Page 25 of Crimson

“What?” Nikolai asked.

“Well,” she said slowly, “my mom used to hate that house too. So, if I’m here to get to know her better, to try to understand her...maybe it is working after all.”

“What else are you going to do in Moscow?” he asked, pleased at how quickly they’d managed to move from tears to conversation.

“I’m not sure,” Nadia said. “Maybe I’ll go to the State University, where she went to school. Or there’s some other places she mentioned in her journal that I could visit.”

“You have her journal?”

Nadia nodded.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be reading it,” she said, “but it’s pulled me in. She was so different when she lived here.”

Nikolai’s interest was piqued. He was fascinated by this gorgeous girl on her strange odyssey.

“What are the other places?” he asked. “I could take you?”

She seemed about to accept, but then she hesitated. Probably remembering the existence of the detestable fiancé.

“It’s nice of you to offer,” she said. “But I’m sure you’ve got way more important things to do than drive me around.”

Nikolai wanted to insist, but he didn’t press her. Not yet.

He was sure he could win over Nadia Lebedev, given time.

But first he had to get rid of Maxim.

* * *

11

Nadia

We have been irresistibly drifting in different directions, and there’s no altering that.

Leo Tolstoy

Once Nikolai dropped her off at her grandfather’s house, Nadia hurried inside, almost too flustered to thank him for the ride.

She was furious at herself for breaking down and crying in front of a man who was practically a stranger, not to mention a Markov.

And she was even more off put by the strange sense of connection she had felt with him.

The way they had laughed and talked together had felt so comfortable and natural. Worse still, she couldn’t deny how extremely attractive she found him. Nikolai’s ridiculous handsomeness made even other good-looking men appear sloppy and unrefined by comparison.

His deep voice, his laugh, the way his large hands had manipulated the gear shift...it was too much. As annoyed as she might be with Maxim, Nadia knew she had better stay far away from Nikolai. He was dangerous to her, in more ways than one.

She entered her grandfather’s house as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb him or her aunt, who she assumed were both asleep.

The house was even creepier at night, with all the lights switched off and the old wooden beams of the walls and ceiling creaking and groaning at odd intervals, as the building adjusted to the cooler evening temperatures.

Moscow was never very hot, even in the peak of summer. Rainy and cloudy days were frequent, and jackets were welcome in the evenings. Nadia could only imagine how miserable it must be in the winters, during the long, snowy months of pale daylight hours and interminable nights.

Cold places made brutal people. Ice drove deep into the heart, over time.

“How was the party?” a voice said from the kitchen.

Nadia jumped, almost dropping her purse.