“You’re enjoying this too much.”
“Yes.”
The dancer tugs again, and Katerina finally gives in with a sound of pure disbelief. She steps into the little open space near the musicians, cheeks flushed, one hand pressed to her coat as if she can hold her dignity in place by force.
She cannot dance this style.
Not even close.
Her first step is wrong, her second is worse, and by the third she’s laughing too hard to care. The woman in red guides her through a simple turn, and Katerina spins under her arm, boots sliding slightly on the damp pavement.
I move without thinking, ready to catch her. She recovers on her own and looks directly at me with triumph.
The crowd claps.
I shake my head, but I’m smiling. I feel it on my face before I can stop it.
However, the smile fades when I realize one of my men is watching me from the edge of the crowd with undisguised interest. He looks away quickly, but not quickly enough.
Katerina finishes the small dance breathless and laughing. She tries to return to my side, but the woman in red says something in Russian and gestures toward me.
Katerina looks suspicious. “What did she say?”
“She says you need a better partner.”
“Oh.” Her eyes brighten. “Wonderful. Come here.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I do not dance in streets.”
“You do now.”
“No.”
She steps close enough to take my hand. Her fingers are cold through the glove, her smile warm enough to make refusal difficult. Around us, the crowd has already sensed blood. The violinist grins. The accordion player changes the rhythm into something slower, more mocking than helpful.
“Katerina,” I warn.
“You said I should see Moscow properly.”
“Dancing on wet pavement was not in the plan.”
“You had a plan?”
“I always have a plan.”
“Then this will be good for you.”
She pulls. I let her.
The crowd claps when I step into the open space. Katerina looks far too pleased with herself. Snow drifts between us. The woman in red says something encouraging and retreats, leaving me with a runaway bride who has no idea how close she is to a man covered in sins.
“You’re smiling,” Katerina says.
“No.”