White Nights (White Nights 1)

“Sure thing, Kate,” she says with a smile, already turning to the patient.

“I’ll see you when you’ve filled out the paperwork,” I say to Bes.

I’m five minutes late, so I don’t linger any longer. I rush to the locker room and don my scrubs in record time. Three minutes later, I’m washing my hands. A male nurse pushes Bes in a wheelchair into the hall when I’m done. A doctor arrives shortly, ordering him to the radiography wing for x-rays.

My day gets busy, and I forget about Bes until he comes back to the ER with his scans showing a fractured wrist. I assist the doctor who gives him a shot for the pain and puts a cast on him from his wrist to his knuckles, leaving only his fingers free.

I’m already busy with another patient when Bes comes to find me, his arm in a sling.

“I came to say thank you,” he says, his face oddly expressionless even as intelligence and curiosity burn in his eyes.

“You’re welcome. How’s the pain?”

“Bearable.”

“They say a wrist hurts worse than an arm.”

“I wouldn’t know. It’s the first time I’ve broken anything in my life.”

I smile. “I hope it’s the last.”

“Thanks again, Miss…?

“Morrell. Kate Morell.”

“Thank you for your help, Kate. You be careful now. As you saw for yourself, it’s easy to slip and fall.”

With that, he turns and leaves.

It’s not until later in the day that I discover my hospital access card is missing.

26

After declaring my card lost, I go through the red tape of filling out all the necessary forms, which takes a whole hour and makes me late for dinner. I send a text message to Alex to let him know what happened and ask Yuri to fetch me later, but I don’t hear anything back from Alex. He must be busy with work himself. It’s always hectic for everyone in the weeks leading up to the holiday season. Joanne says her workload doubles around this time.

I’m tired to the bone, cold, and hungry when I finally climb into the back of the car. As usual, Yuri doesn’t say much as he drives me home. It gives me time to think. I need to decide what to do with my studio. Since I’m living with Alex, the cost of keeping the apartment isn’t justified. Legally, I’m not allowed to sublease it. The only feasible solution is to give my notice to the landlord. To avoid paying the penalty for breaking the lease before the two-year period has come to an end, I’ll have to find a tenant to take over my rent. I’ll speak to Nancy tomorrow. She’s sharing an apartment with two other girls, but mentioned looking for a place of her own.

It’s dark outside when we come to a stop, only the porch light illuminating the path. The angel is almost completely covered in snow, her form visible under a blanket of white. The broken tip of her wing and the curve of her hand where it’s lying on the rim of the fountain look as if they’ve been sketched in white, a painting drawn in concrete and snow.

I climb the three steps to the door, shaking the snow from my coat and boots before venturing inside. Alex waits in the foyer. I grin when I see him, a sense of homecoming washing over me. I quickly shrug off my coat and leave it on the coat stand before walking over and folding my arms around his waist. Burying my face against his chest, I inhale his familiar scent of cardamom and spices and hug him tighter.

He holds me to him for a long moment, his embrace almost uncomfortably tight.

When I finally manage to untangle myself from his death grip, I pull away to search his face. Despite the soft set of his sensual lips, the line of his jaw is tight.

Marusya rushes downstairs with a pile of dresses thrown over her arm. Leonid follows in her wake, carrying two big suitcases.

The housekeeper barely spares me a glance as she shows Alex the dresses and says something in Russian while Leonid scurries past me and out the door. A few men I haven’t seen before enter from the hallway. Judging by their dark suits, earpieces, and gun holsters, they’re bodyguards. Their presence, and especially the weapons, make me nervous. I’ve never seen so many guards in Alex’s house. What are they doing? Sweeping the rooms? Their postures are rigid, their expressions alert.

Turning my attention back to Marusya, I take in her flushed cheeks. Like the men, she’s tense.

“Da,” Alex says to Marusya in a brusque command.

She bobs her head up and down and flashes me a guilty look before running back up the stairs. I stare at the sequined fabric of the evening dress that trails behind her on the floor, a dress Alex bought for me.