I want you. My soul yearns for you. Will you be mine?
“Fuck,” he groaned.
Nikhail raked his hands through his hair, his usually perfectly put-together appearance a mess. His gaze was locked on the smaller box.
He hadn’t even sought it out. He’d been shopping in Upper Lakeside Mall for Winter Solstice gifts for his sisters when a display caught his eye. It had called to him, demanding that he purchase it.
For her.
Even as Nikhail had been paying for the gift, he’d tried to remind himself that this was a bad idea. He couldn’t have her. He came from a different background, and he couldn’t give her the life she deserved.
The problem was that the reasons that used to keep him from River were no longer crystal clear. They were getting foggier by the day.
Ever since he left the hospital a few weeks ago, River had been present in his dreams. Without fail, she was there every single time he closed his eyes. His fingers ached with the ghost of her touch, every single fantasy he had revolved around her, and his air magic yearned to dance with her storm once again.
It wasn’t that the barriers between them no longer existed. It was just that they no longer seemed insurmountable. At least, not to him.
He didn’t know what River thought about all this because he hadn’t seen or spoken to her since he left the hospital. He jumped every time his phone vibrated, but the messages were never from her. He’d typed a dozen texts, but he hadn’t sent a single one.
It rarely happened to him, but he didn’t know how to navigate this situation.
Hence, the two gifts.
He opened the larger box. Twelve handmade chocolates were nestled in the box, looking delicious. Nikhail knew from past experience that River had a sweet tooth, and this gift would go over well.
But the problem was, it felt impersonal. Detached. Good, but not great.
Replacing the lid, he picked up the smaller gift. This one fit in the palm of his hand, and it was light.
Before he could open it, a knock came from the door. Nysa Catheen, his assistant, stood on the other side of the door.
Nikhail had never been a fan of glass doors and walls in offices—had the architects never heard of privacy?—but it wasn’t like he had any say in the building’s design.
The lack of privacy in the office was the main reason Nikhail worked from home as much as possible. Thank the gods, since he didn’t do much field work these days, he was able to complete most of his tasks from the townhouse on his secure computer. There were benefits to working in the military’s intelligence sector, and that was one of them.
“Come in, Nysa,” he called out.
Tiny heels clicked as she entered. An older human with awhite shoulder-length bob and round glasses, Nysa had a grandmotherly air about her. Her smart navy suit matched the long-sleeve cream blouse buttoned all the way up to her neck, where a string of pearls rested. He’d never seen her without the necklace.
“General Whitecliff called, sir.” She pulled a blue sticky note off her clipboard, holding it out for him to take. “She said to remind you she needs the update before you leave for Golden City tonight.”
Nikhail’s lips kicked up into an amused smile as he took the note, sticking it on top of his closed laptop. He had a collection of notes just like this in his wastebasket.
Most assistants sent everything by email, but not Nysa. She was as old-school as they came. When Nikhail worked from home, she insisted on calling him twice a day and personally updating him with everything that had gone on in the office.
“Understood.” He made a mental note to do that before his train’s departure in two hours.
“Very good, sir.” Nysa smiled kindly, but she made no move to leave. “You’ll be gone until the middle of next week, correct?”
“That’s right. I have a meeting after the weekend with the Council of Representatives in the capital, and I’ll be heading back that night.”
“Excellent.” Nysa jotted a note, but rather than leaving, she stepped closer to his desk. Her shrewd gaze landed on the two boxes, and her fingers twitched along the back of her clipboard. “I know it’s not exactly my place, sir…”
“As if that’s ever stopped you before,” Nikhail teased with a smile. He gestured to one of the two chairs on the other side of his desk. “Go ahead, ask.”
Nysa was what Calina, Nikhail’s mother, liked to call “nosy, but nice.” She asked far too many questions for what would be considered an appropriate workplace relationship, but she managed to do so in a way that felt less intrusive and more caring.
Besides, Nysa was incredible at her job. She practically knew what Nikhail needed before he did, so he allowed her this familiarity. She tucked her clipboard against her side and sat primly.