Nikolai tried on a felt hat that made him look like Indiana Jones, and then a pair of glasses that made him look like Clark Kent.
When they came to the antiques, Nikolai scanned the tables as if searching for something in particular.
“What are you looking for?” Nadia asked.
“An egg!” he said. “Did you know they found one of the lost Imperial eggs at a flea market only a couple of years ago?”
“That was in America,” Nadia said. “You’re not going to see any eggs sitting around here without anybody noticing.”
“I didn’t expect to see a Lebedev at my party, but there you were,” Nikolai said, grinning at her. “You never know what might be hiding right in front of you.”
They wandered for hours, the time flying by so quickly that Nadia couldn’t believe it when the sun began to sink low in the sky, and she realized it was far past dinner time.
She thought Nikolai would take her somewhere posh and dazzling, like the White Rabbit, but instead he drove her to a rather disreputable-looking neighborhood, to a block of flats that didn’t look like they contained so much as a cafe.
“Are you sure you’ve got the right place?” she asked.
“It’s a secret spot,” Nikolai said.
He parked the car and Nadia followed him to a flat stretch of wall that didn’t look like it contained any door at all. He found a little button, recessed into the wall, and pressed the buzzer. After a moment, a crack appeared, and a section of the wall split open to reveal a dark hallway.
“I feel like we’re about to be murdered,” Nadia muttered as she followed him inside.
“No, just you,” Nikolai whispered back, squeezing her hand to let her know he was only teasing.
Nadia heard the reassuring clink of cutlery against plates. Moments later, they entered to the strangest little dining room she’d ever seen. It looked exactly like a Soviet-era living room, down to the old bookshelves, the vases of dried flowers, and the family photographs on the walls. An ancient radio played scratchysamizdatjazz, and a boxy television set on a wooden stand showed a flickering broadcast of the Rome Olympics.
The restaurant only contained a dozen tables, closely squashed together, each one topped with a lace tablecloth and mismatched plates and silverware. When Nadia went to take her seat at the table reserved with a small placard reading “Markov,” she found a plump black kitten already occupying her seat. She lifted it up and let it sit on her lap instead.
The fare was hearty traditional Russian stews, pies, and dumplings.
Once they had ordered, Nadia tilted her head to the side, examining Nikolai’s face.
“What is it?” he said.
“You surprise me,” Nadia said.
“Do I?”
“I thought you’d be the usual kind of Bratva. Always wanting to go to the fanciest, most expensive places. To see and be seen.”
“Why did you think that?”
“That party that you threw. It seemed like you were trying to impress someone that night.”
Nikolai paused, looking surprised and a little uncomfortable.
“Were you?” Nadia pressed.
“No,” he said.
But there was something in his face that made her think he was hiding something from her.
She remembered what her aunt had said.The Markovs are liars and schemers. You’ll find out soon enough.
“Nikolai,” she said, “I thought at first you and I were just having a little fun together. But you said you wanted it to be more than that. Are you just trying to charm me, or do you mean it?”
He reached across the table and took her hand. Looking her straight in the eye he said, “I mean it more than anything. Isn’t that what you want, too? You must feel the same thing that I’m feeling. It can’t be only on my side.”
