"I still say the tambourine is too strident," I repeat, pacing to the other end of the room. We've been at it for a few hours by this point, and I feel a strange mix of manic energy and exhaustion.

"So you don't think the low pass helped?" Adrian asks.

I shake my head. "It sounds too compressed now. If it wasn't a folk song, it would probably fit."

"Okay, I see what you're saying. Tambourine is out."

He plays back the first two lines of the chorus, then pauses and turns his chair to face me.

"It's too empty now," he states, and I agree.

"What if you bring it back at the last beat of each bar, but turn it down?" I muse.

"I still think it would be too empty."

Hmm, he's probably right. He plays the same lines again and I resume my pacing, timing each fall of my foot to the beat of the music. Or I suppose, the current lack thereof. If only we could get actual foot stomps in there.

"That's it!" I exclaim.

"Yeah?" Adrian asks.

"Those wooden box drum things."

He pauses. "You mean a cajon?"

I honestly have no idea what they're called, but he sounds pretty sure. "Maybe?"

I pull out my phone to Google a picture.

"Yep," I confirm, "I meant a cajon."

Adrian gives a thoughtful nod. "You might be right. I'll run up a test track with some samples, and if we like it I'll have David record a couple bars when they get back."

I nod absently while he gets to work. Since my input won't be required for a couple minutes, I check my notifications.

There's an email from the tour manager which I'll read later, and a picture from Dimitri. I know from what Mia shared of his schedule that he was due to appear on a celebrity talk show today, to promote the tour and generally present himself for adoration. He's sent me a selfie from the very recognisable red leather couch on the set. Normally I'd respond in kind, showing him what my day holds. But...

"Dimitri's going to hear that we worked together, isn't he?" I look up from my phone to gauge Adrian's reaction. He winces at the sound of Dimitri's name, though it seems like an automatic response.

"He should probably hear it from you first," Adrian replies slowly. "But yeah."

"You're probably right."

"Great."

I stop for a moment to consider: would Dimitri be upset that I'm here? I mean, I would imagine it wouldn't be a great feeling to have your girlfriend working with your ex. But he sounded pretty settled about Adrian when we last spoke, so maybe it won't be that bad. And of course Adrian's right; I should tell Dimitri myself.

So I run my fingers through my hair, then raise my phone to snap a picture. I make sure I'm in the foreground with the room and the mixing desk in the background, and give my best smile.

"Adrian," I call through my teeth. "Smile for the camera."

Honestly I look pretty great, even if Adrian's visibly busy glaring at me. So I send it to Dimitri, with the caption: Not sure if I'm allowed to take pictures in here, but I'm helping Adrian produce a song!

Then I consciously decide to put my phone away, and resolve not to think about it until we're done here. Which proves surprisingly easy, because I'm immediately sucked back in when Adrian plays the lines back, now including the cajon.

"That works great!" I say, once he's played it through.

"I like it too," he nods. "I just need to take some of the bass out the cello now to balance it out."

"Good call. Should we start on the voices?"

He clicks a few more things on the computer. "Sure. Let me add some basic EQ and we'll go from there."

We've made a ton of progress by the time Morgan and David get back from their lunch, because Adrian had the foresight to text them and tell them to take their time. He seems genuinely excited to play the song back for them, which is sweet. I just hope they like the direction we've taken it in.

"Wow," David says simply, when it's done. He and Morgan lock eyes, and some silent couple communication seems to take place. Watching them causes a pang in my chest, and I find myself having to look away.

"I've never heard us sound like that," Morgan says softly. "Thank you both."

All I can do is smile, but Adrian lightheartedly brushes off the compliment.

"If you think it sounds great now, I can't wait to hear it with harmonies. You guys ready to get back in the booth?"

We get back to it. Adrian runs through some arrangements with them, and David has a few suggestions. Somehow they only need to practice them once before Morgan indicates they're ready to record. I wish I learned new material that quickly.

Then, since I don't know anything about recording beyond the basics, I stand back and watch Adrian work. And honestly I think I learn more from watching him in an hour than I have from my past year of working. I'm itching to ask questions, but I don't want to break his concentration. So I take out my phone and start typing notes, including questions I'm planning to search later.

Once the harmonies have been recorded, Adrian has David do a couple runs with the cajon. We end up with a verse, chorus and bridge on the very first try of each, which is incredibly impressive.

"Got it in one," Adrian says to the duo through the mic. "I think you guys are my favourites."

Morgan laughs.

"Anyway," Adrian continues, "Rose and I will get to work on these, so you're welcome to head home. I don't want you guys sitting around twiddling your thumbs."

"Thanks man," David replies. "We appreciate it."

He exits the booth and gives Morgan an adorably goofy high five.

"You sounded so good!" she tells him with the biggest smile, and they leave the room while holding hands.

"God, they're so cute," I say to Adrian once the door closes.

"Tell me about it," he sighs. Then he gives me a sidelong glance. "I know why I sound all grumpy about it, but what about you? Trouble in paradise?"

I roll my eyes, but make a mental note to check myself around him. "I'm here to work, Adrian. Not to discuss my relationship."

"Right," he replies, not sounding remotely convinced. "Except you're the one who brought it up. So."

I sigh. He's right, of course. "Let's just get to work."

"Sure."

Adrian sits back down at the computer and opens the files we just recorded. But while he imports them into the mix, something seems to grab his attention.

"Holy shit, I didn't see the time!"

I pull out my phone. "It's four?"

"Yes," Adrian drily replies. "It's four, and we haven't eaten. What do you feel like?"

I frown, considering his point. Slowly I realise that I didn't even have lunch, and now that he's mentioned it, my stomach immediately morphs into a black hole. But I try to downplay it.

"I'm up for anything," I shrug, but my stomach growls. The sound of it is dampened by the perfect acoustics, so I don't think Adrian heard. But I might need to amp up the urgency.

"What's close and quick?" I ask.

"Pizza," he says immediately. "There's a great artisanal place around the corner, and we can go ham since the label's paying."

"Sounds good to me," I say, and my stomach agrees. "Can I get Vance to bring me some coffee while we wait though?"

Maybe the caffeine will tide me over until the pizzas arrive.

"Sure," Adrian says. "Uh. What's a Vance?"

"Friendly intern," I reply. "He's the one who escorted me down here. Seemed like a pretty big fan of yours."

Adrian shrugs noncommittally. "Yeah, just call Camille at the front desk and ask her to send him."

"Cool. You want anything?"

Adrian's face darkens. "They won't let me drink in here any more, so no." Something tells me he's not talking about coffee.

So I call Camille and relay my request, and she sounds happy to help. I'm pretty sure Vance will be overjoyed to come in here, and I might even be able to convince Adrian to let him look around or something. In the meantime Adrian phones the pizza place to order. Then we carry on with the song while we wait.

"Okay, I added the real cajon," Adrian says. "I think it was an excellent idea."

He plays a verse and chorus through for me, and I have to admit that it fits perfectly in to the vibe of the song. David's voice is deep and smoky, while Morgan's tone is almost operatic. Their voices are perfectly offset by the guitar and cello accompaniment.

"Yeah, it's sounding great," I say. "Time to add in the harmonies?"

"Time to add in the harmonies," Adrian agrees, and turns back to the computer.

A knock sounds at the door, and I eagerly walk over to let Vance in with my blessed caffeine.

I almost groan as I take the first sip of my cappuccino. "Have I ever told you you're my favourite intern?"

Vance chuckles nervously. "Thanks, Miss Hathaway."

Immediately I narrow my eyes. "Vance. What did I say last time?"

He's still hovering in the doorway, and he leans over the threshold to whisper his response. "Yeah well last time you weren't producing a song."

I sigh. "Adrian," I call over my shoulder. "Do you mind if Vance comes in and takes a look around?"

"Have at it," Adrian shoots back distractedly. "As long as he doesn't touch anything. Door needs to be closed for playback anyway."

Vance's eyes go wide, and I step aside so he can enter the room. The look he gives me falls just shy of reverent, and I have to contain the laugh that rises in my throat. I take another gulp of coffee instead, letting its warmth radiate through me while Vance carefully circles the room.

"Okay!" Adrian exclaims. In my periphery, I see Vance jump, but Adrian doesn't seem to notice. "Harmonies are in. Ready?" He swivels his chair around to talk to me, and finally catches sight of Vance.

I step forward to introduce them. "This is Vance, he's the intern I mentioned. Vance, this is Adrian Ivashkov."

Adrian smiles, immediately charming. "Hi Vance, it's nice to meet you. Thanks for helping Rose out."

Vance seems to have frozen. But after several seconds he manages some kind of... bow? It makes Adrian's lips quirk and I have to take another sip of coffee to keep the secondhand embarassment from consuming me.

"Mr Ivashkov," Vance chokes out. "It's nice to meet you."

Adrian keeps looking at him, his grin widening. I feel like I should intervene.

"Are you going to play the harmony?" I remind Adrian quickly, and both he and Vance turn to me when I speak.

"Oh, yeah," Adrian says to me, then addresses Vance again to explain. "Rose is helping me produce the new single for a band we just signed. We'll use it to set the tone for their upcoming album, so the label can start planning strategy and marketing."

Honestly this is news to me, I thought we were recording an album. But at least I know what's happening now.

"That's so cool," Vance says. He's sounding a little more like himself, so hopefully the playback will give him enough time to pull himself together. As Adrian turns back to the computer to hit play, I catch Vance's eye and raise my eyebrows. He pulls a face, which makes me smile, and then the music starts playing.

David's guitar comes in with rhythmic strumming, setting a steady beat against the cajon in the background. Morgan sweeps her bow lightly across the cello strings, adding something more like texture than any noticeable melody. And then their voices come in. The beginning of the first verse remains the same, since Adrian only added the harmonies at the end leading into the chorus. So I amuse myself by watching Vance's face as he listens to it for the first time.

On the last line of the verse, the main melody splits beautifully. Adrian has arranged it so that David is harmonising with Morgan's lines, and vice versa. It continues into the chorus, bringing a kind of gravity to the song. And while it sounds good, I have trouble distinguishing the difference between the lines of each singer, since both voices are now present at any given time.

"Thoughts?" Adrian asks, stopping the playback.

I take a moment to think how to phrase it, but it throws me off when Adrian chuckles.

"What?" I ask.

"I can tell by your face you don't like it."

I shrug. "Isn't that why you wanted me here?"

"Exactly, Little Maestro," he replies, pointing a finger at me. "Don't worry about trying to be polite."

Well I mean, if he says so.

"I'm not getting enough of their individual voices coming through," I tell him. "They sound great together, but I want to be able to hear them on their own as well. Right now it's blended into a generic mush."

"Okay ouch," he laughs.

"I thought it sounded good," Vance chimes in.

"Exactly right," Adrian tells him with a wink. "It sounds good, but we're going for fantastic. So Rose, do you mean you want to hear less of the harmonies?"

I purse my lips. "Not necessarily. Let me see the filters."

Obligingly, Adrian opens the effects rack on Morgan's harmony. I step forward to hover over his shoulder, bending down so I can see better. My eyes run down the list: EQ, compression, reverb, pitch correction... and then a few others that I'm not familiar with. I shake my head, frustrated at my lack of technical knowledge here.

"It sounds like..." I start, frustration colouring my tone as I search for the words "...like you made Morgan's voice lower to better match David's, and his voice higher to better match hers?"

"Good ear," Adrian murmurs, running his cursor down the list of effects. He disables a couple, then switches over to David's track and does the same. Then his phone vibrates. He slips it out of his pocket to glance at the screen.

"Vance," he calls in a sing song voice, tucking his phone away. "Would you be a dear and grab our pizzas from reception?"

"Of course, Mr Ivashkov."

"Just Adrian," he admonishes, "or you don't get any pizza."

Vance makes an odd sound before leaving the room. I look at Adrian and sigh.

"You having fun?"

"Oh, absolutely," he grins widely. "It's just so cute when they get flustered."

Adrian and I continue to work on the song until Vance returns with our dinner, which proves to be an incredibly effective distraction. In spite of the fact that it was only two of us, Adrian ordered four pizzas because he couldn't decide on the flavours. Which suits me fine because my stomach sounds like a chainsaw. We clear some space on the desk and lay out the open boxes. If I wasn't so hungry, it would feel like nothing short of sacrilege.

But instead of dwelling on just how close the melted cheese is to the state of the art equipment, I grab a slice and forcibly remind myself that I have to chew before swallowing. My mouth floods with saliva as I take my first bite.

Holy fuck. This pizza could start a religion.

I try to slow down and savour the taste, but it's just so good that when I blink my hand is empty. My second slice barely lasts longer, topped with the best bacon I've ever had in my life. But the third slice I try-fearuring a creamy burrata that pairs perfectly with the unmistakably earthy taste of truffles-almost sends me to my knees. I practically hear angels singing as I take the last bite, but the choral verse fades as I look up to find both Vance and Adrian staring at me.

"I think you just set a world record," Adrian says, amazed.

I blink, realising I just inhaled three slices of pizza in a matter of seconds.

"I'm kind of hungry," I say lamely with a self conscious shrug. But their awe doesn't stop me from walking over to grab another piece.

Vance's wide eyes follow me. "That was seriously impressive," he says. "How are you not about to puke?"

"Hey, production requires a lot of brain power," I say defensively. "I've got to refuel."

"You heard her," Adrian chuckles when Vance opens his mouth again. "Refuel away, Little Maestro. I'm glad you like the pizza."

Our dinner disappears in record time, and I'm pretty sure I eat almost two entire pizzas on my own. I even write a note on my phone with the pizzeria's name and number, because life would be mighty bleak if I never tasted heaven again. Vance takes the empty boxes and leaves, and Adrian and I get back to work. After several more hours of back and fourth, Adrian plays the entire track back. Instead of looking at the computer to check the levels or whatever, he's watching me intently. I try not to let it unnerve me.

"Notes?" Adrian asks when the music fades into silence.

I shake my head. "Nothing more from me."

He grins. "Me neither."

I look around the room I've been in for hours, and find that Adrian's grin is contagious.

"So does that mean we're done?" I ask.

"We're done," he confirms, raising his palm. It takes me a second to realise that he's offering a high five, but then the clap rings through room as our palms connect.

"Thank you for your help, little Maestro. You saved my bacon."

"Yeah well," I say with a shrug, pulling my hand back because I'm really not sure about touching him. "I didn't really know what I was doing, but I'm happy to help."

Adrian sighs. "Back to that again?" Then his expression clears. "You'll be paid for your time. I'm assuming you won't have a rate prepared so I'll submit a generous one in your stead." I splutter, but he ignores me. "Think you'd be interested in helping finish the album when it's greenlit?"

I swear, my brain just froze from the influx of information there. "I..."

My eyes feel like they're going to fall out of my head. Whether I like Adrian or not, this is a huge opportunity. And honestly Adrian might be kind of okay, just a little weird. Great taste in pizza.

"I'd love to work on the rest of the album," I say carefully. "But the timeline might not match up. I'm going to LA in a couple of weeks, and after that I'm on the road for six months."

"You're going on tour with him?" Adrian asks.

Why does he sound surprised?

"Yeah," I answer simply.

"Interesting. Maybe I could email the tracks to you, have you consult digitally when you have time..." he trails off, seemingly lost in thought.

"I can give you my email address," I say, "but I can't promise I'll have time. The schedule is pretty tight."

"We'll work around it," Adrian says with a flip of his hand. "Have you decided on your rate for the tour? Because personally I think you should make sure they're just a little unhappy with the number."

"I don't even know where to start," I admit.

Adrian smirks. "Send me your email. Oh, and did... Dimitri request you specifically?"

"He did," I nod, trying not to let on that I noticed his awkward pause before saying Dimitri's name.

"I'll send you some suggestions," Adrian says breezily. "Now go home, and have a glass of something to congratulate yourself for a damn fine day's work."

I thank him and take my leave, walking back up through the foyer. I wave to Camille as I pass by her desk, then I'm out the door in the fresh night air. I pause on the pavement by my car, taking a lungful. Then I open my door and plonk into the driver's seat. It's only once I'm cradled in the familiar upholstery that the weight of exhaustion hits me. It's the kind of tired I can feel in my bones. Luckily the drive

home isn't too long.

It's eight thirty when I arrive back home, and my pace is sluggish as I make my way up the stairs. It's still too early for me to go to bed, even though I'm tired. I really don't want my brain to wake me up at the ass crack of dawn because I fell asleep too early. So I take my time washing my face and getting changed. Then I make myself a cup of coffee and curl up on the sofa to watch some series.

In spite of my resolve not to go to bed, after about twenty minutes my eyelids start to feel really heavy. The familiar theme song begins to sound like it's playing from really far away, and my mind slips into darkness.

I jolt awake to some incredibly loud noise. My neck complains bitterly about the angle it was at, and my right arm is full of pins and needles as I reach for my phone that's busy vibrating on the coffee table. A single glance at the time before I answer tells me that I've been asleep for almost two hours. I feel like death.

"Hello?" I answer groggily.

Dimitri's voice sounds in my ear. "Did I wake you up?"

It has the same effect on me as an electric shock.

"No!" I reply a little too loudly, immediately on my feet. I wince at my volume, trying to sound a little more controlled as I continue. "I mean I'd rather talk to you than sleep anyway."

A chuckle on the other end, and I have to swallow the memories it elicits.

"Well then buzz me in, and we can talk all night."

I blink as his words register, but don't quite believe it's true. "You're downstairs?"

"I'm downstairs," he confirms, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

And I don't care that he can probably hear my resulting mad rush across the room to hit the buzzer and let him in. But I hear it sound on his end of the line, and the sound of him opening the door.

"Thank you Roza, I'll see you now."

My heart skips a beat. I'll see you now.

The words are like a talisman glowing in my chest. I stand there for a second, bouncing on my toes, blood already singing through my veins. The fact that Dimitri is in my building, when I haven't seen him in what feels like an eternity, and I'm up here like a kid on Christmas morning. It's ridiculous, but I don't even want to waste the time it would take for him to come up to my apartment. I want to spend every second with him. So the instant it occurs to me, I grab my keys and sprint for the stairwell.

I find Dimitri halfway down the building, and I'm already seriously out of breath. My heart is pounding, and I can't tell if it's from the mad rush to get down here, or just from the sight of his face.

"Roza?" Dimitri says, and that's all it takes for me to fling myself at him. I feel those long arms wrapping around me, and the solid surety of his body against mine. He's like the first sip of coffee on a really long gig.

"I'm pretty sure I remember the way, you know," he chuckles into my hair. "You didn't have to come down and get me."

Any response I might have made is swallowed by the rising wave of emotion in my chest. At the sound of his laugh, my heart squeezes. Even though I tried to commit it to memory, somehow it just can't compare to the real thing. And it seems I'm not the only one lost in the sweetness of our reunion. Dimitri's ribs expand beneath my palms, and he takes a lungful of the smell of my hair. He murmurs something in Russian.

God, I missed that. Imagine his face if I started taking lessons.

I laugh quietly. "Translation?"

He burrows his face into my hair and breathes his response into my ear, making me tingle. "I said." He switches sides, and my other ear warms with his breath. "You smell fucking good."

And then he propels us into the wall of the stairwell.

He's all over me, his hands roaming over my body and his lips moving up my neck. It's incredibly sudden, and deliciously novel. My mind had still been trying to get over the fact that he's here, but it soon catches up to his line of thinking. The feeling of his hands, the undercurrent of need in his movements. My breathing picks up and I tilt my head back to give him better access to my mouth. One of his hands slides up my shirt, meanwhile his lips capture my own, and my mouth is filled with the heat of his tongue.

He's greedy tonight, and a little sloppier than usual. I imagine it's for the same reason that his accent is heavier: he must be tired. The knowledge that he came here to see me regardless fills my chest with warmth. God, I love him. I compare his current lack of restraint to that infuriating control he normally shows, and my legs go weak. Because I get it: I've missed him that much too. And I'm pretty sure he'd fuck me against the wall right now if I let him.

But the slow echo of footsteps coming up the stairs registers in my brain. I don't know which of my neighbours is about to find us, but I'd really rather avoid that conversation.

"Dimitri," I murmur as he moves his mouth to the other side of my neck. "Someone's coming."

Instead of pulling away, he grabs my bottom lip between his teeth. "So?" he grits out ."I've missed you. I want you. Now."

And it's mind numbingly hot. My body responds to his words, as though it's any kind of rational argument. In fact part of me would do anything to give in, just so I don't have to let him go. But there really isn't any question about it. Besides the fact that I'd have to look whatever neighbour in the eye after this, he's famous. And I'd really rather not end up on the front page with him.

"It's two more floors to my place," I say, trying to pull away. "Let's go. I'd rather not give one of my neighbours a heart attack."

Dimitri sighs, but releases me. I grab his hand as a consolation prize, fighting back my grin and starting up the steps. I'm only a couple steps up when Dimitri speaks.

"Yeah, I'm going to need you to walk behind me."

I turn around with a laugh, but the look on his face shuts me right up. I meekly let him pass me, and I don't say a word when he all but drags me along behind him up the stairs. I suppose I should be grateful that he only takes them two at a time. With his long ass legs of his, he could probably hop to the top of each flight. But it does mean we reach my apartment in record time. He lets go of my wrist so I can unlock the door, and once we're inside I have to remind him to take off his jacket since he starts heading through to my living room immediately.

"Are you okay?" I ask, once we're seated on the sofa.

Dimitri's emotions seem more settled than they were earlier, and that single-minded determination to take me up against a wall has given way to him holding me tightly against his chest, as though he never wants to let me go again. And while sex with him is fantastic, snuggling together on my sofa is a different kind of intimacy; one I'm currently very grateful for.

"Now that I'm here with you where I belong?" he says, with a smile I can feel against the crown of my head. "I'm extravagant."

I chuckle at his strange choice of words, and lean forward a little so I can sneak a glance at him. He's already looking down at me, and his gorgeous eyes draw mine like magnets. And then I frown.

"Wait, are you sure you're okay?" I ask again, and this time I'm not kidding.

Dimitri's eyes are bloodshot. I mean sure, it could be because he's tired. But paired with how big his pupils currently are in a well-lit room and his strange speech patterns tonight, I'm starting to wonder if it isn't something else.

"I'm fine, Roza,"he insists, "Really." But even as he's speaking, his tongue starts toying with the corner of his mouth like it has a mind of its own. "Actually, do you know what I feel like? Ice-cream. We should go get ice-cream."

My eyes flick over his face again, and I consider where he was tonight.

"What time did you finish shooting that talk show?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

Dimitri's immediately sold on the new topic, and doesn't seem to notice the look on my face. "We wrapped at around nine," he tells me enthusiastically. "Then they had a drinks thing after. But I only stayed for a little. I wanted to see you."

I do smile, but it fades quickly as my unease grows.

"Seriously, I really need ice-cream," Dimitri insists. "What's your favourite flavour? I'll ask Mia to bring us some."

"Don't bother Mia," I tell him quickly. "It's late, and I've got ice-cream in the freezer."

Dimitri sits back on the sofa, mollified. "Okay," he agrees.

I brace myself. "Hey Comrade?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you high?"

I give him a second to respond, but he remains quiet. And when I glance over to gauge his reaction, he looks almost cartoonishly guilty. Which would be kind of funny if I didn't suddenly feel like someone sucker punched my in the gut. I've missed him so desperately much, and now he's here but he's not him. God, did he drive himself here, like this? Would I even have seen him tonight if he'd been sober?

"You look so disappointed," Dimitri says softly, touching my cheek.

I close my eyes to hide my expression from him. He's in no state to talk about this right now and I don't want to make him paranoid. Heaven knows I've had bad trips, and I don't want him to feel even worse tomorrow.

So I pull on a smile, and it takes less effort than I thought once I see the earnest expression on his face.

"You said you wanted ice-cream, right?"

Dimitri nods.

"Okay," I say, standing up and holding out my hand to him. "Then let's go grab some spoons."

He is so tall. Just the sight of him in my little kitchen impresses upon me just how much space this man takes up. So I tell him to wait in the corner with his spoon, and fish the carton out the freezer. Soon enough his chin is on my shoulder and his chest against my back as we take turns loading our spoons from the ice-cream on my kitchen counter. It's slightly too hard, and it takes a bit of effort to pry each mouthful loose. But Dimitri's noises of appreciation in my ear make it all worthwhile.

"I can't remember the last time I had ice-cream," he says softly as I employ some serious elbow grease to fill my spoon again. But his tone is so sad, I can't help but sneak a glance at his face. He's busy staring down at the counter.

"It reminds me of when I was a kid. Before I had to worry about having too much sugar."

"I think life can get really tough without a little sweetness every now and then," I say gently. Dimitri sets his spoon on the counter and burrows his face into my neck.

"God, Roza, I'm so fucking tired."

I simply reach a hand up to stroke his hair, and let him talk.

"I know this was a dumb decision," he continues, his voice slightly muffled by my skin. "But I needed something to keep me going, or I swear I would have crawled under that stupid buffet table to get some sleep."

The anguish in his voice tugs on my heart. I turn around and pull him to me, wrapping my arms around those broad shoulders that aren't strong enough to withstand all this pressure.

"I can't imagine how hard it must be," I tell him softly.

"I think you might be able to understand some of it." I feel him smiling a little, and I swear I feel myself start to love him even more. "You're on my mind every second of the day," he continues. "I miss you so much, and there's not a thing I can do about it. Then you sent me that picture today."

"The one in the recording studio?" I ask.

He nods. "I was so jealous. You working with Adrian, him getting to spend hours with you when the only time I can see you is in photos... God it drove me crazy. And I'm so exhausted that I can hardly think straight in the first place."

"I get it, Comrade," I whisper. "It's all right. Let's just go to bed, okay?"

"Okay, króshka."

I show him to the bathroom and thank my lucky stars I have a spare toothbrush to give him. After showing him where everything is, I leave him to get ready for bed while I quickly go clean up the kitchen. After which I look through my closet to see if I have anything that would even vaguely fit him as pyjamas.

"I think these will work," I hand him a blue pair of sweatpants as he walks through the doorway. "Even if they only come down to your knees."

"Thank you Roza," he says with a tired smile. He's seeming a lot more like himself, even if I can see the dark circles under his eyes. He hesitates, absently rubbing the soft cotton between his fingers.

"Need anything else?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "It's just... even though I'm tired I don't know if I'll be able to sleep."

Ah, he means if the drug's still in his system. But honestly I think his body's needs will win out, if he gives himself half a chance. So I smile and fake a yawn.

"It's all good, Comrade," I tell him, letting my words drag out a little to make myself sound more sleepy. "But I'm going to go to bed anyway. Can you lie down with me until I'm asleep?"

"Sure, Roza."

And as I suspected, not five minutes after I turn the light out, I hear deep rhythmic breathing from Dimitri beside me. I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

Author's Note

With the posting of this chapter, this fic just passed 100k words! Thank you so so much for reading, and for sticking with me!

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The VA universe and the characters therein are the sole intellectual property of Richelle Mead.