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He kissed me again before pulling me into the hardness of his chest. I rested my cheek against his heart and listened to the steady beat as he ran his hand up and down my back. “I’m sorry you had to experience the darkness of what this world offers.I wish you never had to be part of that.” There was so much sincerity in his words that I felt the prickling of unshed tears in my eyes. “No one will ever hurt you. I’d never allow it,moy svet.”
I believed him. God help me but I believed him. That’s why I’d said anything about my past at all.
“What does that mean? I’ve heard you call me that a few times. Please don’t tell me it means I’m too much trouble.” I tried a teasing approach after such a heavy topic because I didn’t want to speak about the shitty past anymore. I wished I could rip all of it from my world and never have to worry about anything but enjoying this one life I had.
Arlo was silent for so long I wondered if he’d ever answer. But then he cupped my face and leaned in to kiss me almost sweetly against my lips. “It means ‘my light.’ That’s what you are to me, Galina. You’re my light in all the darkness that surrounds me.”
19
Galina
After confiding in Arlo this morning, the rest of the day had been filled with this weird energy. We worked out with more self-defense training, but the energy had just been off. Arlo seemed tense, a little distant, and it was clear he had something big on his mind. I didn't want to think it was about what I’d told him. I didn’t want to obsess and worry that I’d pushed him away with what was following me, no matter what he said or what endearments he called me.
He’d taken me back to his apartment after we finished training, where he told me to relax until dinner but that he had business to take care of and would be back later. He left with another kiss to my forehead before leaving me standing in the foyer, staring at a closed door and having the horrible feeling that I’d pushed away the first man I’d fallen for.
And I had… fallen for him.
I now stared out the window of his Mercedes, the night having fallen an hour ago, my worry still at the forefront of my mind. I glanced over at him, but he was once again hard to read.He’d closed off from me, put that wall up so it was too solid for me to get through. A part of me just wanted to cancel tonight, because whatever bond I felt we’d started to share, the intimacy that I craved, was slipping through my fingers.
The restaurant Arlo was taking me to was a short drive from his apartment and still within the heart of the wealthy district of the city. I was glad he hadn’t taken me back into my side of Desolation. He pulled to the curb, where a young man dressed in valet attire helped me out of the passenger side, and another man in the same uniform took the driver seat before pulling from the curb to park the car. Arlo placed a firm, warm hand on the small of my back and led me inside. I felt that touch through my entire body and glanced down to make sure my arousal wasn’t betraying me through my clothing in the form of hard nipples.
Fortunately I was safe for the time being.
Arlo had told me to wear something more formal for tonight, so I’d picked one of the dresses he’d gotten for me. It was a black, thick, ribbed-knit, long-sleeve dress that fell to my knees. The gray wool jacket that had been among the clothing he’d splurged on for me, and the dark tights covering my legs protected me from the chilly, nearly winter air of New York.
Vasyli’s looked like one of the many skyscrapers in this part of the city, but the brickwork and artistic flair were very much Russian. The cathedral depiction etched into the massive red double doors was so detailed you could tell whoever created it had put their heart and soul into it.
Rectangular windows were in even intervals along the front face of the building, ornate golden wrought iron covering most of the glass so you couldn’t see inside. But the metalwork was so delicate and beautiful that it was almost prettier to look at than the open sky itself.
Arlo opened the door for me, and I stepped inside, the warmth of the restaurant and the sights and smells bombarding me in the best ways. Traditional Russian music played softly overhead, and the scent of savory and sweet food filled my nose every time I inhaled.
An older gentleman came forward, his smile big and adding even more wrinkles to his face. He looked more like a grandfather than anything else, especially with his thick cable-knit cardigan over his white button-down shirt. He had a full head of white hair, his eyes so blue and light they almost seemed transparent.
The older man and Arlo started speaking Russian, but I never felt left out even though I couldn't understand them, not with Arlo’s hand still resting on the small of my back, his body pressed close to mine. After a long moment the older man turned to me and introduced himself as Akim, welcoming me to his restaurant. He kept a respectful distance, and I wondered if it was the way his gaze lowered to where Arlo’s hand rested possessively around my waist.
We were led through the restaurant, and I took in the vibrant red booths on either side of us. A row of four-seater square tables was lined in the center of the room and between the booths. There were only a few people dining, and I assumed the lateness and that it was well past a normal dinnertime was the reason. But I liked that it was more intimate. I didn’t think I’d feel as comfortable if the restaurant had been packed.
I was transfixed by the decor, at the very traditional and culturally aesthetic Russian theme. A gold Russian imperial eagle was front and center on the wall, vibrant colors splashed along the wings and spread out through the wall. A red and gold chandelier hung from the ceiling and cast an ambient, soft glow through the interior.
We were led to a booth in the back, and once at the table, the older gentleman asked me in a heavily accented voice if I cared for him to take my coat. Once it was off and hanging on the wall beside us, I slid into the booth across from Arlo. I felt nervous over this dinner date, or maybe it wasn’t the date at all but everything I’d admitted to him this morning and the fact that he’d been acting off all day.
I hadn’t realized I'd been so tense, but the fact that this was adatemade me feel anxious even when it shouldn’t, especially given all the things Arlo and I had done just the night before and the personal things I'd shared with him. But for some reason tonight felt more intimate than when he’d had his face buried between my thighs.
It was that thought, and the memory that followed, that caused a rush of all the feelings he evoked inside of me, which in turn had my body heating. I glanced up at Arlo and saw the way his eyes became hooded, as if he knew exactly where my mind had gone. Then again, my body betrayed me and how he made me feel at every turn.
And then the time flowed so seamlessly, so easily, that I let myself fall into just enjoying myself. The hours passed as we ate all the Russian foods and talked about all the wonderful things.
We didn’t order from menus in the traditional sense, but instead the chef created dishes for us, and everything I tried was delicious and totally new to me. I sampledpelmeni—flavorful Russian dumplings. Then there wasborscht—beet soup. I had a special fondness for thepirozhki, which was baked bread stuffed with meat, mushrooms, rice, and onions. This was all eaten between sips of vodka and incredible conversation with the only person who had ever made me feel comfortable. I forgot all about the weirdness that had come from Arlo all day. I forgot about all my problems and the shit that followed closely at my heels… the things I was running from.
It all felt so… normal.
By the time we had desserts—yes, plural—I was satiated and full and didn’t think I’d ever smiled as much. My cheeks hurt, and my face felt hot from the vodka and smiling. I glanced around and realized we’d been here for so long, lost in just enjoying each other’s company, that the restaurant had pretty much emptied.Meaning it was literally Arlo and me.
I leaned back in the booth and just stared at him, feeling my heart flutter strangely in my chest. I could have blamed the alcohol for the heat in me, or the way I couldn't stop blushing and grinning. But that wasn’t the truth.
I was falling for my Russian, and I didn't want to stop, not even if the ground rushed up to greet me painfully. Not even if it killed me in the end.
“Tonight was wonderful. Thank you.” His smile was slow and very satisfied. “I have never had such a great time.” It was the sad truth, but one I owned.
