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They entered the dining hall. A terribly long room with a terribly long dining table stretching across its middle. Chairs stood rigid, backs carved and gilt. Chandeliers hung at even intervals above it.
She quirked an eyebrow at the excess and he smiled again, walking ahead of her, taking her into the smaller and more modest family dining room, wall to wall with the dining hall. The space was painted dark grey, with heavy oak furniture that had been all the rage when the house was built. No matter, the fireplace made the space inviting, the logs crackling in welcome as they entered.
Plates had been set, the food was kept warm on a trolley, and as they each took a seat, he realized she was still in her pajamas.
Nothing to be done.
“Wine?” he asked, not waiting for a reply before he signaled the waiting staff to pour their drinks. “Now, what did your family think of you binding yourself to Gregor?”
For the first time she looked properly taken aback at how abruptly he brought Gregor back into the conversation. He couldn’t keep a smirk down, reaching for his glass, holding it out to her in patient wait for her to grab hers and clink it with his.
A beginning, of sorts.
To negotiations.
Chapter 3 - Alina
She looked at the wine glass being reached out to her. The red liquid seemed to carry heady symbolism of the blood toasts of old, when their kin stalked the Earth mostly in dragon form, until they were forced into hiding in their human countenances to get away from the hysteria and dragon slaying.
She reached out, grabbed her glass, raised it to his. The clink rang like a silver bell. Alina wasn’t sure what to make of it. Or of him. His gaze was distracting, though she knew she had a good enough head on her shoulders to withstand it. Whenever he smiled, though, the expression transferred directly into his eyes and she had already begun to form a slight obsession with it, like it was a supernatural phenomenon. One moment he looked carved in stone—the next his face softened, and his gaze warmed. The two sides to him seemed in complete contrast.
She knew very little of him, except that he’d been leading this branch of the Kuznetsov family business for the past century and a half or so. To learn more, to find out what truly made him tick, she would have to prod him the same way he was prodding her. She wondered if he’d respect her for respecting him, or whether he wanted her to push against his boundaries. There was no telling with men in his position. Flattery might get one everything, or a yawn while taking zero bullshit usually earned at least a smile of approval.
He was still waiting for her answer to his Gregor question.
Alina sighed, having a big mouthful of wine, picking up her fork. The salmon smelled delicious.
“My family didn’t think much about the whole Gregor thing,” she admitted, wishing she could lie or skirt the truth on this one, but knowing it would work against her. He deserved to know and would expect nothing but full honesty. Anything less would make it impossible for him to trust her moving forward, and she needed his trust if he thought there was any possibility she had somehow planned her way into his house. She pushed away the irritation flaring back up at him thinking her capable, focusing on her food.
“Your family didn’t think much of it?” he asked.
“Nope,” she said, one shoulder raised in a shrug.
“What?” he asked, getting her eyes on his as he observed her for a moment, a slight furrow appearing between his brows. “Like they didn’t care?”
“Something like that,” she conceded, chewing the salmon and keeping from closing her eyes at the lemony-buttery taste of it.
“Semyon Kumarin didn’t care who his daughter was binding herself to?” he asked, putting his fork down and leaning back on his chair, crossing his arms.
She would’ve thought it was a gesture meant to underline how little he believed her, but the absolute glee in his eyes told a different story. He found it immensely entertaining, for some reason. She wished she could stick her fork in his thigh. Smug bastard.
“And how long have you called it ‘the whole Gregor thing’?” he asked. “Just for future reference.”
That pulled an involuntary smile out of her, replaced with a glare for him to shut up. She reached for her wine again, using it to get rid of the mirth and hide how affected she felt by his continued undivided attention. His gaze went from softly detached to intense in a fraction of a second. It kept making her head spin.
“Actually, for a while,” she said, wishing desperately she could shut up already. “Maybe I knew… who he was…” She trailed off, shaking her head a little and actually getting herself to shut up already.
“You didn’t listen to your gut?” he wondered.
He made it sound like it was a capital offense in his book.
“He wasnice,” she said. “Attentive. When he was around. He was away a lot. For work. Or, I guess that should be for ‘work’.” She hooked her fingers around the final word, making it into the lie she now knew it must have been most of the times Gregor had told her where he was going.
That made Dmitri smile again. She surreptitiously sipped her wine.
It was true, though. One of the best parts about dating Gregor had been that he was gone for three weeks out of every month. She’d trusted that he’d been working. Not for one second had she thought he was away gambling. With what money? Had he been stealing from her too? From her family?
Gregor was a dead man walking if her father found out. If there was one thing Semyon Kumarin couldn’t stand in his household, it was theft. Alina had always found it amazingly contradictory of him since he seemed fine with trading in weapons and investing in new drugs shipped in from overseas. But she’d rarely argued about it.
