Page 69 of The Fire Beneath the Frost

My name echoed in my head like a shot fired in an empty room.Applause broke out around me, muted but enthusiastic.A few coworkers patted my back.One guy even gave me a playful shove, nearly knocking me off balance.

Vera added, “And in recognition of his exemplary attendance record, he will be granted Friday off to begin his dacha weekend early.Three full days of well-earned rest.”

I stared at her like she’d just announced I’d won a private tour of the Kremlin with Gorbachev himself.

“Me?”I muttered.

Petyr turned, smiling so wide I thought his face might split in two.

“I told you you’d love this surprise,” he murmured against my ear.His voice dropped to something lower, more dangerous.“We’ll be alone.All weekend.Just you and me.”

My heart stopped.

The factory floor melted away—the noise, the people, even the stink of machine grease.All I could hear was Petyr’s breath against my neck, and the blood rushing in my ears like waves crashing on distant shores.

Just him and me.

For three whole days.

* * *

Petyr was singing.

Actually singing—half under his breath, sure, but not enough to hide the fact that he was cheerful.I stared at him across the loom like he’d grown wings and was about to fly straight out the cracked skylight above us.

It wasn’t an actual song.Just a few low, tuneless phrases that circled the same few notes.But I recognized the melody, warped though it was.Shostakovich.He always turned to Shostakovich when he was feeling too much.And today, clearly, he was feeling everything.

I couldn’t stop smiling.No matter how many times I told my face to behave.It was like someone had cut the ropes around my chest and I could finally take a full breath.

Alone.

No Vera, and no family obligations.No alleyways or locked storerooms or watching our backs in public.Just us.

The lunch whistle blew, and the looms groaned to a stop.The air suddenly filled with voices, movement, and the usual clatter of workers heading to the break room.

I wiped my hands, about to follow, when Petyr grabbed my elbow.

“Follow me,” he whispered.

I blinked.“Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer.Just grinned like he was about to do something wildly illegal and delightful.I followed, of course.I always followed.

He led me past the lockers, up the back stairwell, one I’d never actually used before, and through a narrow hallway that smelled like mold and mothballs.The upstairs was clearly abandoned.Stacks of old green blankets sagged against the walls, mottled with mildew and mouse droppings.Cracked boxes labeled in faded ink leaned against doorways.I heard the soft patter of tiny feet and saw a mouse dart across the peeling linoleum.

“Petyr,” I said, voice low.“Seriously.Where are we going?”

“I want to be alone with you,” he whispered without looking back.“Now.”

My heart stumbled.

He opened the door to an old office, shoved aside a broken chair with his foot, and pulled me in after him.The door clicked shut behind us.

The moment it did, he turned and kissed me.

Hard.

No hesitation.No caution.Just heat and the hunger I’d felt all weekend but couldn’t name.His fingers slid behind my neck, pulling me in tighter, until there was nothing in the world but the sound of our breath and the press of his mouth against mine.

---