And therein lay the problem. Anytime we were alone, we were in danger of fooling around. Which might explain why Sevastyan had been avoiding me.
“Paxán, I need you to level with me,” I said, my face heating anew. “What would happen, if there was more . . . trifling?”
The dapper gentleman clockmaker pulled at his collar, utterly uncomfortable with this, reminding me that he was new at having a daughter. “Do you mind if I switch from English?” he asked, and I waved him on.
In Russian, using what had to be a record number of euphemisms, Paxán basically told me that if Sevastyan and I consummated a relationship, the man would be obligated to become plighted to me—a way of saying bound, fairly much forever—even without the wedding.
It all became clear. No wonder Sevastyan had distanced himself from me—he dreaded what might happen. Attraction to me was one thing, being plighted quite another.
Not that I wanted such an arrangement with him, but it still stung that he’d do anything to avoid getting saddled with me.
The first couple of days after the closet incident, I’d made excuses for his distance. He was too busy, had too much on his mind. Stupid, Natalie.
Not the guy to hold my hands and warm them when they’re cold.
“I believe I’m bungling this.” Paxán rubbed his temples. “You’re so young. Too young to be given to another?”
“Given?” I said, voice scaling an octave higher. This was the way of the world here, a world I was now immersed in.
Gaze going distant, Paxán said, “Still, considering all the danger these days, maybe you need a man who would lay down his life for you.”
“Will you tell me more about Travkin and the current threat against us?” Paxán kept the specifics in the vault, so to speak, not wanting to burden me. “Do we all have glaring bull’s-eyes on our backs?”
Paxán seemed not to have heard me. “It is a difficult situation, and perhaps it’s not meant to be with you and Aleksei. There are shadows in him.”
“Shadows?”
Paxán focused on me once more. “I know Filip is also interested in you. You’re closer in age and have much more in common.”
“I’m not attracted to him like that. I almost wish I could be, but I’m not.”
“No attraction at all? To Filip?”
I shook my head. “None.”
“That is . . . unexpected. Perhaps you just need to give all this some time. Let things settle as they will?”
Sevastyan strode up the pavilion steps then, shoulders bunched with tension. A look passed between the two men, and Paxán immediately stood. “Now, my dear, it appears that I have pressing business.”
I made my expression neutral. “Anything I should know about?” Whenever Sevastyan scanned for danger, was it because he was extremely vigilant or because danger was imminent?
Paxán absently kissed my head. “Nothing we can’t handle. . . .”
Behind him, Sevastyan’s restless demeanor called to mind that ticking bomb clock. His golden eyes darkened on my face—like an indecipherable warning, meant for me alone.
Sooner or later, the countdown clock would zero out.
And then what would happen?
Chapter 17
“I need answers, Filip.” He and I were in the stables, awaiting the groom. The weather had finally broken after another week of rain, and I’d invited Filip to join me for a ride. “I need to know more about the threat to Kovalev.”
Things around Berezka continued to heat up, and no one would explain to me what was happening. Not even when a photographer had arrived yesterday to take a head shot of me—for my new fake Russian passport. “Just a precaution,” Paxán had assured me. “You never know when you might need to travel outside our territory.”
To travel? Or to flee?
Since my talk with Paxán, I’d gone on a Sevastyan-fast, working to keep my mind off him. Sometimes I would catch his penetrating gaze on me—the clock ticking on—but he never said anything to me beyond good morning.
Still that tension simmered between us, mirroring the business tension pervading the estate. Both continued to grow, with no end in sight.
“Don’t worry about it, Nat.” Filip looked model-stylish in his boots, tan riding pants, and plaid equestrian jacket. Only a man of his physical perfection could pull off that outfit, a cross between voguish and swank. But he also looked exhausted. “Your father is a clever man. He’s always one step ahead of the bad guys, even a ruthless character like Travkin.”
I adjusted my own tailored coat with my warm gloves. Though the sun was out, the air was chilly. Fall in Russia had a definite bite. “I wish there was something I could do to help.” I’d edited Kovalev’s sparse Wikipedia entry, adding “allegedly” everywhere and implementing a “Contributions to Charity” section.
How had the syndicate lived without me all this time?
Strangely, there was no mention of Aleksandr Sevastyan anywhere online. There was a prominent family in Russia with the same last name, but they were in legitimate commerce and even politics.
“You are helping.” Filip chucked me under the chin. “You make the old man happy. Each day you two grow closer. It’s obvious to everyone. Let the menfolk take care of this.”
I stiffened, then realized he was kidding. He was the most modern-minded guy here, and he loved to yank my chain.
“You’re ravishing when you’re all feminine and piqued.” He tilted his head. “You know, you’d be amazing blackmail bait. That’d be one way to join the family business, Cuz.”
“Are you trying to distract me?”
With his angelic smile, he asked, “Is it working?” He reached forward to grasp my ponytail, twirling the end around his forefinger. Just when I was about to step away, he abruptly dropped his hand. He had a knack for sensing how far he could push with the flirting.
He’d been having to pull back more and more—because he was always flirting. At times Filip’s behavior made me wonder if he was aware of those plighted rules. I could swear there was an almost desperate feel to his attentions—which didn’t fit with, well, everything about him. “There’s nothing you can tell me?”
“Hey, I just work on the books. Sevastyan doesn’t allow me inside the inner circle.”
“Me neither.” We were outsiders looking in.
When Filip brushed his hand over his tired face, I noticed that his watch was gone. Like Paxán and Sevastyan, he’d had an expensive wristwatch, but I hadn’t seen it in a couple of days. I narrowed my gaze. “Something’s going on with you.” I looked into those guileless gray eyes. Too guileless?