I didn’t feel like being more of a nuisance, and I also wasn’t exactly thrilled at the thought of sharing what happened last night with Ivan, so I pushed the need aside. I’d buy a disposable phone and let him know I was okay later. Ronan stared at me. Toss. Squeeze. The man was always doing something with his hands, and it was distracting. I swallowed when silence filled the room once again. He seemed perfectly content to just sit in it, but it tunneled under my skin and made me itch to fill it. I cleared my throat. “This place .. . it’s nice. Very warm and... inviting.” It was far from inviting for a girl like me, and we both knew it. His slow smile could devastate cities. “What about it makes you feel so comfortable? I shall have to rectify it as soon as possible.” He watched with some form of dark interest as another stupid flush rose to my cheeks. If there was a God, he would have surely taken pity on me and opened a hole in the floor to let me fall through. I felt like Duckie in Pretty in Pink, and we all know how that ended up. “The music. My papa listens to the same music.” “What a coincidence,” Ronan drawled. His voice was indifferent, but also laced with something that evoked a shiver beneath my skin. “Maybe you’ve heard of him?” It was a long shot, but with nothing else to go on, I might as well try to find another breadcrumb. “Alexei Mikhailov?” Squeeze. “Can’t say I have.” Disappointment filled me. “What does your papa do?” “He’s an investor.” That was all I knew. Papa never talked about work around me. “Huh.” After a moment of studying me, Ronan said, “And what brings an American cheerleader to Moscow, alone?” I glanced at my bag with “CHEER” across the front. “I was a cheerleader in high school, not anymore.” “So a solid year ago then?”