Noah
The engine of the limousine hums slowly as we drive away from the gala. Outside the windows, the city lights fade into flickering trails, but the outside world is the last of my thoughts. All I hear, all I see, is her.
Irina is sitting next to me, yet she seems light years away. She's settled into a corner, body facing slightly toward the window, but I can't help but notice how her fingers nervously play with the edge of her dress. That damn dress.
I can't take my eyes off her. The intense green of the fabric envelops her like a spell, enhancing every curve of her body. The stones sparkle slightly under the soft lights of the passenger compartment, but they are not the ones that capture me. They are his eyes. Those eyes as cold as the Russian winter, yet capable of warming me more
