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Yes, she may not have his number but his mouth was familiar now, the way he led their kiss, the feeling that nothing and no one could reach them. His hands felt like silk, wrapping them tighter in the delicious cocoon they made.
‘Not here,’ he said, which was contrary to his actions, for his hand was pulling at the hem of her dress while at the same time pulling her in.
‘Yes, here...’ she breathed, disengaging her hand from around his neck and moving it down to between them, feeling the hard outline of him and running her palm over the swollen tip.
Yes, here, Daniil thought, for he was back in his old bedroom but he felt different this time, and his kiss was rough now, leading her to the bed. But suddenly there was a knock at the door and without waiting for a response it was opened.
Now she understood why he loathed people knocking at the door so much—it meant nothing, because, completely uninvited, in walked his father. Libby jumped back, embarrassed and shocked, ridiculously grateful that Daniil held one of her hands as the other smoothed her dress.
‘Se’bis,’ Daniil said.
‘Se’bis,’ Richard said, and a very flushed Libby frowned at the slight smirk on Daniil’s face at his father’s response. ‘I’ve just been speaking with your mother about your speech,’ Richard said. Daniil released Libby from his arms and she stood there, breathless, embarrassed and very, very angry at the intrusion, but she tried not to show it as Richard spoke on.
‘I thought I might just take a quick look through it,’ Richard said, but Daniil shook his head.
‘There is no need for that.’
But his father was insistent. ‘I just want to check that you’ve covered all bases.’
‘I have.’ Daniil refused to give in to him.
‘Your mother’s worried, Daniel. She’s under a lot of stress about tonight and isn’t feeling well.’ His hand moved to his chest and Libby thought the gesture was clearly meant to provoke a reaction.
‘If she has chest pain then call an ambulance.’ Daniil’s response was calm and measured, unlike Richard’s, whose hand balled in frustration as his son remained unmoved. ‘Anyway—’ Daniil shrugged ‘—there’s nothing for you to see. I have my speech prepared here.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘Now, if you will please excuse us, Libby and I would like to get ready. We’ll be downstairs shortly.’
‘Very well,’ Richard said, but at the door he turned. Clearly, Libby thought, his father had to have the last word. ‘But, Daniel, when you do come down, can you please lose the accent?’
They didn’t get back to their kiss. Libby put on some make-up and tried to make sense of what she had just heard. It wasn’t just an accent. Daniil’s voice was one of the many beautiful things about him, and the thought they would censor that had tears sparkling in her eyes, which wasn’t ideal when you were trying to put on eyeliner.
She simply didn’t know what to say.
At first.
‘Tupa shmara,’ Libby hissed, and Daniil smiled.
‘Nice try, wrong gender,’ he said.
‘Well, if we’re having a Russian lesson, what does se’bis mean?’ she asked, remembering the slight smirk when Daniil had greeted his father. Daniil laughed as he realised that Libby was far more perceptive than most.
‘It means get out,’ Daniil said. ‘They always assumed I was saying it as a greeting when they came into my room. Soon enough they started to say it back to me! I took my victories where I could get them.’
‘Ah, you can take the boy out of Russia...’ Libby said, and even as they smiled, there was sadness there, for that, she realised, was exactly what his parents had done—they hadn’t just taken him from his home, they had tried to erase his past, too.
‘Your ambulance trips...’ Libby said, and Daniil nodded.
‘She would get chest pain or faint or whatever any time that she didn’t get her way. It was always my fault, of course, but we had a lesson at school when I was fourteen about emergencies and first aid. The next time she collapsed I called an ambulance...’
‘And?’
‘I did the same the next time then the next time and the next...’
Libby looked into his cold grey eyes and could well picture him standing calm and detached as chaos surrounded him, but it didn’t unsettle her. She knew, or was almost sure of, the warmth behind that guarded gaze.
‘I can’t be manipulated, Libby. Tears don’t move me. Neither does drama.’
