Vera lifted one bare shoulder where the neckline and upper sleeve of her dress dangled dangerously. He was right about the dress, too. Every inch of the cable knit design accentuated the curves of her body in the most temping way.
“Mostly, I want you to mean it,” she said.
“I’m sorry?”
“Whatever you’re about to say, can you mean it?”
“Funny.”
“What is?” she asked.
“Fifteen minutes ago, you thought I killed your father. Now, you want me to propose like I mean it. One thing is not like the other, Vera.”
“I never thought that, actually. Or I wouldn’t have come here at all.”
He had no choice but to believe her. He couldn’t find a reason to think she might be lying, either. More often than not, he found himself playing a dangerous game with this woman. One she didn’t even realize she played, too.
A game of trust.
He blindly gave it.
She’d not yet ruined it.
How long would that last?
“Will you marry me?” Vaslav asked, holding her left hand in his while his other kept the ring box propped up in view for them both. “Because you want to. Marry me, Vera, promise me that I won’t be alone ... and I’ll give you the world.”
He could mean that.
He did.
The woman had the nerve to make him squirm more when her shapely legs shifted in the wedge ankle boots a shade or two darker than her dress.
“I expect a kiss when I agree,” she finally said. “If you’re going to give me the illusion of a choice, then you might as well make it worth it while you’re on the clock.”
Vaslav’s mouth twitched with a smile. “Is that a yes?”
“Am I getting a kiss?”
“Vera.”
His sharp mutter of her name only made her laughter sweeter to his ears. It was even better when she whispered a breathy, “Fine, that’s a yes.”
He muffled her next burst of happy laughter with the crush of his kiss as he came up off his knee. The ring stayed safe in his hand, he couldn’t even be bothered to get it in her hand first, while he kissed away the shakiness he’d felt in her hand and had heard in her words. It was bruising; he wanted to see what his roughness left behind and how well she wore it. Every unforgiving sweep of his lips captured hers until her mouth was open for him, and he could take her breath, too.
To be fair, she let him as she melted into the back-breaking squeeze of his arms to get her closer.
Vaslav pulled away from a trembling, red-lipped Vera. He tugged the ring from its spot tucked between velvet folds, still husky when he scoffed and said, “You need to stop acting like the illusion of anything I give you is a problem when you clearly like all of it, kisska.”
The squeak-squeak of shoes coming to a rushed halt on the hardwood floors announced their forgotten visitor.
“Are we celebrating something?” Mira asked.
Was it because they were still close?
Could it be because they both smiled?
Vera’s smile just happened to be a little more of a challenge. His, of course, stretched wider as the victor.
“I like it when you don’t deny it,” Vaslav said to Vera, too quiet for Mira to hear.
Then, to the woman waiting between the dining room and kitchen, he added, “Do you think we could find something more comfortable for Vera to wear for the ride, Mira? Boot-wise.”
Vera’s brow furrowed as she peered down at her shoes. He took her momentary distraction as a chance to slip the engagement ring on her finger. By the time she looked back up, he was able to see the surprise skip over her expression when she saw it on her finger for the first time.
“Lucky it’s a perfect fit, no?” Vaslav asked. “For a family piece, I mean. I suspect he didn’t have it resized.”
“A ring! We are celebrating,” Mira crowed.
The most excitement he had heard out of her all day. She was terribly bored without his mother sticking her fingers in every aspect of Mira’s days, but he didn’t regret cutting off the communication. It couldn’t last long.
Vera’s lips curved with her sweet happiness. “You’re a trip sometimes. You know that?”
“Mmm,” he grunted noncommittally. “Mira, the boots?”
“Yes, on it!”
He let go of Vera’s hand, all too pleased with the fact that he had been right again as he reveled in the sight of her arm falling back to her side. The ring did snare a person’s focus on her hand like a trap for the eyes. Unmistakable in the way her delicate fingers displayed it—and him.
His claim on her.
“Why do I need boots?” Vera asked.
“We’re having lunch.”
“Okay?”
He smirked. “With your father.”
“I still don’t see what that has anything to do with boots.”
“Soon you will.”
3.
Vera appreciated that Vaslav wasn't a liar. She did soon learn why she needed boots and exactly how he returned to the house so fast after her initial arrival. The sporty four-wheeled ROV featured a roll bar painted in neon yellow and decorative stickers of black flames on every wheel well.
Only one helmet waited in the passenger seat of the two-seater recreational off-road vehicle, and Vaslav didn't give Vera any time to argue about who would wear the helmet before he plucked it up where it waited on the black leather racing seat beyond the loose mesh that clipped to the roll bar like a makeshift door, and plunked it down on her head with a gentle plunk of his fist on the very top.
“Might be a little loose,” he told her as his fingers spread wide on the top of the helmet to jiggle it.
Vera glowered playfully at him when he lifted the visor of the full-face shield high enough for him to see her face inside the helmet. “A little warning would have been nice.”
“I don't like when people know my plans, actually.”
“It’s just a helmet.”
Vaslav winked. “Is it?”
Vera, still holding the reasonably-sized storage cooler Mira had packed with lunch, only sighed. There wasn’t much else she could do considering her hands were full. He soon took the cooler, shifting the lever handles on either end from her hands to his and shoved it to the middle block between the two seats of the side-by-side. The only spot it could go other than on her lap considering the ROV didn’t even have any rear trunk space.
“Jump in,” he said as he rounded the front, “and buckle up.”
Vera eyed him as he went, enjoying the view of him in dark-wash denim and an old cotton sweater with lettering across the front that had long since faded. She couldn’t remember a single time when he had dressed down in her presence, but he still looked good to her with every long stride of his muscled thighs.
“Will you, too?” she asked back.
“What?”
“Buckle up? I don’t see a helmet for you. Safety first and all.”
That made him laugh. A delight she wasn’t expecting considering the way it lit up his scarred face. Vaslav jumped in the driver’s seat of the side-by-side making it rock on the suspension from the sudden weight. “Get your priorities straight, kisska. Helmets and seatbelts are the very least of my problems when it comes to safety. Come on, he’s been down there thirty minutes or more. I bet he’s about ready to kill me for it, too.”