“What is it?”

She smiled ruefully. “Oh, it's nothing. I bit my lip earlier. It still stings a little.”

He looked closer at the tiny red imprint with its bruised, purple outline.

“Sorry.”

“It's fine,” Katerina replied, still smiling.

“Miss Valentino…” Christopher began.

“You don't have to,” she interrupted.

“Have to what?” he asked.

“Call me that. I think… I think I would like to be your friend.” Her teeth fell

into the scab on her lip as she sucked air into her lungs.

Christopher could only blink in silent shock. “So, I should call you Katerina

then?” he asked at last.

“Yes, please.” Her cheeks turned pink, but her gaze remained steady.

She does want this little intimacy. Good. So do I. “My name is Christopher, you know,” he pointed out.

“Yes, your mother told me. May I?” Her shy expression spoke volumes of

insecurity.

“Certainly.”

She smiled at him. Beamed, actually, her face lighting up like a star in the night. His hand still rested on her face, and she leaned her cheek against him.

Her warm, soft touch elicited words in complete comfort that should have

evoked nerves. “What would you say, Katerina, if I asked you to accompany me

on a drive one day?”

Her smile evaporated, and she lowered her head, shattering the magnetic

connection. The light dawning between them blinked out with the effect of extinguishing a candle. “I can't. My father would never allow it. I'm sorry.”

Christopher ran his thumb over her cheek. “Is he so very strict then? Why does he let you come to these events? Is he here?”

She swallowed. “Oh, no. He rarely leaves the house. I'm here because there

are many women around. Actually,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “he thinks

I'm with your mother right now.”

“Ah. Does he know she has a son?” Christopher asked, trying to recapture lightness since the intoxicating connection had been broken.

“I've never mentioned it,” she replied.

I wonder why not. How odd. “Katerina, don't you think it might be a good idea for you to broach the subject of a… male friend with your father at some

point? Does he not want you to find a husband one day?”

“I think he does not want that,” she replied. Something he couldn't quite name flashed across her face. “He wants me to remain with him, to run the household, you see. My future is of little interest to him. I'm sorry, Christopher.”

How selfish of him… and how sad for her. “Don't be sorry. It's not your fault he's unreasonable. He cannot keep you prisoner forever. Even the strictest parents eventually let their children go. You'll be no different. Consider it, Katerina. It's usually best to be honest with people.”

“He's my father. I know how to handle him best,” she snapped.

Goodness. That hit a nerve. He backed off instantly. “Of course. You're quite right. So…” he released her face and wrapped her arm around his instead, leading her down the hallway again, “when will I see you next? Is there another

public event where we might meet 'accidentally'?”

“Perhaps.” She paused to think without breaking stride. “There is a ball next

week. I've received an invitation, but I haven't decided whether to attend.”

“I haven't heard of any,” he replied. “What is it?”

“Well it's largely for diplomats, you see,” Katerina explained, gesturing with

one hand. “Lots of foreigners. I don't like it much because the music is poor and

the swirl of languages makes my head spin.”

“How many languages do you speak?” he blurted, not sure where the asinine

question had arisen from.

She blinked at the sudden change of topic. “Myself? Three. Can you guess?”

“English, Italian and… French?”

“Excellent guesses. You are correct.” She rewarded him with a pretty smile.

She seemed willing to indulge his curiosity, so he continued questioning.

“Are you fluent in Italian?”

“It's all I speak at home. I learned English from my nanny. Though both my