Page 50 of Crimson

“How’s that?” she said.

“If I’m going to be in Moscow, I should stay here, in the Lebedev house.”

Her aunt scowled.

“And what about Nikolai Markov?” she demanded.

“If he’s my enemy, I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Nadia said.

Rashel didn’t like that answer, but she didn’t argue any further.

She stirred the borscht, where it simmered in the pot.

“Well, are you going to eat or not?” she said grumpily.

“Let’s eat,” Nadia said.

Her aunt labeled up two generous bowls of the rich red soup.

Nadia blew on hers to cool it, then took a bite.

It was the best she’d ever tasted.

* * *

21

Nadia

My eyes are tempted by the smile of an angel, and your lips whisper secrets of forbidden love.

Natasha Harvey

January 5th, 1986

This winter has been the coldest and darkest in years. And yet, I’ve never been so happy. I feel warm everywhere I go—I think I could run naked and barefoot through Red Square without feeling the slightest chill. I have a fire inside of me, burning for Ivan, every hour of the day.

I think we both knew what was about to happen between us. I had several ideas of where we should go—a friend’s house, a seedy hotel, even the library at school if it came down to it. If it wasn’t so damned cold, we would have just found a quiet corner of a park.

It’s been difficult because, if anything, Ivan’s been even more secretive about where we should meet. I think he’s afraid of my father finding out about us. It’s true that he has connections everywhere. I know his men follow me sometimes, though I’ve learned how to shake them off since I was fifteen years old and wanted to be able to have a pint with my lunch without them tattling on me.

Ivan’s been so tense. I wonder if he’s afraid my father will hurt him.

Honestly, I’m afraid of that myself.

Papa has been suspicious lately. And I know he’s been making plans, talking about me on the phone.

God, I feel like such a prisoner. I’ve begged Ivan to just leave Moscow with me. I said we should go a thousand miles away.

He said, “That would be nice.” But he was smiling in a sad sort of way like I’d said we should go to Jupiter together—as if it were just an impossible dream.

I was almost angry with him.

I said, “Don’t you want to be with me? We can’t go on like this forever.”

And he said, “I know.”

And then he kissed me, and I couldn’t bring myself to fight with him a moment longer.