was just trying to make a point.”

“Point well received.”

His eyes flicked to mine. Something warm flickered there. Unsteady. Vulnerable.

“You don’t have to figure things out on your own.” I leaned in, lowering my voice. “That’s what I’m here for, and no matter how difficult this gets, your family doesn’t get to decide who’s right for you.”

“And you do?” he asked, but there was no challenge in it. Just curiosity.

“Yes,” I said simply.

His breath caught. I saw it. Felt it.

When the plates were cleared, Yuriy sat back and let out a slow exhale. The candle flickered between us, catching on the bruise beneath his eye. Some of the sadness had drained from him, but not all. Not yet.

I would fix that.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

He looked down at his hands. “That we should’ve killed each other while we had the chance.”

I huffed a small laugh. “We never would have.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Why not?”

I reached across the table, brushed my fingers over his. Just a touch. A whisper of connection. He didn’t pull away.

“Because I realized that even then, I couldn’t stop watching you.”

His pulse jumped in his throat.

“I’m on a mission tonight,” I said quietly.

“Oh?” His voice dipped low. “To do what?”

“To make sure the sadness in your eyes is gone by the time I take you back to the hotel.”

Silence.

Slowly, Yuriy turned his hand under mine, his fingers brushing my palm.

“You’re doing a good job so far,” he murmured.

The air between us changed. Became softer. He didn’t smile fully, but the edges of his mouth curved.

Yuriy and I left a tip that was more than the whole dinner cost, which made the owner, a tiny woman with white hair tucked into a knitted scarf, come bustling out of the kitchen to thank us personally. She clasped her hands, beaming like we’d saved her restaurant from bankruptcy.

“Such good, handsome boys.” She tapped Yuriy’s cheek as if she’d known him his whole life. “May the holidays bring you only sweetness.”

Before we could protest, she shoved a small paper bag into my hands. “For the road. Fresh vatrushka. Still warm.”

Yuriy peeked inside, and his eyes lit up like a little kid at Christmas. “Cheese or cherry?”