The Double

The cellist blinked. The rest of the quartet stared at her, worried. Whatever that piece was, apparently it was a serious ask. Then the cellist nodded, sat up very straight, wriggled her shoulders, and flipped through her music with the air of someone refusing to back down from a challenge.

She began to play and it was beautiful, a haunting tune that made me think of the might of an army and loss...unspeakable loss. But it also lifted and carried you, lending you hope. Konstantin allowed me only a bar or two to get used to it and then we were off.

I’d barely ever danced with a partner before. My memory of dancing with men is awkwardly shuffling around a dance floor with one of the ushers at a friend’s wedding, trying not to step on each other’s toes. This was not like that. This was amazing.

He led. Head up, back ramrod straight, sweeping me around the room in great, bold arcs and looping swirls. The whole crowd had stopped to watch, but he wasn’t self-conscious at all. His eyes never left mine. His only focus was on making me happy.

And somehow, even though I had no idea what I was doing and my feet were screaming in pain, I managed to stay with him. He was so strong and he hauled me around with such confidence, I just had to give up control and go with it. It helped that I always knew exactly what he was going to do: he communicated in the way he held me: a press of that big hand on my back meant we were going forwards, a gentle squeeze on my hand meant we were breaking left...I forgot to be shy and scared, I forgot about all the people watching, and I just enjoyed it.

God, he looked so right, dancing like this. The music suited his looks, bold and beautiful, strong yet graceful. Noble, which seemed like a crazy term to put on a criminal. But it fitted.

We finally glided to a stop and the room erupted into applause. The cellist put down her bow and slumped, panting but grinning. Konstantin took both my hands in his and looked down at me.

“Thank you,” I said with feeling. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”

His eyes flickered blue for an instant, softening as he remembered. “My grandmother.” He glanced away for a second as if pushing the momentary weakness away, but when he looked at me again, the blue was still there. He’d enjoyed the dancing, despite himself. We both had. He pulled on my hands just a little bit and I stepped closer, looking up at him, my body molding to his. His eyes fell to my lips again and I felt my heart tighten and lift in anticipation.

And then he seemed to remember who he was, what our relationship was. He squeezed my hands one last time and then dropped them. “I should….” He nodded towards the poker room.

I nodded quickly. “Go.”

We walked off in opposite directions. I could feel the eyes of every woman there on me and heard a hundred whispered conversations. No one could believe what he’d just done, including me. How could he be so cold, so mercilessly evil, and yet do something so warm and romantic? I wanted to scream at them, see? He’s more than you think!

Then I saw Grigory through the crowd. I ducked back behind a cluster of politicians. I didn’t want to run into him on my own and have to talk my way out of another kiss. I’d managed to keep my distance over the last week, never letting myself be alone with him, but I could tell he was getting frustrated.

He wasn’t looking for me now, though. He was talking to one of the guests, a man I didn’t recognize. They were speaking in low tones, using the hubbub around them as cover. This was important, I could feel it.

I sidled closer, keeping my back towards Grigory. “You have it?” he asked the man. “I need to deliver it tonight.”

The other man had a thick, wiry beard and a heavy Russian accent. “I have it. You have my money?”

“I’ll get it. Meet me downstairs, in the parking garage, in five minutes,” said Grigory.

They headed off in different directions. I thought fast. Today was the 15th, the day the “tool” was meant to be delivered to the man I’d met at the shopping mall. Konstantin must have asked Grigory to take care of it, just as he’d asked Christina to deliver the money. Grigory was about to buy the “tool” and then deliver it. This was my only chance to find out what it was.

I raced for the stairs...and staggered, cursing. I’d forgotten about my feet. After an hour of walking around and then a bout of dancing, they were in agony. I wasn’t racing anywhere.