She doesn't correct me or say no this time, and I feel something shift inside my chest. It feels sickening, like I'm winning something I'm ashamed to have competed for but desperately want anyway. I lean down and kiss her softly, and she returns the kiss.
"Would you like to walk?" I ask. "The lake is beautiful at sunset."
Zoya nods, and we make our way outside and down the gravel path that circles the water. The sun hangs low in the sky, painting everything gold and orange. She walks beside me, close enough that our arms brush occasionally.
"It's peaceful here," she says.
"It's the only place I can think clearly. The only place that feels real."
"And the rest of it? Your life in the city?"
"Necessary. But not real. Not like this."
I let my hand brush her hip as we walk. She doesn't move away. "I want to build a life with you, Zoya. Not just an arrangement. Not just a convenience. I want to wake up next to you every morning and know that you're mine."
She stops walking and turns to face me. "What if I can't be what you need?"
"You already are."
I move closer, close enough to see the apprehension in her eyes. "I want to kiss you."
She looks up at me, her lips parted. I lean down, and she moves to meet me halfway. But at the last moment, she pulls back, her face suddenly pale.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I feel… I need to…"
She turns and walks quickly back toward the house. I follow, concerned. "Zoya, are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Just dizzy. Too much wine, maybe."
She disappears into the bathroom. I hear water running, the sound of her being sick. When she emerges, she's pale but composed.
"I'm sorry," she says again. "I should probably go home."
"Of course," I tell her, but I feel saddened that this is how the evening is ending.
I drive her back to the city in comfortable silence. She leans her head against the window and closes her eyes. I want to touch her, to comfort her, but I sense she needs space.
When I drop her off at her apartment, she turns to me before getting out.
"Thank you," she says. "For today. For telling me about your childhood."
"Thank you for listening."
She disappears into her building. I sit in my car for a moment, thinking about the way she looked at me when I mentioned the announcement. The way she didn't say no.
I pull out my phone and send a message to Rolan.
Maksim 9:12 PM: Plan is working. She's almost ready.
His response comes quickly.
Rolan 9:13PM: Good. Don't rush it.
I sit staring at my phone for a few moments, thinking. The announcement will force Damir's hand. It will also lock Zoya to me in ways that go beyond physical attraction.
But as I replay the evening in my mind, I realize that somewhere between strategy and execution, the lines have blurred. The way she looked at me when I talked about building a life together. The way she didn't pull away when I touched her hand.
I tell myself it's all part of the plan. But late at night, alone in my bedroom, I'm not entirely sure I believe it anymore.
