Title: First Impressions |
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Epilogue |
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Epilogue June 1993 Irina Derevko loosely fastens her hair in a sloppy bun, preparing for bed. She has left the back of her neck open to hungry predators, and she’s only half surprised when she feels his lips on it. She doesn’t flinch, and she hears his frustrated sigh. She never flinches, but he keeps trying, hoping to someday catch her off-guard. She’s always on guard, as should he be. She looks out the window at the lights of Paris, twinkling in that way that only the lights of Paris do. He rests his chin on her shoulder and snakes his arms around her waist. She can tell that he’s interested in more than sleeping when they get into bed, but she’s not sure she’s in the mood for that tonight. Then he says the three little words that always help to bring arousal forth. “You were right.” “About what?” she asks with a sly grin, turning around to face him. “Sydney and Michael. She landed at Heathrow this morning, and she’s staying at Michael’s flat. I don’t know how you managed it, but they’re together.” “I didn’t manage it, not really. I could only do so much, I could only orchestrate their meeting. Beyond that, it was up to them and to…” she pauses, searching for the right word, “fate.” He nods and leads her to their bed. His mood seems to have become introspective, and he is content to cuddle. This suits her, as her mind is now wandering to Sydney and the life she is living without her. “Thank you,” he whispers into the back of her neck. “I just want my daughter to be happy,” she says, kissing his hand. “I don’t want her to be alone anymore. I want her to have someone in her life who loves her like she deserves to be loved.” “And that’s what I want for my son, too. Thank you for giving that to them.” END
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