The Warmth of Russia

~8~

In all honesty, Lily felt like royalty walking the Trianon hall at night. The gentle slivers of the silver moonlight danced the floor, as it did in Marie's time. The paintings and décor just gave it a pleasant feel as she made her way to her room.

She really didn't view this trip as a business one like Ivan said. It was more of a well needed vacation from the office. All afternoon they joked and talked about anything and everything. No war was mentioned, no crimes, or politics. Life, that was the topic most. Along with playing with Jeanne. All of that with a five-star meal was what Lily really needed.

"Do you think she'll be able to find the truth?" Lily heard Francis say.

Lily glanced up to see an open door, probably their bedchamber. Peeking inside, she saw Francis laying on Brie's lap as she penned in a small book.

"I believe so. It's more of herself in finding it like myself." Brie said.

They were talking about her.

"Seems like her dreams are leaning toward Catherine the Great and Anastasia Romanov." Francis said.

"Oui. I believe they are. But she must gain that herself." Brie reminded him, "The room is the key."

"Think Ivan will snap if she does?" He asked, looking at her.

"Non." Brie replied, setting down the book. "The way he looks at her is the same way you look at me. It's desire, want, need, and love."

Lily pulled away from the door. Anastasia and Catherine, why on earth would her dreams be of them? It made no sense, but the more her mind pondered it, the more it did.

Her mind wrapped around the thought, could she really be dreaming of them? Royalties of Russia? As she saw her door, the last violent nightmare raced her mind, how they were all shot and killed. She shuddered, wanting to rid the nightmare away.

At that moment, all Lily wanted was to lay in her bed and... her thought was taken as she gazed at Ivan. He sat at the small table looking over papers and books, rubbing the back of his neck.

She just soaked him in, how his brow furrowed in concentration, the tightness of the T-shirt on him, his keen eyes never leaving the pages. The thought of her running her hands through his messy hair rolled through her mind. To rub his shoulders and have him relax against her, to feel him pressed-

"Now don't think that way, Lily." she scolded herself.

Lily crossed the room over to him, hoping to see what he was doing and get her ideas of what was going on.

"Privet podsolnechnik." he said, never glancing up to her.

"Hey Ivan, you do realize it's late?" she said, trying to see over him.

"Da." he replied, shuffling the papers away, "Last minute work."

Well that sucked. He tucked the papers away before she even had a chance to read them. Blast his senses and knowing her intent.

"Are you mad that I put them away?" he questioned with that damn smile of his.

Yes. "No, if I need to know, you'll tell me." What in bloody hell was that? Was she really letting him control this?

"You'll find out soon enough, Lily." he leaned back against the large couch.

The sight of him being vulnerable, his eyes closed and hands rubbing his face, his throat bare to the world, his chest out to her reach just made her want to jump him. To sit on his lap and kiss the ever-living daylights out of him. But he would never allow-