Page 140 of Interion

“You know, I think it would look better if you moved closer together,” he suggested, waving his hands to bring us closer. Thrilled, I took Zion's hand, and he looked at me, unsure what to do. The photographer raised the camera to his eyes again, then lowered it, studying us.

“Sorry, but the height difference isn't working. If I may say so... sir, you're very tall and she's quite short. I can't get you both in the frame.”

I glanced at Zion—six-foot-three—standing next to my five-foot-five. The difference really was significant.

“Maybe it would be better if she sat on the railing. Sir, you could put an arm around her to hold her steady. I bet the photo will turn out better.”

I frowned at the glass railing, then at the dizzying drop below. I looked at Zion—maybe this wasn't a good idea.

But before I could say anything, Zion stepped closer, placing his hands on my waist. With a little shriek escaping my lips, he lifted me and set me on the edge of the railing. His eyes locked on mine. I barely dared to breathe as his hands held me, promising safety. Zion wrapped an arm around my waist, and once I'd settled, he turned to face the camera, relaxed beside me. I clung to his shoulders as if my life depended on it. He seemed to notice my fear, because he whispered so softly that only I could hear.

“Don't be afraid. I would never let you fall.” At his words, my heart couldn't decide whether to calm down or beat faster. I willed it to calm, and it did—a little—but not enough to loosen my grip on his shoulder. The photographer gazed at us in wonder, then raised the camera to his eyes.

“Smile!” he called out cheerfully, and I, already grinning like an idiot, broke into a full-on manic smile—partly from sheer terror of falling and partly from the warmth of Zion's hands pressing into my waist. I pressed my cheek against his and bared my teeth like my life depended on it.

The photographer snapped two photos with his instant camera, the kind that spits out the picture right away. The first captured the panoramic view of the city—all the lights, the lake, the moon, with the two of us centered in the frame. The second focused on our faces and my wild, unhinged smile, while Zion remained composed beside me. I slid down to the ground, savoring every inch of contact with his body, but the moment the photographer handed us the two prints, I lunged for them, desperate to snatch them before Zion could see. I was mortified by my expression. In the second photo, he looked gorgeous—like a god in the night, in his black sweater and elegant coat—and I... looked like a complete maniac with a crazed grin and red, glistening eyes from crying just minutes before.

Unfortunately, he was faster and snatched the close-up, making it vanish in seconds. A satisfied smile played on his lips.

“Thanks for your time, and enjoy your dinner.” The photographer tapped his fist against his chest and headed off through the garden to continue his work.

I shot Zion an uncomfortable look.

“Could you trade photos with me?” I asked, shyly clutching the first full-body shot. In that one, my smile didn't look quite so sinister, and you could barely see my eyes since we were far from the camera. Zion raised an eyebrow, challenging me.

“No,” he replied simply, settling back in his chair.

“Please! I think I like the one you have better!” I pouted as I sat down.

“And lose your spontaneous smile? No way. I'm going to frame this one,” he teased, clearly enjoying himself.

“Please, Zion. I look horrible. Keep the first one—we look better in the first one,” I grumbled, holding out the image and waving it at him.

“Kay, don't make me start complimenting your beauty, because if I do, I might not be able to stop tonight. Just let me keep the photo. I really liked it. Truly.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but the waiter arrived with our plates, and the smell of the food stole my attention. Reluctantly, I tucked the photo into the inner pocket of my coat while Zion savored his victory. After we settled in and started eating, silence fell over us. Since I didn't want silence that night, I took a sip of wine and seized the chance to ask him about something that had been nagging at me ever since I'd learned about Kaori Yamamoto.

I cleared my throat to get his attention.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

He took a sip from his glass and wiped his mouth with a napkin before responding:

“Ask away!”

“When I got to the surgical room and saw the state Miss Yamamoto was in, I was terrified I wouldn't be able to keep my promise. There was a moment when I could have lost her because there weren't enough people to help me.” I swallowed hard. “Do you know what saved me?”

“No.” His brow was furrowed, but he seemed intent on catching every word I said.

“The necklace.”

His jaw clenched for such a brief instant that I could barely believe I'd caught it. He said nothing, just kept looking at me, waiting for whatever I was going to say next.

“I saw the necklace around her neck and recharged it. It stopped the bleeding and let me continue the surgery even without help.” I thought for a second about Serguei and decided to correct myself, as if easing a small weight off my conscience. “Or almost without help—one person did help me.”

A moment of silence stretched between us. Zion stared at me, searching my face, his eyes full of unspoken questions. He seemed to know there was a question buried in what I'd said, but he wasn't going to answer it unless I asked outright. I wasn't eager to ask either, but between posing the question or going without an answer, I chose to ask.

“You gave her my necklace.” I stated the obvious—so obvious I almost slapped my forehead.