Mikhail
Zhanna turns to face me, ready to lace into me again, I suppose, but her expression changes to alarm. Her pale blue eyes widen, and her mouth drops open. At first, I think she's having a stroke until I turn quickly to see what caused it.
Maria is descending the spiral staircase.
Her eyes meet mine briefly, filled with questions and concern, before focusing on Zhanna, first with curiosity and then with a hint of apprehension.
Zhanna lifts her finger and points at Maria. "Who is this?" she demands in Russian.
"She's my fiancée," I reply in English as I step between them to shield Maria from Zhanna's piercing gaze and sharp tongue. "Maria."
"Maria ..." she whispers the name as she rises from her seat.
Zhanna's haughty countenance crumples at the sight of Maria, revealing an unf
