Chapter 18
HOLLY
The next morning, I’m with Katya and Andrei preparing food for the expected snowstorm.
The kitchen smells of cinnamon and butter, and I'm elbow-deep in cookie dough when the first gust of wind rattles the windows.
"Storm is getting closer," Katya says from where she's rolling out pastry at the counter.
I glance toward the window and my stomach clenches. Heavy clouds press down on the mountains, and the trees are already bending under the wind's assault.
"How long until it hits?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
Andrei looks up from where he's organizing supplies in the pantry. "Weather service says a few hours. Maybe less."
A few hours.
My hands are still in the dough. I haven't seen Nikolai all morning. He skipped breakfast again, and Katya mentioned he’s been locked in his den since before sunrise, taking calls in that low, dangerous voice that makes my spine tingle even when I can't hear the words.
I knead the dough harder than necessary, trying not to think about last night. About sitting beside him at the piano. About the way his forehead pressed against mine and his thumb brushed my cheek as he told me to stay away from him.
And how badly I wanted him to kiss me.
"You are thinking too hard," Katya says, pulling me from my thoughts. "The dough, she does not need so much aggression."
"Sorry." I ease up, shaping the dough into a ball with hands that are only slightly trembling.
The wind howls again, stronger this time, and I flinch.
Katya's expression softens. "You do not like storms."
It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "No. I really don't."
I don't tell her why. Don't explain that storms make me twelve years old again, trapped in the back seat of a wrecked car while my parents lay silent in the front.
Andrei emerges from the pantry with an armful of canned goods. "We should probably head out soon, Katya. Before the weather gets worse."
"Yes, yes." She wipes her hands on her apron. "Just need to finish the pelmeni for the freezer. Then we go."
I focus on shaping cookies; anything to keep my hands busy and my mind off the approaching storm. Off the fact that in a few hours, Nikolai and I will be alone here. Trapped together while nature unleashes hell outside.
The thought sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with fear of the weather.
The kitchen door swings open, and Nikolai appears.
He looks exhausted. Dark circles shadow his eyes, and his hair is disheveled like he's been running his hands through it all morning.
His shirt is rumpled, the top buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He hasn't shaved, and the stubble along his jaw makes him look dangerous and raw, and so devastatingly handsome my breath halts.
Our eyes meet, and something electric passes between us. A current that's been building since last night, since the piano, since he touched my face and told me he really is the monster I think he is.
"The storm is moving faster than expected," he says, his voice rough. "You two need to leave. Now."
Katya's hands pause in their work. "But the pelmeni—"
"Forget the pelmeni." His tone leaves no room for argument. "The weather service just updated their forecast. This is going to be worse than they thought. Short in duration, but the winds are going to be violent. If you don't leave in the next thirty minutes, you won't make it home."
Andrei's already moving, grabbing his coat from the hook by the door. "I'll warm up the truck."
Katya looks torn between her duties and the storm bearing down on us. "But you and Holly, you need food…"
"We'll be fine. There's enough in the freezer to last us weeks. Now go." He walks over to her, puts a gentle hand on her arm, his voice softening. “Be safe, Katya.”
She nods, untying her apron with reluctant efficiency. "Okay, okay. I go."
The next ten minutes are a flurry of activity in the kitchen, while Nikolai leaves to speak with his men.
The wind is really howling now. The windows rattle in their frames, and I can hear something banging against the side of the lodge. A loose shutter, maybe. Or a branch torn free from one of the massive pines surrounding us.
"You will be okay," Katya says, pulling me into a fierce hug. "Your husband, he will keep you safe."
I nod against her shoulder, not trusting my voice.
When she pulls back, she cups my face in her warm, flour-dusted hands. "You are strong girl. Stronger than you know. Do not forget."
"I won't."
"You be a good girl, yes?" she says. "And don't give Mr. Morozov too much trouble."
"I'll try." My voice comes out smaller than intended.
Andrei joins us and pulls me into a hug. "See you after the storm, Holly."
"Stay safe," I tell him.
He hesitates, glancing around for Nikolai. When Katya collects her handbag, he moves closer, his voice dropping low.
"Listen," he says, pulling a scrap of paper from his pocket. "This is my number. If you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me, okay? I know you don't have a phone, but the kitchen phone works. Just... if something happens, if you need help..."
I take the paper, my fingers closing around it. My throat feels tight. Has he picked up on the tension between Nikolai and me?
"Thank you, Andrei."
"He's not a bad guy," Andrei says quietly. "I know he’s gruff, but he's alright."
Then he's gone, jogging through the snow toward his truck, waving one last time before climbing in.
Katya is already in the passenger seat and gives me a small wave goodbye.
Standing in the doorway, I watch their taillights disappear down the mountain road as the wind bends the trees and whips snow across the driveway.
Behind me, I hear Nikolai's voice, still speaking in Russian. Then Dmitri and Alexei are leaving too, their SUV pulling away until I'm alone in the doorway.
Until there's nothing but the sound of the wind and the crunch of Nikolai's footsteps as he comes to stand beside me.
"Come inside," he says quietly. "Before you freeze."
I look up at him. Snowflakes are caught in his dark hair, melting against his skin. His blue eyes are softer than I've ever seen them.
"They're all gone," I say, unnecessarily.
"Yes."
"It's just us now."
"Yes."
The word hangs between us.
I step back inside, and he closes the door against the storm.
The lock clicks into place.
And we're alone.