Page 73 of Ghost Ribbon

A fresh wave of panic prickled up my spine. I looked around the bathroom like something helpful might magically appear out of nowhere. Nothing. Just folded towels, expensive soap, and me, stranded and stupid and very aware of the fact that I couldn’t walk back out there wrapped in nothing.

Then I noticed it.

A shirt.

Folded on the nearby bed just beyond the half-open bathroom door, like it had been left there deliberately.

I stepped out cautiously, water still dripping from the ends of my curls, and reached for it.

It was one of his. Black, soft, far too large. The fabric smelled like him.

My cheeks flared as soon as I pulled it on.

It swallowed me.

The hem brushed my knees. The sleeves covered half my hands until I pushed them back.

I stood there for a second just clutching at the front of it, then I looked around, but he wasn’t there.

My heart gave a strange little jump. I noticed the balcony door standing slightly open, sheer curtains stirring faintly in the night air.

I moved toward it slowly.

When I stepped out onto the balcony, I saw him immediately.

Alexei was leaning against the railing, one hand resting loosely on the dark metal, the other holding a cigarette between two fingers. Smoke curled up in thin pale ribbons around him, vanishing into the night. City lights flickered far below, painting the lines of his face in gold and shadow.

He turned at the sound of the door.

And then he just… looked at me. His gaze dropped from my wet curls to the oversized shirt draped around my body and stayed there long enough to make my throat go dry.

I tightened my grip on the shirt without meaning to.

Alexei took a slow drag from the cigarette, exhaled, and said, “Come here.”

And I obeyed.

My feet moved before my pride had time to object. I crossed the balcony slowly, stopping a couple of steps away from him.

His eyes flicked down once more to the shirt. “It suits you,” he said.

I looked down automatically, cheeks burning. “It’s huge.”

A faint curve touched his mouth. “You’re small.”

I stared somewhere around his collarbone and tried to think of something normal to say. My thoughts were no help at all.

In the end, the first thing that came out was the thing that had been quietly panicking in the back of my mind since I stepped out of the shower.

“Wh… where will I sleep?”

His eyes lifted fully back to mine. “On my bed.”

“Your bed?”

He took another drag of the cigarette, watching me over the dim orange ember. “Yes.”

I don’t know what expression crossed my face, but something about it made his gaze sharpen with amusement. “You look frightened,” he said.