NERVES OF STEEL

CHAPTER 49- AN UNWAVERING BOND

                Her breath hitched in disbelief of how the space had been transformed into something utterly breathtaking in just a few minutes. The chairs had been all placed to the edge of the room and in the very middle the very large L-shaped sofas had been rearranged and merged into a single, oversized bed with six pillows at the top.

                 Layers of soft plush blankets and an abundance of velvet cushions in deep navy and silvery gray adorned it, inviting her to sink into their comfort. The room was bathed in dim blue lights, casting a serene, almost magical glow. Above them, the ceiling held a secret projector casting a soft, flickering light onto the massive screen that spanned an entire wall.

               A movies title hovered in elegant lettering, though her eyes couldn't focus on the words just yet. Around the room, delicate strings of fairy lights coiled like fireflies adding a soft sparkle that made her feel as though she'd stepped into a whole other world.

                  On a sleek side table beside the makeshift bed, a tray held a bottle of expensive red wine, two glasses and an assortment of snacks; candied nuts, chocolate truffles and freshly propped, buttery popcorn. The faint smell of vanilla and honey lingered in the air.

     He still remembers.

                  Damn it! He had successfully got her to feel impressed. It was simple but at the same time, it was everything. The amount planning this had required baffled her. Which made her realize that he had this in mind for a while now.

                   Meanwhile, Russo stood behind her watching her every reaction. She was so lost in admiration, he doubted if she still realized he was nearby. If for anything, he was glad she was impressed. 'It was the little things that mattered afterall' seemed to pay off in this situation.

                 Under the dim blue lights, his equally blue eyes glinted to the colour black every now and then, giving him a sort of ominous look aided with the sly smile tugged at his lips. Diane turned to him, the excitement in her eyes was simply beautiful.

      "What....what is all this?"
      "You clearly weren't impressed with dinner last time and I thought I'd up my game a little bit."
      "There's no giving up with you, is there?" She asked, letting out a small laugh.
      "Would you condemn a man who's only trying to be worthy of his lady?" Russo asked, arching a brow.
      "I'm not your lady." She rolled her eyes.
      "Eventually, tiger. Eventually."
      "This...this is a lot for a movie night."
      Russo smirked and reached out, brushing her hair behind her ear. "For you, Diane, it's barely even enough in my eyes. That's how much I treasure you." He stopped, taking in the smile on her lips at his words. She was simply beautiful. Then, his voice dropped lower, rougher.
       "Now, go sit down or l'll have to carry you there myself."
       "You don't even have to ask twice."

      Was that even supposed to be a threat?

            She thought, as she made her way to the inviting softness of the sheets. Diane settled on the bed, sinking into the feathery softness as Russo joined her. She settled comfortably, his eyes trailing her figure in his oversized T-Shirt. This moment didn't deserve to end. Ever!

     "I've been curious..." She started.
    "About?" He asked.
    "Why were you named Russo? It's not Russian."
    "It's Italian." He smiled, faintly.
    "What does it mean?"
    "In storytelling, the name Russo can evoke traits like strength and boldness."
    "So like you."
    "Aw, aren't you a sweet little—"
    "Shut up!" She frowned.
    "Yes ma'am." He nodded, lips pursed.
    "Care to explain why you're bearing an Italian   name, Mr Fedorcenko?"
    "My mother was half Italian."
    "Oh?"
    "Yes."
    "She must have been beautiful."
    "Very." A bittersweet smile broke through his lips and she couldn't help but notice.
    "What happened to her?" She asked, eager to know.
    "She....was attacked and murdered by some unknown assassins."
    "That's awful! I'm so sorry. They were never found?"
     He shook his head.
    "How old were you?"
    "Thirteen."
    "You must have missed her so much."