84

Camila

It’s bright outside, and oddly sunny for winter. The glare through the car’s windshield blinds me at certain angles. Asher’s sunglasses make it hard to catch the way his eyes skirt toward me before returning to the road.

“Where are we going?”

There’s a wisp of a smirk on his lips. “You’ll see.”

“Why can’t you just say?” I ask.

“Because the point of a surprise is to be surprised, ptichka.”

I roll my eyes, but truthfully, I’m delighted. It’s clear he’s enjoying himself, so this “surprise” must be good. Plus, the last surprise like this involved me getting a bucket-list item of a ballet performance of a lifetime. What could he be cooking up?

Having something to take my mind off how stressful the last months have been is a welcome change. It’s only been a few days since Asher’s foiled assault on the Winter Palace. From browsing the internet on my phone, I was able to find out that the news reported the incident as the cops intervening in some massive organized crime feud. Listening