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Based on the tension in his shoulders as we dine, I don’t think Efrem’s ever eaten with the Veles family before. He looks apprehensive to be eating with us when he’s supposed to be on guard duty.
But I’m with Silvia. I don’t see how it could be a problem when he would be in the same room with us regardless—and he’s more than capable of keeping us safe even if he’s eating. Not to mention, we’re out in the middle of the forest, and no one but Pyotr knows we’re here.
So far, we’ve made it all the way to dessert without assassins flying through the windows, so I’ll take that as a good sign.
The chocolate mousse with fresh strawberries and cream is divine. Isla’s managed to make a mess of it in just minutes, turning the sugary treat into something of a finger painting itself.
“I never knew you had such a talent for art, Efrem,” Silvia teases, trying to put him at ease as she wipes off her daughter’s chocolate-coated fingers. She glances up to smile at him. “You could have been a finger painter.”
Efrem’s lips twitch with amusement, though the tension in his shoulders remains. “Perhaps I ought to consider a career change,” he jokes.
It’s so far from reality that a laugh slips from me before I can stop it.
Efrem was made to protect people. He’s walked that walk every day of his life, from protecting his mother and brothers from an abusive drunk of a father to guarding Pyotr and his family from their enemies. I couldn’t imagine him as a painter, all six foot three inches of solid steel standing in front of an easel, capturing some idyllic landscape.
“You don’t think he would make a good artist?” Silvia asks, raising her eyebrows at me in mock astonishment.
“I think you give me too much credit,” Efrem states, and his eyes shift to Isla, his expression softening. “I was only following orders. Isla is the creative genius.”
“Mama, what’s a jean-us?” she asks, looking up at Silvia.
“Someone very smart,” she says, brushing her daughter’s hair from her forehead with gentle fingers.
Isla positively glows, her smile radiant as she looks at Efrem again. He’s a natural, winning her over without even trying. And the smear of chocolate mousse at the corner of her mouth only makes the picture more endearing.
“Do you have everything you need for the night?” Silvia looks at me as she shifts topics.
“Yes, I’m all settled in. Thanks.”
“Great. Then I think it’s time to get this chocolate monster washed up and put to bed,” she says, tickling her way across Isla’s belly.
The little girl giggles with delight, squirming in her chair to escape. Scooping Isla out of her booster chair, Silvia settles her on a cocked hip.
“See you in the morning,” I say.
“Absolutely. Can you tell Dani and Efrem good night?” Silvia prompts, looking at her daughter.
“Good night!” Isla shouts, then tucks her head beneath her mother’s chin, suddenly shy.
Efrem rises from his chair, his dessert forgotten as he prepares to follow them.
“Stay,” Silvia insists, turning to stop Efrem with her authoritative gaze. “Enjoy your dessert. We’ll be just down the hall.”
The discomfort on his face makes me wonder if he might not argue. But after a moment, he slowly settles back into his chair. Only then does Silvia flash us a smile before departing. His eyes follow them from the room before shifting to me.
“You alright?” I ask, glad to finally be able to speak openly with him.
I haven’t wanted to ask in front of Silvia. She got so upset from overhearing his and Pyotr’s discussion this morning. But I’m worried about what’s happening in town that has Efrem wound so tight. It can’t be good. Efrem’s almost always calm, collected, and at ease, even though his job is full of danger and risk.
“Yes,” he says, his blue eyes finding mine and making my heart flutter.
“Are we in danger?” I press, trying to understand his underlying stress.
“I do not think so,” he concedes, but his brows furrow, and he turns his attention to the dessert before him taking several bites before pushing it away.
“You’re worried about Pyotr,” I observe.
“I should be there with him. It is my duty to protect him.”
