48. Ofelia #3
“But then I saw Benny.” He frowns. “And I realized that whatever I might feel right now pales against what he’s facing.
Lars is the love of his fucking life.” His mouth tightens.
“And I’m pretty sure Benny is the love of Lars’s life too,” he says quietly.
“Even if that wasn’t always the case.” He glances sideways at me, and this time I do slide my hand over his.
“I think you’re right.” I kiss his cheek softly. “And I can’t imagine how hard it must be for Benny, facing a future where love is taken away before it even begins.”
Alexei covers my hand with his other one. “Yes, you can,” he says quietly. “We can both imagine that, only too well. Which is exactly why I don’t want to waste another moment—and why I know Lars would feel the same way.”
“Okay, then.” I nod slowly as we hear Darya and Masha coming out with the food. “So one week it is, then?”
He nods. “But there’s one more thing we need to discuss. And if it’s okay, I want to wait until Darya is here.”
“Sure.”
I light the candles on the table and help bring the rest of the meal out. We pour wine, and Masha mixes soda with hers, screwing up her face when she tastes it.
“Prefiero tinto de verano,” she announces disdainfully. “This, it is too harsh for me.”
“Wine preferences already?” Alexei grins. “Only a trueborn Spaniard.”
“Si, claro.” Masha lifts her shoulder, not bothering to deny it. “Soy una chica espanola.”
“Yes, you are, darling.” Darya, laughing, kisses her head. “A true Spanish girl, indeed.”
We eat companionably. “Savor the peace,” Darya tells me dryly. “For very soon, chaos will descend.”
“Speaking of chaos.” Alexei sits back, eyeing his sister speculatively. “We’ve all had a lot of it over the years.”
Her head snaps up, her eyes narrowing. She’s clearly nervous about what he’s about to say. “This probably isn’t the time, Alexei—”
“Relax, Dar.” He gives her a reassuring smile. “I’m not about to go sharing chaos stories. But I do have a question. I’ve already spoken to Papa, and he’s given his consent, but I wanted to talk to you.”
Looking rather taken aback, she nods.
Alexei nudges Masha, who of course is sitting beside him. “And I know how much you hate secrets, myshka,” he says gently. “So I thought you should hear this, too.”
Masha nods like she’s granting him a favor. “Gracias,” she says solemnly.
“After Miami, the name Alexei Petrovsky has a lot of targets on it, from law enforcement to a variety of criminal organizations. I’m going to need to change my name.”
That makes me look at him, too.
“Thing is,” he goes on, “since Ofelia and I are about to get married, I’d rather not have her take a name that doesn’t mean anything to either of us.
The other side of the coin, of course, is that Petrovsky was never our family name anyway, just the one that happened to be on the false documents Papa used when he came to America. ”
Darya’s eyes widen. “Oh,” she says softly.
I give Alexei a quizzical look.
He takes my hand. “I want to take my original family name,” he says quietly. “If you agree.”
My heartbeat slows. “Naryshkin?” I barely breathe the word.
His face clouds in concern. “If you don’t want it—if it carries too much of the past—say so, and we’ll forget it.”
“No.” I shake my head slowly, turning the name over in my mind.
“That name is the best of the past we both share. It’s the legacy your family and mine fought for.
” I touch the pendant at my neck, then the ring on my finger.
“And it’s the future we chose.” I meet his eye.
“I love it,” I say quietly, happiness rising inside me.
“I absolutely love it. It feels like . . . family.”
He nods slowly, his face breaking into a relieved smile. “That’s how I hoped it would feel. And it’s what I want.”
Masha peers around him, her eyes dancing with mischief. “You know what the best thing about that is, ’Felia?”
“What, myshka?”
She gives a gurgle of laughter. “Deda Sergei told us once that his father was a count. Doesn’t that mean that one day Alexei will inherit his title—and you’ll be Countess Naryshkin?”
“Oh, my goodness.” Darya sits back, her eyes brimming with laughter. “Technically she’s right, you know. Not that those old titles exist anymore, or matter to anyone these days.”
I roll my eyes. “I can’t see myself asking anyone to start addressing me as my lady.”
“Quizas no.” Masha’s eyes sparkle. “But it would make a spectacular stage name, no?”
That makes us all laugh, and even Masha drinks her wine when Darya makes a toast.
Undercover of their chatter, Alexei leans close to me. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Because one word from you, and we can choose something else.”
I smile at him, all the happiness I feel welling to the surface, and kiss him gently on the lips. “It’s perfect,” I say quietly. “Like we’ve taken all the darkness of that basement and turned it into our future.”
Alexei’s eye turns a wicked shade of blue. “Oh, angel,” he says, starting to laugh. “You have no idea how right you are about that.”