His face was illuminated by happiness.
“Yes,” she said, smiling as well.
But the light was already fading from his face, his brows furrowing again.
“But will you love me no matter what?” he said. “No matter what I’ve...no matter what happens tonight?”
“Yes,” she promised. “Even if your dad does hate me.”
“He won’t!” Nikolai said again. “That would be impossible.”
Nadia saw that in contrast to all the fun and fanciful places that Nikolai had taken her to eat, now that they were meeting his father he had reverted to something much more traditional: a dark and formal restaurant with stiff linen tablecloths, heavy chandeliers, and plush booths with such high backs that they were completely cut off from the other diners.
Despite their having arrived ten minutes early, Zavier Markov was already seated, waiting for them. He stood as Nadia approached and stepped forward to take her hand between his. His keen eyes searched her face, so intently and for so long that she struggled not to drop her gaze.
She saw that he looked very much like Nikolai—they were almost exactly the same height, with the same dark hair and lean, chiseled faces. Of course, Zavier was not quite as handsome as Nikolai—nobody was. And his expression was much more stern. He lacked the warmth and charm of his son.
Still, he kissed Nadia on both cheeks and said, “Priyatno poznakomit’sya, Nadia.”Very nice to meet you.
“You as well,” Nadia said nervously.
“She’s very beautiful,” Zavier said to Nikolai, as they took their seats. “The Lebedevs were always known for their beauty. Did you know that, Nikolai?”
“No,” Nikolai said stiffly.
Nadia sat rigid as well, uncomfortable that Zavier was already bringing up her pedigree.
“That’s all water under the bridge now though, isn’t it?” Zavier said to Nadia. “Forgive and forget.”
“Of course,” Nadia said.
Zavier stared at her intently, his hands folded neatly in front of him on the tabletop, but his knuckles white with tension.
“You and Nikolai together—it will right all the old wrongs,” he said.
“Yes,” Nadia agreed hesitantly.
She had the uncomfortable feeling that there was a subtext to their conversation that she could not possibly understand, as ignorant as she was to their families’ histories. She wasn’t certain exactly what she was agreeing to.
Luckily, the conversation soon shifted to simpler things: Zavier’s art collection, the Markov’s business holdings, their connections in the city. It was strange, because it almost seemed like Zavier was trying to impress her. She had expected to be the one who had to prove herself to him.
“We have a beautiful country house in Tula,” Zavier was saying. “You should take Nadia there, Nikolai.”
“I intend to,” Nikolai said.
Unlike Nadia, Nikolai had not relaxed as the evening progressed. If anything, he seemed even more tense than he had been to begin with.
“And of course, Nadia will be coming to the Bolshoi gala next week, won’t she?” Zavier said.
Nadia looked between the two men in mild confusion. Nikolai hadn’t mentioned anything about a gala.
“Would you like to come?” Nikolai muttered without quite meeting her eye.
“Of course,” Nadia said. She’d be happy to go to any kind of party with Nikolai.
“Wonderful,” Zavier said, smiling at her. “Now, Nadia, you have to try the honey cake. They keep the hives out in the clover fields and the honey is, to my mind, much sweeter than orange blossom.”
On the drive home, Nikolai kept his eyes on the road, his jaw set and his face looking drained.
