Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Galina

A fter confiding in Arlo this morning, the rest of the day had been filled with this weird energy. We worked out with more self-defense training, but the energy had just been off. Arlo seemed tense, a little distant, and it was clear he had something big on his mind. I didn't want to think it was about what I'd told him. I didn't want to obsess and worry that I'd pushed him away with what was following me, no matter what he said or what endearments he called me.

He'd taken me back to his apartment after we finished training, where he told me to relax until dinner but that he had business to take care of and would be back later. He left with another kiss to my forehead before leaving me standing in the foyer, staring at a closed door and having the horrible feeling that I'd pushed away the first man I'd fallen for.

And I had… fallen for him.

I now stared out the window of his Mercedes, the night having fallen an hour ago, my worry still at the forefront of my mind. I glanced over at him, but he was once again hard to read. He'd closed off from me, put that wall up so it was too solid for me to get through. A part of me just wanted to cancel tonight, because whatever bond I felt we'd started to share, the intimacy that I craved, was slipping through my fingers.

The restaurant Arlo was taking me to was a short drive from his apartment and still within the heart of the wealthy district of the city. I was glad he hadn't taken me back into my side of Desolation. He pulled to the curb, where a young man dressed in valet attire helped me out of the passenger side, and another man in the same uniform took the driver seat before pulling from the curb to park the car. Arlo placed a firm, warm hand on the small of my back and led me inside. I felt that touch through my entire body and glanced down to make sure my arousal wasn't betraying me through my clothing in the form of hard nipples.

Fortunately I was safe for the time being.

Arlo had told me to wear something more formal for tonight, so I'd picked one of the dresses he'd gotten for me. It was a black, thick, ribbed-knit, long-sleeve dress that fell to my knees. The gray wool jacket that had been among the clothing he'd splurged on for me, and the dark tights covering my legs protected me from the chilly, nearly winter air of New York.

Vasyli's looked like one of the many skyscrapers in this part of the city, but the brickwork and artistic flair were very much Russian. The cathedral depiction etched into the massive red double doors was so detailed you could tell whoever created it had put their heart and soul into it.

Rectangular windows were in even intervals along the front face of the building, ornate golden wrought iron covering most of the glass so you couldn't see inside. But the metalwork was so delicate and beautiful that it was almost prettier to look at than the open sky itself.

Arlo opened the door for me, and I stepped inside, the warmth of the restaurant and the sights and smells bombarding me in the best ways. Traditional Russian music played softly overhead, and the scent of savory and sweet food filled my nose every time I inhaled.

An older gentleman came forward, his smile big and adding even more wrinkles to his face. He looked more like a grandfather than anything else, especially with his thick cable-knit cardigan over his white button-down shirt. He had a full head of white hair, his eyes so blue and light they almost seemed transparent.

The older man and Arlo started speaking Russian, but I never felt left out even though I couldn't understand them, not with Arlo's hand still resting on the small of my back, his body pressed close to mine. After a long moment the older man turned to me and introduced himself as Akim, welcoming me to his restaurant. He kept a respectful distance, and I wondered if it was the way his gaze lowered to where Arlo's hand rested possessively around my waist.

We were led through the restaurant, and I took in the vibrant red booths on either side of us. A row of four-seater square tables was lined in the center of the room and between the booths. There were only a few people dining, and I assumed the lateness and that it was well past a normal dinnertime was the reason. But I liked that it was more intimate. I didn't think I'd feel as comfortable if the restaurant had been packed.

I was transfixed by the decor, at the very traditional and culturally aesthetic Russian theme. A gold Russian imperial eagle was front and center on the wall, vibrant colors splashed along the wings and spread out through the wall. A red and gold chandelier hung from the ceiling and cast an ambient, soft glow through the interior.

We were led to a booth in the back, and once at the table, the older gentleman asked me in a heavily accented voice if I cared for him to take my coat. Once it was off and hanging on the wall beside us, I slid into the booth across from Arlo. I felt nervous over this dinner date, or maybe it wasn't the date at all but everything I'd admitted to him this morning and the fact that he'd been acting off all day.

I hadn't realized I'd been so tense, but the fact that this was a date made me feel anxious even when it shouldn't, especially given all the things Arlo and I had done just the night before and the personal things I'd shared with him. But for some reason tonight felt more intimate than when he'd had his face buried between my thighs.

It was that thought, and the memory that followed, that caused a rush of all the feelings he evoked inside of me, which in turn had my body heating. I glanced up at Arlo and saw the way his eyes became hooded, as if he knew exactly where my mind had gone. Then again, my body betrayed me and how he made me feel at every turn.

And then the time flowed so seamlessly, so easily, that I let myself fall into just enjoying myself. The hours passed as we ate all the Russian foods and talked about all the wonderful things.

We didn't order from menus in the traditional sense, but instead the chef created dishes for us, and everything I tried was delicious and totally new to me. I sampled pelmeni —flavorful Russian dumplings. Then there was borscht —beet soup. I had a special fondness for the pirozhki , which was baked bread stuffed with meat, mushrooms, rice, and onions. This was all eaten between sips of vodka and incredible conversation with the only person who had ever made me feel comfortable. I forgot all about the weirdness that had come from Arlo all day. I forgot about all my problems and the shit that followed closely at my heels… the things I was running from.

It all felt so… normal.

By the time we had desserts—yes, plural—I was satiated and full and didn't think I'd ever smiled as much. My cheeks hurt, and my face felt hot from the vodka and smiling. I glanced around and realized we'd been here for so long, lost in just enjoying each other's company, that the restaurant had pretty much emptied. Meaning it was literally Arlo and me.

I leaned back in the booth and just stared at him, feeling my heart flutter strangely in my chest. I could have blamed the alcohol for the heat in me, or the way I couldn't stop blushing and grinning. But that wasn't the truth.

I was falling for my Russian, and I didn't want to stop, not even if the ground rushed up to greet me painfully. Not even if it killed me in the end.

"Tonight was wonderful. Thank you." His smile was slow and very satisfied. "I have never had such a great time." It was the sad truth, but one I owned.

"I'll have to make sure you experience so many wonderful times that it'll take away all the bad ones."

My throat tightened with emotions I didn't—shouldn't—think too hard on.

I didn't know what to say, but even if I found words to convey how he made me feel, the sound of the front door opening and the gust of chilled air rushing into the restaurant that made its way to our table would've cut me off.

I lazily glanced toward it, wondering who was coming to eat so late. It had to be going on midnight by now. My heart lodged in my throat, and I straightened, sensing Arlo taking full attention of my sudden shift in demeanor.

I glanced over at him to see this hardness come into his eyes as he glanced at who'd just entered. Leonid.

He had two barely legal women on either side of him, and when he noticed us, my breathing became shallow. It was the familiar dread I felt when I knew I was in the company of someone truly evil. His cold, dead eyes slid over to me, and he grinned slowly. I'd barely had any interaction with this man, only the small "interview" we'd done before I waitressed at his bar. But as I looked into the visage of evil itself, I knew without a doubt Arlo had been right.

This man was bad and dark to his very soul, and he'd do anything to get his way.

The next few minutes happened in slow motion. I could see the way Arlo's entire body grew taut when Leonid walked past our table, but his expression was surprisingly stoic, as if he was masking his true feelings even if his body reacted on its own. Leonid only gave Arlo a moment's glance before his focus was right back on me. I didn't miss how he curled his hands around the women's waists even harder, so hard I didn't miss the slight winces that covered their perfectly made-up faces.

The way he raked his gaze up and down my body made me feel dirty, like a barrel of oil had been spilled on me and I'd never get it off. My skin felt itchy, prickly, the urge to scratch, to tear it off almost too strong to ignore. And just before he walked out of our sight, he winked at me as if it was a promise of what was to come.

"I think I want to go now," I said softly as soon as we were alone again.

Arlo said nothing as he paid our bill and helped me into my coat before leading me outside. His big palm was warm and steady against the small of my back. Once I was seated in the passenger seat, he crouched on his haunches, surprising me. His hand on my thigh was hot and heavy, and it gave me the sense of being safe. Because I knew these hands had killed so many.

"Do you kill people for a living?" I whispered the words, not sure why I was asking him that right here and now. But they spilled from me like a wound opening up and bleeding out.

Arlo didn't speak for so long I was afraid I'd ruined the night, that he'd never answer. Things had been so off today after confiding in him; then they felt right again during dinner, as if whatever he'd been thinking had drifted away and he was able to relax.

"I think you already know the answer to that," came his reply.

I nodded slowly. Yes, I did know the answer, and it didn't send fear through me, didn't have me looking at him in a different light. "And you'll kill someone who means to hurt me." I didn't phrase it as a question because I knew he'd killed the drunk for me, to keep me safe, to make sure it never happened again. So I knew the answer already, yet I wanted him to verify, to tell me again… to show me I was as twisted as he was, because I wanted that confirmation.

He stroked my cheek so softly, so gently that it went against the very makeup of who he was, of who I saw him to be on the outside. A part of me knew this man was good—not inherently, not down to his soul, yet he was gentle to me, kind even. He treated me better than anyone else ever had.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you again." Back and forth, his thumb on my cheek was lulling.

Long moments we just stayed there, this strange, comfortable sensation filling me. It was as if this was where I had always been meant to be.

"I forgot something inside. I'll be right back." His voice sounded off, too low and calm… too restrained. He handed me the keys to the car. "Start it and stay warm. Keep the doors locked, although no one will bother you." He said it with such certainty and conviction I couldn't help but believe him.

He looked at me for a long second and then reached out to cup my face. I instinctively leaned into his touch and let my eyes close.

"Everything will be okay." I opened my eyes, not sure what he was talking about, because so much was not okay. "I'll make sure of it." His stare was hard. "You believe me?"

I was nodding before I even realized I'd done the act. My body already knew without a doubt this man's word was true. He leaned in and kissed me passionately, fully. He ruined me in the best of ways. And when he broke the kiss and stood, shutting the door and looking through the tinted glass as if he saw right into my soul, I knew it all so clearly my breath shuddered out of me.

I'd always be safe with him, and that should have terrified me, because it just meant Arlo was even more dangerous than the monsters that were after me.