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The clear blue sky forms a perfect backdrop for the historic buildings. I read up on St. Petersburg after Alex first suggested bringing me here. The domed towers are a distinguishing characteristic of Russian Revival architecture. The colors are so vibrant they look like icing sugar on cupcakes. St. Petersburg on a clear winter day is magical.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I brave the icy breeze as Alex shelters me against his body and leads me down the street. While I stare at the gorgeous buildings, he sweeps the surroundings, his gaze alert.
After a short walk, we reach the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood. With the snow covering its domes, it looks as if powdered sugar has been sifted over a rainbow cake. It’s breathtakingly beautiful. Alex takes a selfie of us in front of the church that he sends to Joanne and my mom before we continue on our exploration. By lunchtime, we’ve visited the Palace Square, the State Hermitage Museum, and St. Isaac’s Cathedral. Since my face and feet feel frozen, I’m grateful when we enter a warm restaurant and take a table next to the window. It doesn’t surprise me that the restaurant is empty.
“Did you book out the whole place?” I ask Alex when he seats me.
He offers me a smile as he takes the chair opposite me. “I like my privacy.”
“So you’ve said,” I say, studying him as he picks up the menu.
Our dining alone has more to do with keeping us safe than wanting privacy, I’m sure, and the fact that he’s downplaying it to put me at ease only makes me appreciate his effort more.
“Would you like me to order for you?” he asks. “We could share a selection of starters if you’d like.”
Holding out my hand, I say, “I’ll have a shot at it.”
A broad smile warms his face as he hands me the menu. “I admire your eagerness to learn.”
The double meaning of his words sends heat to my cheeks. He taught me dirty Russian words in bed this morning, and I’m still marveling at how much power an ill-pronounced “ya hochu tvoy chlen”—“I want your cock”—had on him. When I repeated the phrase he’d whispered in my ear, he turned animalistic. The memory alone is enough to turn my underwear damp despite the fact that we’re in a restaurant.
Pushing the erotic flashback aside with effort, I skim over the dishes listed on the menu. I’ve studied enough Russian words in New York to order mushroom pelmeni, which are dumplings served with sour cream.
Alex gives me an approving look. “Great choice. I didn’t know you were improving your Russian on the sly.”
I brush it aside with, “I’ve picked up a few words.” I don’t tell him I was planning on ordering a self-study course before we left New York. I’m not ready to admit how serious I’d been about us before he shoved me onto a plane. He has enough power over me as is. He doesn’t need an ego boost.
“I’m impressed anyway,” he says, ordering the meat pelmeni when the waiter comes to our table.
The boiled dumplings are soft on the outside and fluffy inside. The tangy sour cream complements the savory flavor of the mushrooms perfectly. After a steaming cup of Russian Earl Grey tea, I’m fortified and ready to brave the cold again.
We spend the rest of the afternoon shopping. Alex takes me to a few boutiques, all of them suspiciously empty of customers. He twists my arm into letting him buy clothes for me and gifts for my mom and friends at home. At his insistence, I select a miniature Fabergé egg replica encrusted with rubies for my mom and one with emeralds for Joanne—never mind that I have no idea when I’ll be able to give it to them. He loads armfuls of hand-painted matryoshka dolls into one of our guards’ arms for my colleagues at the hospital and pays for everything with his credit card. When we finally make our way outside with a pile of parcels, the sun is almost setting.
The drivers have been following us, the cars always parked nearby on the curb. Alex steers me to the car Yuri is driving and helps me into the back while the men load our parcels into the trunk.
Once we’re settled inside, I turn to him. “Thank you, Alex. That was an amazing experience.”
“You’re welcome.” He puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against him. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
His smile is warm, but the tension doesn’t leave his features. Even as he presses a kiss to my forehead, his attention is trained outside, as if he expects trouble at any moment.
Fortunately, the trip home proves uneventful. Lena greets us as we enter the house, telling us that Tima has left refreshments in the library to hold us over until dinnertime.
