Chapter 41
LEV
Things are different now.
While I still don’t sit inside her lecture halls, she kisses me before and after each class.
If there’s time between them, instead of giving her space, we stick together.
She’ll study, and I’ll glare at anyone who looks her way.
When she’s not working, we pass the time talking.
She asks about my childhood, growing up with a twin, my induction into the Bratva, and sometimes about my prison trips.
No person on Earth knows so much about me, not even Anastasia. Ana may be blood, but there’s plenty that’s been hidden from her; I’ve never felt completely willing to open up. Vanessa knows about some of my time in prison but little about my childhood, and mutual respect keeps it that way.
Serafina accepts everything I am, and it’s daunting.
Which is why, as I dress for Anastasia’s show, my fingers feel colder than normal, and it takes me three attempts to properly do up my tie.
Nerves, I think.
I’ve never taken a woman on a date. It’d mean getting close enough to one to deal with her for hours, making small talk meant to learn about her when I couldn’t be bothered.
Never saw the point in dating when I already knew there’d be no one interesting enough to get into a long-term relationship with.
The thought of this outing is everything I despise and already has my mind going haywire. People, dressing up, noise—it could very well kill me, if not for the woman getting ready next door.
For her, this is worth it.
We’re about ten minutes from the time I gave her. We’re arriving before the show because Anastasia suggested a backstage tour. She’s already at the centre, having gone hours prior like she does for every show, so it’ll only be us in the car.
Once ready, I slide my cell into the inner pocket of my suit jacket and head downstairs to bring my car around to the front.
Vanessa lingers in the foyer when I return. “I checked in a few minutes ago. She’s nearly ready.” If only she accepted my indifferent nod instead of twisting and inspecting me with the same effort she does traitors. “How is she actually doing? You see her more than anyone else.”
“She seems to be enjoying school.”
She stares another beat before smiling and jerking her chin. “You should clean up more often.”
“Meanwhile, I’m already dreaming of getting out of this suit.” And hopefully tossing it beside Fina’s dress.
“I wouldn’t expect anything else.” She shakes her head. “Make sure she has fun. I should have had Ana set me aside a ticket too. Stupid meetings. But we need to find Dimitri.”
It feels wrong to be going out to a show and not scouring for him, but Vanessa pushed me away from the computer earlier and said it was important.
Dimitri’s capable, but his disappearance can’t change the fact that Anastasia’s show has been booked in for months and there’s a woman in this house anticipating it.
“Next time.” Thank fuck, she isn’t coming. Pretending Serafina hasn’t consumed my every waking thought now is impossible enough. I couldn’t imagine being forced to play professional with my Pakhan in attendance.
Noise from the top of the stairs draws our attention. Vanessa grins, and it’s her I focus on rather than the woman descending the steps. I’m not entirely sure how practiced I am at keeping my emotions in control with Serafina.
Serafina in a dress she’s been hiding from me since her shopping trip with Vanessa. Unable to keep from staring at the sun for too long, my gaze climbs the staircase.
If it’s possible to choke and die on one’s saliva, my body certainly attempts it.
Serafina’s encased in a deep red dress that brushes an inch above her knees.
It’s high on her chest, the collar wrapping her neck while keeping her shoulders bare.
Her hair’s been left down in loose waves that flounce with her movements, blocking her face from me, as she’s watching her step to avoid falling in her black heels.
A blush seeps through the strands, almost as red as the dress.
There’s zero reason for her to be nervous when she looks every bit a Cosa Nostra princess.
She may have grown up a regular girl, but the Mancini manners were engrained into her, whether everyone likes it or not.
This is how she was always meant to look.
Moya printessa.
As she reaches the ground floor, it’s the thought of dead bodies and blocked firewalls that prevent me from appearing affected.
In front of Vanessa, who’s now watching me, I feign a look of friendship and nothing more, which happens to be the cruellest torment as disappointment flashes through the eyes I dream about.
“You look nice.” Nice seems safe, something brotherly and appropriate. The tapping against my leg ceases—an action I didn’t realize, for once, I was doing.
“Thanks.”
I open the door, and Vanessa murmurs something to her. As Serafina heads out, the span of her naked back does its hardest to stop my beating heart. She’s all smooth skin I’ve spent days caressing, skin I know to be sensitive when licked, shining beautifully when on her hands and knees.
“Keep her safe,” is Vanessa’s parting comment.
After ushering Serafina inside the vehicle, I take my own seat, biting my tongue until we’re well away from the mansion and far from Vanessa.
“You’re gorgeous.” If only I was better with words, I’d have more to compliment her with. Something worthier.
“I had help picking the dress, so I can’t take all the credit.”
“It’s all you, Fina. You above all, but the dress—you in it—will be the ultimate test of self-control. If I get through tonight without killing anyone, we’ve succeeded.” Because people will look, and there has never been anything or anyone I’ve wanted to protect from others’ gazes more than her.
She beams; only Serafina would see my death threats as a compliment. “With your sister nearby, you’re still only playing my chaperone?”
“Unfortunately.” My hands clutch the steering wheel tighter. She deserves someone who can show her affection in public, not something forbidden. “Nonetheless, I’m happy we’re doing this.”
Serafina falls silent for the remainder of the drive, staring out the window as we enter the busier parts of Moscow.
Being evening, streetlights are aglow, and the city comes alive in new ways.
Once at the concert hall, I drive around the back to the staff lot and take the spot beside Anastasia’s car, gesturing for Serafina to remain seated.
I may not understand dating well, but Serafina is a printessa, and by fucking god, she will be treated as such. Which is why I open her door and offer my hand to help her out, not stepping aside when she’s on her feet.
Instead, I back her into the car and tell her with my mouth what I truly think about her in this godforsaken dress. I’d never believed in religion until this moment, but she’s become my deity.
“I changed my mind,” she whispers against my mouth. “Let’s go home.”
“You’re too pretty to not show off.” My hand trails her spine, pausing where the dress meets the curve of her ass.
It’s there my finger taps once, twice, then once again, the significance clear to us both.
“Every single time I’ve lost restraint, it’s been around you or for you. Let’s see how I get through tonight.”
She arches into me, nails hooking into my suit’s collar. “You look really good. Handsome.”
The tight-ass collar strangles me. “There’s only one woman I’d dress up for.” You own me in ways you don’t even realize.
Before she can say more and send me into whatever tailspin of panic my brain deems necessary, I tug her towards the back door and rap my knuckles. A stagehand placed there by Ana to wait for us ushers us inside.
“Mr. Petrov, come in. I’ll inform Miss Petrov you and your guest have arrived.” He rushes down the hallway lined with crates, lighting equipment, and clothing racks. It’s messy and chaotic, and the sight makes me wince.
A few seconds later, Anastasia pokes her head out of her dressing room down the hallway and makes an excited noise.
She steps into the hall, wearing a silky black robe that falls to mid-thigh because she never gets completely ready until minutes before her show.
She pulls Serafina into a hug, forcing me to reluctantly release the only thing keeping me grounded.
“You look absolutely beautiful, Sera. Doesn’t she look good, Lev?” My sister finds me close behind and winks, sending a chill through me. She suspects, but neither of us will say a word about my relationship until the other does—so never.
“As I’ve already told Miss Mancini, yes, she looks nice.”
Anastasia scoffs, throwing her arm around Serafina.
“Nice. Whatever. Men, right?” Serafina’s responding giggle eases the growing chaos in my brain.
Just being inside this building makes everything hurt more; I’m aware of what’s to come, but I focus on her.
The sound of her voice, the look of her in that dress.
My sister directs Serafina down the hall and starts pointing things out. I trail behind, focusing on counting our steps, inhaling peach and vanilla and tapping my thigh.
Serafina glances over her shoulder and gives me a blinding smile.
All of this is worth seeing her do that.