Page 133 of Sins of a King
“Be ready in thirty minutes. Dress warmly. It’s cold out.”
I closed my eyes and breathed in the clear air. It hurt my lungs—and it felt amazing. Turning my face up to the sky, I sought the sporadic rays of sun that kept dodging behind thick gray clouds. It looked like snow was in our forecast. Again.
Tromping in snow boots that I’d found in my bedroom closet, I tried to forget about the man walking next to me. Dolinsky was dressed in a heavy red parka and what looked like a Russian hunting hat.
He had a good deal of property—secluded—and it went on for acres. In the distance I could see pine trees bathed in white, but there was a nice clearing around the mansion. I didn’t bother asking him where we were—he wouldn’t tell, not until he was good and ready.
He told me of his penchant for horticulture. Spring would bring a wealth of colorful flowers and a manicured garden, Dolinsky explained.
We didn’t speak much after that as we continued to walk around the grounds. Soon, I got lost in my own thoughts. I wondered if the city had seen any snow yet. What would Flynn and I have done if we were together? Stayed inside and enjoyed the sight from our room or ventured out to Central Park to build a snowman?
My longing for him grew worse and suddenly, the only thing I wanted to do was build a snowman and pretend Flynn was next to me. “Can we stop a moment?” I asked, halting.
“Of course.” Dolinsky thrust his hands into his parka pockets. “Are you tired?”
“No.” Without saying more, I crouched to the ground and began assembling the body of a snowman. I was increasingly thankful for my waterproof mittens as well as my snow pants. Dolinsky didn’t attempt to help me, not that I would’ve let him. This was for me. I stopped building when the mound of snow reached about four feet. I looked around for branches, but there were none. I settled for taking off my scarf and wrapping it around the snowman’s neck, but I kept my hat. The temperature was dropping, and the clouds were growing darker.
“Maybe we should head back,” I said, looking at the sky. Without saying anything, he took off his hat and placed it on the snowman’s head. We trekked toward the house, Dolinsky’s ears beginning to turn red.
He never complained.
I was curled up on the couch in the living room with a wool blanket covering my legs. A fire blazed in the gas fireplace, the flames licking the synthetic wood logs. I held up a mug of steaming tea close to my face as I watched the snow fall. Nothing but snow for three days.
“Do you get to spend a lot of time here?” I asked.
Dolinsky looked up from the book he was reading. He had taken to seeking me out in the afternoons, not exchanging a lot of words, just wanting to be in the same room as me. I was surprisingly grateful for his presence because even though he was the reason I was alone, he was still a comfort in the large house.
“No,” he answered. “I’m usually in the city.”
“A shame,” I said. “It’s beautiful here. Peaceful.”
“It is. Unfortunately, it’s hard to monitor things from this remote location. I am going into the city for a few days.”
I instantly perked up.
“You will remain here.”
I glared at him and all he did was smile. “And who will you have watching me? You can’t leave me unguarded.”
“No, I cannot,” he agreed, going back to his reading.
“Hey,” I demanded.
“Yes?”
“Talk to me.”
“About what?”
“About whose presence I’m going to have to endure while you’re away.”
“Are you going to miss me?” he teased.
“Miss you? Missyou. This is bullshit, Igor!” With a huff, I threw off the blanket and stood. In a rage, I hurled my full tea mug at the wall, enjoying the dribble of liquid running down the light gray paint. I turned to Dolinsky, expecting to be reprimanded for my outburst and childish behavior.
I was not expecting the grin.
“Don’t smirk at me,” I commanded.
