With my back to him, I said, “I hope attacked tourists don’t end up at your door often, because this is turning into a very expensive venture.” His only response was a smile I felt on my spine. I turned to tell him I couldn’t accept this, but when my gaze met his, my breath twisted in a knot, the space between my heartbeats zapping like a hot wire. Ronan’s hands rested in his pockets, his watch glinting in the low light. His eyes burned deep, dark, intimidating, but I knew up close, they were an entrancing blue. I swallowed. “I can’t let you buy me a coat. It’s too much.” His gaze flickered with displeasure. “Nobody tells me what I can or cannot do.” I believed him with every cell in me. What did he do, exactly? I bit my lip and admitted, “I don’t do fur.” He raised a brow and drawled, “Don’t tell me you’re a vegetarian too.” “Ah...” I gave him an apologetic smile. “Vegan.” He regarded me heavily, as if I was an odd breed of woman. His gaze set me on edge, so I distracted myself by perusing the clothing racks. Nothing had a price tag, to my dismay. Or relief. I ran my hand down a white faux fur coat that had to be the cheapest of the lot and said, “This one.” His eyes narrowed—apparently, he was on to me—but he didn’t voice his disapproval. On the way back to the car, a flurry landed on my lashes. I stopped on the sidewalk and lifted my eyes to the sky to watch snow fall for the first time. It was like someone above had torn their wedding dress apart and let the pieces of tulle float to the pavement. I caught a flake in my palm, studying how it melted on my skin within seconds. Looking up, I noticed Ronan watching me, and warmth rushed to my cheeks at his heavy attention. Quelling the unladylike impulse to catch a snowflake on my tongue, I continued walking to the car. We arrived at the Moskovskiy ten minutes later. Elegantly dressed couples milled in through the front doors, hand in hand. My palms and neck itched when some slowed to look at us, the eyes on my skin bringing Ivan’s earlier warning back. Goose bumps ran down my arms beneath my thick coat. Ronan didn’t even put his jacket back on. His Russian blood, I supposed.