Page 29 of A Spy is Born
The crowd parts for us as Vladimir steers me through it. We pass a mirrored wall, and I catch a glimpse of us—it's practically beauty and the beast. His chest is so broad, his brow so low, his hands so large…I look tiny and fragile next to him.
I resist the urge to pull the cloak of royalty around myself, to puff myself up, to spread my feathers and show how strong I really am. In this moment it is best to play the part of the scullery maid who has arrived at the ball in a borrowed gown.
The bar has a line, but it wilts away as Vladimir steps up to the polished wood. "What would you like?" he asks me.
"Something fizzy," I say. "Shall we both have champagne? So we can have a true toast."
His eyes light up, and he leans over, creating a more intimate space between us. "In my country, we toast with vodka."
I giggle, dipping my chin then bringing just my eyes up to meet him, my lashes creating a film of lace between us. "I can't drink vodka and be sure not to make a fool of myself." He laughs, those big shoulders shaking. "Please," I say, "let's have champagne."
"Whatever you like, anything." He turns to the bartender and orders two flutes of champagne. They appear quickly.
We clink the edges of our glasses together. "To new friendships," I say.
"Yes," he says, a throatiness in his voice that makes it clear friendship is not his intention.
We sip from the glasses, and I stare at the bubbles in his. How am I going to get my ring over it?Wait…he's still drinking. Oh…he's finishing. Crap on toast. That so didn’t work.
He puts the glass on the bar, and it is immediately filled again. He orders one for me as well, but I've barely wet my lips. "You're a faster drinker than me," I say, bringing a blush to my cheeks, as if I'm embarrassed at my failing.
His jaw loosens and quickly tightens.He does not want to upset me."I'm sorry," he says.
"You don't need to apologize." I reach out, placing my hand on his forearm, the ring very white against his black jacket.
He looks down at the hand, and it takes every class I ever took, every moment I practiced in front of the mirror…every acting skill I've garnered from anywhere, not to pull the hand back. Not to give away the danger that slim-fingered, simply adorned hand poses to him.
He covers my hand with his, completely hiding it. "You're perfect," he says, his voice low, accent thick. I swallow the hum of real emotion that wants to rise at his words. You don't know me. We are strangers. Perfection does not exist.
"That's sweet," I say. "You're very kind."
His eyes implore me to believe him—he may be powerful enough to make any words he says into truth.Am I powerful enough to take him down?
Temperance thinks I am. Sing gave me the weapon; all I have to do is slip it into this man's drink.No, not sporting.
“Have you ever been to Moscow?” he asks me, changing the subject.
“No,” I shake my head. “But I’d love to some time. It seems like a fascinating place. Is that where you live?”
“One of the places. But I will be spending more time in America soon.”
“Really, why’s that?” I ask, sipping my drink.
“Business. With the election. Things will change. Reginald Grand is a good man. He sees the possibilities that bringing our two nations closer together can provide.”
“I’m not really into politics,” I say.
His eyes glitter. “A pretty thing like you doesn’t need to be.”
I force my face to stay open and happy.I’m not into politics because they are out of my control and paying attention doesn’t do me any good.It’s not like I don’t vote. I just don’t spend my life worrying about what those a-holes in Washington are doing. Of course, with how things have suddenly changed in my life, I probably should start to pay attention…
“I understand that you like to read,” Vladimir says, changing the subject again.
“Love it,” I answer, smiling.
“You like spy novels, yes?” Truth is, I’m more a paranormal kind of gal, but I nod and smile—I’ve been telling reporters I love spy fiction. After all, the film I’m promoting is a spy novel adaptation. “Have you readThe Twentieth of January?” He asks.
“No, is it good?”
