The room is silent but for the steady ticking of the clock on the bedside table. It is winter in Moscow and the small heater in the bedroom is not working properly. Irina pulls the sheet up, not to cover herself but for warmth. She rolls onto her side and props herself up on an elbow.

"Gerard Cuvee's not a Russian name," she says, the hint of a challenge in her voice.

He blinks lazily at her, then reaches out to pull her towards him. "My father was Belgian."

"Ah."

"My mother's a Muscovite; I was born here." His fingers skim across her ribcage. "Speaking of family, does your sister know you're here?"

"Which sister?"

"Elena."

"No."

"But Katya does?"

Irina shrugs, unrepentant. "I tell Katya everything."

"And you're not worried she'll tell Elena?"

"No." Irina throws off the sheet and straddles Gerard. "Why are you so worried about Elena?"

"I'd be a fool not to worry. She warned me to stay away from you."

Irina tilts her head. "Am I supposed to be flattered that you've defied the wrath of my oldest sister?"

"I went to the Academy with her; I know what she's capable of." He frames her face in his hands and smiles. "Imagine what she'd do if she knew I was in the process of corrupting her baby sister."

She laughs. "Shall I start calling you Humbert Humbert?"

"Who?" Gerard frowns.

"Never mind; it's not important." Her smile fades. "Do you think I'm too young for you?"

"What does Katya think?"

Irina rolls her eyes. "Katya doesn't care. She gave me a box of condoms and told me to be careful."

"I think I like Katya already."

"Well, I hope you don't like her too much."

Gerard rolls over, pinning her beneath him. "No. You're my favourite Derevko."

"So you're not sleeping with me just because you can't have Elena?" She doesn't think he is, but it never hurts to make sure.

"No, of course not."

"Good." Her lips curve upwards in a coy smile.

"You've bewitched me, you know," he says. His hand slides over her skin. "You're mine now."

"Really?" She arches an eyebrow.

"Yes." His thumb brushes circles over her hipbone before his hand moves lower. "Mine."

"I don't belong to anyone, Gerard." She's not sure the chill she feels is completely due to the temperature in the room.

"You belong to me." He captures her mouth in a kiss and the heat in her blood drowns out the small voice of warning at the back of her mind. Gerard is her first lover and their relationship is but three months old.

It's just pillow talk, she thinks. He doesn't mean half of what he says.

She decides she'll talk it over with Katya later, but for now Gerard is touching her and she can think of nothing else.

(Years later, in a cold cell in Kashmir, she will remember this night and the words she didn't believe, and she will finally understand.)