“No, I am astonished that I am not forced to endure a lecture on the stupidity of men who fall victim to a female’s snare.”
Josef straightened, carrying the tray to set it on a low table inlaid with bronze.
“You know my opinion.”
“Then why are you not scolding me as if I am a witless idiot?”
“If you must dangle on some female’s leash then you could do much worse than Emma Linley-Kirov.”
Dimitri was genuinely shocked. He had known Josef since they were both scrawny youths, struggling to stay alive in the gutters of St. Petersburg. In all that time the man had never revealed more than a bitter distrust for the opposite sex.
The predictable result of a boy beaten nearly to death by his mother and left in the rubbish to die.
“Good Lord, surely you cannot approve of a mere female?” he teased.
Josef turned to meet Dimitri’s amused gaze. “She is different from most.”
Dimitri’s lips twisted. “True.”
“Did you see her standing in the street as cool as you please, while Valik held a pistol to her head?” Josef smiled. “I could not have done better myself.”
A stab of remembered terror made his heart forget to beat. “It is a vision engraved on my mind, I assure you.”
“Most women would have swooned or at least been sniffling and begging for their life. But not Emma.”
Dimitri nearly rolled his eyes at the admiration in his companion’s voice. It was all very well for Josef to approve of Emma’s impulsive courage. He was not the one who lived in constant fear she would plunge into some disaster he could not save her from.
“No, not Emma. She would spit in the eye of the devil,” he admitted wryly. “Just like my mother.”
“That is surely a good thing?”
“I had convinced myself that I preferred females who understood that it was a man’s responsibility to offer her protection. Not a woman who—”
“A woman who would make a man proud,” Josef finished with a lift of his brows.
Dimitri attempted to appear resigned, even as a smug satisfaction flared through his heart.
Yes, he would always be proud of Emma.
She was utterly unique.
“It is a pity she is destined to put me in an early grave.”
“It is not too late to walk away.”
“It was too late from the moment she arrived in St. Petersburg.” Dimitri lifted the flask to his lips, wincing as the bandages tugged at his injury. “Damn.”
Josef moved back to the divan, scowling down at his employer.
“How does it feel?”
“As if I have a hole in my shoulder, but I will no doubt survive.” Dimitri raised the flask in a toast. “Yet another fine job, old friend.”
Josef grimaced as the faint sound of voices penetr
ated the large double doors at the far side of the room.
“Let us hope that I did not remove the bullet so that the pasha could have your head removed,” he muttered.