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He hasn’t touched me, but I can feel the pressure of hands on my skin, the hot breath in my ear, and I have the sudden, wild urge to flee.
“Adrik.” Max’s voice is suddenly there, soothing and calming me. “Viktor wouldn’t like you scaring the guest of honor, don’t you think?”
Adrik makes a face. “I’m not scaring her, priest. Just having a conversation.”
“Well, Sasha doesn’t particularly look as if she’s enjoying the conversation. So move on, hm?”
Adrik bristles at that, but he glances at my pale face, and concedes. “Fine,” he grits out, moving off through the crowd, and I let out an exhale as my knees go weak for the second time tonight, but for an entirely different reason.
“Here.” Max pulls one of the barstools out a little. “Sit.” He waves to the bartender. “Can you get me a glass of water for her, please?”
“I’m fine.” I touch my forehead, shocked to find it’s a little clammy, my makeup sticky to the touch. “Really, I’m fine.”
“You looked like you were about to faint.” Max takes the glass of water and pushes it towards me. “Drink. I insist.”
I smile wanly at him, swallowing hard as I reach for the glass of water. “I’m fine, I swear. Just a little PTSD, is all.”
“Which you’re entitled to, after what you’ve been through.” Max glances towards the long buffet table, and he vanishes for a moment, only to return with a plate of various sliced meats and cheeses, accompanied by small pickles and some sort of relish. “Here. A little salt and protein ought to steady you.”
I glance at him, feeling thrown off-kilter by the change in his demeanor once again. Now that there’s no heat between us, he’s back to the friendly, caretaking Max I know so well, happy to talk to me and provide help if needed. But all it took was that hint of flirtation, and he shut down.
He really must have no interest in me at all.
But it doesn’t make sense. I’m naïve, but I’m not stupid, and I’ve spent enough time in the presence of horny men to know the signs of one feeling desire. I’ve seen the way Max’s eyes flick to my mouth, over me, despite his efforts otherwise. I know he has, in at least some moments, wanted me.
Unfortunately, I already know the answer as to why he’s trying so hard to pretend as if he doesn’t. It just—doesn’t all add up.
Does he really plan to be celibate for the rest of his life, even though he’s not a priest any longer? Even I don’t want that for myself, as traumatized by sex as I am. But as we sit there in silence, me nibbling at the food Max brought and taking small sips of water, I have to accept the idea that it might be one or the other.
I might be able to be friends with Max, or nothing at all, if I can’t keep myself from flirting with him. I might have to resign myself to the fact that whoever is in my future romantically that it won’t be him.
No matter how badly I want it to be otherwise.
“There.” Max reaches out, touching my forehead lightly, and I feel my skin warm instantly, despite my thoughts a moment ago. His fingers brush over my forehead as lightly as I’d imagined them last night, and I struggle not to suck in a breath that would make my reaction obvious. “You look like you’re feeling better.”
If I’m being honest, I’d swoon on the spot if I thought it would mean he’d keep touching me. But he moves his hand away as soon as he’s ascertained what he was trying to figure out, and my disappointment is felt instantly. “I am,” I tell him instead, sipping my water. “Thank you for helping. Maybe Adrik won’t bother me again.”
“He’d better not,” Max says, a sharp edge to his tone that makes my heart leap all over again. “I wouldn’t let him lay a finger on you, Sasha. I promise you that. And neither would Viktor.”
You’re the only one I want to protect me. For a moment, I’m almost afraid I’ve said it out loud—but even if I had, Max is already up and moving back into the crowd, leaving me there at the bar, assured that I’m safe. I’m sure he’ll be keeping one eye out to make sure neither Adrik nor anyone else approaches me like that again—but that flicker of disappointment returns.
I wanted him to stay. But it’s very clear that he wanted something else—space, specifically, from me…and likely, what I make him feel.
---
By the time the party winds down, I’m thoroughly tired and very tipsy, which Caterina makes note of as we get into the car. “So you found a favorite drink, hm?” she teases me as we ride back. I try to gamely keep up a conversation with her, not wanting to seem ungrateful after all of her efforts. Partway through the ride, though, she seems to pick up on how exhausted I am, and the conversation slows to a halt as the car winds towards home.
Once there, though, I can’t seem to sleep. I lie awake on my bed, staring at the ceiling, going over the party again and again in my head. The dress is draped over a chair, the studded sandals next to it, and I look at them with a sense of unease that I haven’t felt in a long time.
For the first time since I settled in here and found a sense of belonging, I feel it slipping away from me. I don’t fit in with these people, not really. Caterina and I have found common ground, and I get along with her friends, but at the end of the day, I don’t belong in this world. Tonight’s party just reminded me of that.
Unsettled, I get up, padding downstairs in my pajama pants and tank top. I walk through the silent, dark house, letting myself out of the glass door at the back and into the gardens. It’s pleasantly warm, the moon nearly full above me, and I walk down the cobblestone path, feeling the faint humidity in the air and breathing it in as I try to shake loose some of the bad feelings that seem to have settled over me. I round a lattice of climbing rose bushes just in time to hear a voice coming from the dim depths of the gazebo, and I stop in my tracks.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
It’s Max, of course. I’m not startled to find him out here—he lives here too, after all, but the sound of his voice so unexpectedly sends my heart fluttering in my chest.
“Yeah.” I try to sound nonchalant, hovering at the edge of the gazebo. “You?”
