“You’ll reach out,” he murmured. “Yes?”
“Yes,” I agreed. “And next time, I might let you buy me that glass of wine.”
“It would be my pleasure, kraseevaia.”
His palm cupped my cheek as he pulled away. With a dark gleam in his eye, I could only imagine what an actual evening with Vlad might be like. This had only been a lunch in the middle of a workday, and it was a reality I’d nearly forgotten.
The sidewalk outside my office was no shadowed corner. Everybody could see us, including a pair of eyes I knew too well. As I turned to watch Vlad go, I looked over my shoulder and smiled. It was only when I turned back that I noticed a figure frozen on the steps ahead of me.
Warren Jones was staring at me a mere ten feet away. His expression stony, he didn’t move or speak, but I knew my romantic fantasy created by Vlad was abruptly over. Light cutting over the building made my eyes squint. I had to say something, anything.
I swallowed hard. “I can explain.”