“Oh—go, Demyan. I think this one’s for you,” Vera heard her mother urge.
As her father came closer, Vera noticed Igor slipping past Claire to leave the room. Hannah, and Vera’s mother both had phones at the ready for what was to come.
Vaslav leaned in, and kissed Vera on the shell of her ear before murmuring, “Dance with your father and make the most of your time. I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight for a few days after tonight. It’s my time with you now, and we both know I’ve earned it.”
His promise came laced with sin. The kind that set her nerves on fire, and had her mind racing with anticipation. By the gleam in his eye and smirk toying with his lips, Vaslav witnessed her inner war, and reveled in it.
“You shouldn’t do that to me when we still have guests,” Vera scolded under her breath, but it did nothing for the heat flooding her cheeks.
Vaslav winked as he pulled away, asking genuinely, “Do what?”
Vera shivered from his question; his dark words caressed her skin like the silk of her gown did with every movement she made. Despite picking a second, more appropriate dress to wear after the ceremony, she continued wearing the heavy gown. Tight to her body, it had been a risk. Silk always was a risky choice when without much structure underneath, the fabric could be unforgiving to parts of a woman’s figure that she might prefer to hide. Soft and constricting at the same time, Vera couldn’t stand the thought of taking it off.
Especially not after the way Vaslav had visually approved of her choice and wedding dress at the altar.
Demyan, too close for Vera to ignore now, cleared his throat. “Are we dancing?”
Vaslav held on to Vera’s hand right down until only the tips of their fingers touched, before he finally let her go. “You are, comrade.”
Cheeky prick.
He knew good and well what he was doing.
Vera would play along.
For now.
“Yeah, Papa,” Vera said, turning with open arms ready for her father, “I think Hannah picked this one for us.”
*
Hannah was sweet enough to add a second song to the playlist that was geared toward a father and daughter that gave Vera extra time to linger close to the safety of her father wrapped in his hug. Her forehead rested against Demyan’s cheek while he regaled her with another of her childhood antics that had them both in stitches. Her favorite in the bunch so far. That one, in particular, was how she’d decided that her younger brother, Roman—the only biological child between her parents—would be allowed to stay as a part of their family. After his birth, of course.
“He wanted to come for this,” Demyan assured her.
For the fifth time. At least. He wasn’t the first—even Claire said the same thing.
Demyan also pulled rank. Roman, most times unpredictable even when on his best behaviour, couldn’t currently leave the country. He could, should his father want to take the risk of travelling his son with fake documents, but he opted not to.
She didn’t blame him. Demyan was already on Interpol’s watch list for more than a few reasons.
“I know,” Vera replied. And she did.
Her father’s sigh lasted just long enough to say he wasn’t particularly happy about it, though. Some things never changed ... or so she was told.
“I hope you know that I’m so happy you lived, Vera. That you got the chance when every card was stacked against you.”
With his hand still tucked in hers, she used them both to poke playfully at his chest, earning her laugh. “You had a lot to do with that, too, Papa,” she told him.
Lifting her head to see Demyan nod at her, she smiled wide.
“That, too, is true,” he said. “I guess.”
There was no guesswork to it. She lived, and he did everything he could to let her do it.
“I wouldn’t be me without you, in a way. I wouldn’t have been so willing to get out and live a life I wanted had you not expected me to; had you not taught me to.”
His eyes—Avdonin-blue as their family affectionately called it—the same as hers, softened. “I’ll be honest,” he said with a light chuff, “and say I did have a little hope that you might settle down closer to home. It would be easier to watch your family grow; I envisioned that, getting to do what my father did with me, but I know here is where you’re meant to be.”
That mattered more.
He didn’t need to say it.
“To be fair,” she said, trying to shrug the heavier emotions off her bare shoulders while also attempting not to burst her father’s bubble further, “there are no plans for ... growing, as you said.”
She didn’t come right out and say she had no intentions of giving Demyan grandchildren. Her statement should have been clear enough.
“Oh well,” was all he said.
Not oh-pause-well. No. Just oh well, no surprise at all, like it didn’t even make a difference.
Their slow waltz never missed a beat. His smile didn’t falter, either. Vera wouldn’t admit that his unconcerned response helped to ease the anxiety about her choice. She was a woman, after all—maybe she wondered if there was something about motherhood that she would miss out on. It still wasn’t quite enough to change her mind on the topic of kids, however. If the question needed a life-altering event to be answered, well that spoke for itself.
“How long are you and Ma planning to stay in Russia?” she asked, then, redirecting their topic of conversation to a better one. “And did they let you extend your stay in town?”
“They were happy to,” Damian returned with a grin. “But I’m paying a small fortune weekly for that bed and breakfast—it’s good money. No one smart would refuse, hmm?
It paid to be rich. So to speak.
“But how long are you staying?”
His ability to pay for lodging Claire liked in Dubna was only part of her initial question, and not even the most important one. Vera had a suspicion as to why her father opted to answer one rather than the other. Because he had some scheme going on currently with Vaslav. Evident by their many phone conversations lately that usually occurred in the late evenings. Which meant business.
Obviously, mafiya.
Demyan did nothing but stare at his daughter, proving her silent thoughts right, too. “At least a couple of weeks. I assume. There are always things that take time, Vera.”
She didn’t press for more information, and was lucky to get what she did, likely.
His scant details about the coming weeks—and her parents’ last-minute plans to stay in the country longer than expected—would have to be dealt with later, or whenever Vera got the time seeing as how she couldn’t forget Vaslav’s earlier promise after their dance. It still lingered on the back of her mind.
Hannah popped in behind Demyan, and tapped him on the shoulder with a tinkling laugh when she caught him off guard. The song also changed at the same time. Like perhaps her friend had that little trick planned. Hannah’s grin said she might. The song was one with a faster beat, too. Exactly the girls’ style.
“I can cut in now, right?” Hannah asked.
Damian didn’t even hesitate. “Of course.”
“Are you going to let him do the work of taking off the dress?” Hannah looped their arms together, and flashed a cheeky grin.