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Chapter Seventeen

Petyr

S aturday morning, and I was already regretting every life choice that had led me to a Party breakfast. Vera and I had endured cold kasha, fake smiles, and a speech about tractor quotas delivered by a man with a comb-over so fragile, I was afraid to sneeze near him.

“Why,” Vera muttered beside me as we climbed the stairs to our flat, “does the Party believe productivity increases if we gather before noon on weekends and pretend to be thrilled about sugar beets?”

“Because nothing says communism like organized misery,” I said, eyeing the familiar crack in the wall on the third-floor landing. “Meanwhile, half our friends are already halfway to their dachas with pickled herring and vodka.”

Vera made a low noise of agreement. “Mira said over half of her office is out of town for a long weekend.”

I groaned. “We suffered through kasha, moldy rye toast, and slogans, while almost everybody else is having a wonderful weekend.”

The stairwell stank faintly of cigarettes, but at least it was quiet—until we heard cheerful voices echoing above us. Nina and Pavel, our flatmates, rounded the bend in the staircase just ahead.

“There you are!” Nina chirped. “Guess what? Pavel and I are off to Boris’s dacha for the weekend. The entire weekend! You and Vera have the place to yourselves!”

Pavel waggled his eyebrows. “Try not to miss us too much.”

Vera gave them a smile that said she might actually dance when the door shut behind them.

“Oh Petyr,” Nina added, stopping for a moment. “Dimitri called for you just a few minutes ago. I told him you weren’t home.”

My heart leapt. “Did he say where he was?”

“No, just asked for you. Maybe he’ll call back?” She winked. “Anyway, we’re off! Don’t burn the building down while we’re gone!”

And then they were gone, leaving only the soft echo of their laughter and my racing pulse.

“Dimitri called,” I said aloud, more to taste the words than anything. A little thrill shot through me. Maybe we could see each other tonight. Maybe—just maybe—we could even be alone.

But then I glanced at Vera.

She’d bent over backward to make time for me and Dimitri, coordinating errands and shifting meetings just so we could have a few precious stolen hours. And she deserved her own joy. Maybe Vera should have the flat this time?

“Sanctuary might be open tonight,” I murmured.

We reached our door. Vera unlocked it, and we both kicked off our shoes in the tiny entryway. The apartment already felt quieter. Emptier. Like the walls were breathing a sigh of relief.

Then the phone rang.

Vera raised an eyebrow and went to answer. I followed, lingering by the doorway. Her voice changed instantly—lighter, eager.

“Mira! You’re fast. Nina and Pavel just left for someone’s dacha.” She laughed, a real one. “You can absolutely stay the night. Pack whatever you like. I’ll make dinner.”

I grinned to myself. Well, at least one of us gets to be alone with their lover tonight.

She hung up, beaming, and then turned to me with a gleam in her eye. She dug into her purse and pulled out something shiny.

A key.

“What’s this?” I asked.

She held it out dramatically. “It’s the key to the dacha Comrade Korovin manages for the factory workers.”

I blinked. “How do you have it?”

“I’m supposed to award it to one of the top employees for next weekend.” She smiled mischievously. “I’ve decided that person is Dimitri.”

I stared at her, touched and exasperated all at once.

“I know you wanted the flat,” she blurted. “But Mira and I haven’t had a single night together in weeks. Her flatmates never leave, and ours are always around. Please, Petyr. Take Dimitri to the dacha. You’ll have an entire weekend alone. No interruptions. Just the two of you.”

I sighed. The apartment had seemed like a dream ten minutes ago, but now the dacha was starting to glimmer in my mind—like something out of a poem. Wood smoke, quiet, maybe even stars.

“That actually sounds perfect,” I admitted. “Even if the mattress is stuffed with hay.”

Vera laughed and tossed me the key. “You’ll make it work.”

I pocketed the key and padded into the kitchen to make some tea, while Vera began to clean the place up a little.

“I swear Nina is the laziest woman I know,” I heard Vera bitch from the kitchen. “She never cleans.” I went back into the living room and there was a knock at the door.

Vera looked up from where she was rummaging through a drawer. I set down the tea mug I’d just filled, already hoping it was who I thought it was.

“I’ll get it,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

When I opened the door, Dimitri was standing there. I wanted to grab his hand and drag him back to my bed, but that wasn’t happening.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” I breathed, our gazes locking on each other.

He glanced past me, a little unsure. “Is it okay that I came over? I called earlier and…”

“Of course,” I grinned. “Come in.”

He stepped inside, and just the fact of him standing in our narrow entryway made everything feel warmer, closer. I wanted to reach for his hand but didn’t—not yet. Dimitri didn’t know that Vera knew about us.

Vera grinned. “Dimitri! Excellent timing.” She smiled brightly and waved a spoon. “I’m about to make lunch. Should I make extra for you?”

“Um, sure?” Dimitri stepped inside, and as soon as I shut the door, there was another knock. A firmer one.

Vera and I froze at the same time. I exchanged a glance with her. She mouthed, Who is that?

I cracked the door.

Standing in the hallway were two sharply dressed figures. Andrey Smirnov and Sofia Smirnova. My in-laws, and very high ranking Party members.

My stomach sank.

“Petyr!” Sofia said, sweeping in with the cool charm of a seasoned apparatchik. “We were in the area and thought, what a lovely day for a surprise.”

Behind her, Andrey nodded once. “We hoped to take you and Vera out for lunch.”

Vera, to her credit, didn’t so much as blink. “Mama, Papa,” she said smoothly, stepping forward. “How thoughtful. Please, come in.”

They entered with the efficiency of a military inspection. Sofia took in the apartment like she was making notes for a report. Andrey’s eyes skimmed the corners, lingering briefly on Dimitri.

Introductions were made. Dimitri straightened immediately under their gaze, his shoulders locking into something formal and careful.

“This is Comrade Dimitri,” Vera said, placing a hand on his arm. “He’s a colleague from the factory.”

Sofia nodded graciously. “A pleasure, Comrade.”

Andrey offered a tight smile. “Comrade.”

It was a greeting that reminded you these were not just Vera’s parents—they were Party people. The kind who could make or break careers with a single phone call. People who had power woven into the hems of their overcoats.

The air grew noticeably thinner.

I took a half-step closer to Dimitri, just enough to let him feel he wasn’t alone. His jaw ticked, but he gave no other sign of discomfort.

Sofia clasped her gloved hands. “We thought perhaps we’d take the two of you to lunch, you know, to catch up. But now we see we’ve arrived in the middle of something…”

“No, no,” Vera said quickly. “Not at all. You’re just in time. We were going to have a light lunch here, but we’d be delighted to go out.”

Before I could think of a polite way to scream into a pillow, another knock came at the door.

This time, I didn’t even get a word out. I just opened it.

Mira stood there, slightly out of breath, overnight bag slung over her shoulder. She was smiling, radiant—until her eyes landed on Vera’s parents.

Her smile dropped like a stone into the sea.

Sofia turned first. “And who’s this?”

Vera slid in gracefully. “This is Mira, Mama. My friend. You’ve met. And she’s dating Dimitri.”

Mira nodded mutely, eyes wide. Dimitri managed a stiff little wave.

“Comrade Mira,” Andrey said pleasantly. “Charmed.”

“Comrade,” Sofia added with a warm enough smile to seem friendly, though you could hear the gears turning behind it.

Our cozy little apartment now felt like a conference room.

“Well!” Sofia declared. “A full house. How would all of you like to eat out at a restaurant? Shall we make it a party?”

“Of course,” I said, forcing a grin. “That would be… delightful.”

Sofia turned to Mira and Dimitri with a gracious smile and the kind of warmth that always felt a bit rehearsed. “You must both join us. Our treat, of course. It’ll be lovely to get to know Vera’s friends.”

My gaze met Dimitri’s across the room. For a breath, everything else went quiet. I gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod.

He caught it and straightened slightly. “It would be a pleasure, Comrade,” he said.

Mira, still clutching her overnight bag like a warrior’s shield, gave a tight smile. “Thank you. I’d be honored to join you.”