It was rare for the pot to realise it shared the same colour as the kettle, was it not? Arching a brow, Mikhail held Laynia's gaze for a beat, searching for some flicker of self-realisation and when it did not show, he struck its spark instead.
"In a Gulag where the guards allowed Yuri Bezukhov free rein to do as he wished among those incarcerated ... your ex-fiancé."
"... I was young and in love. And he wasn't half as angry back then as he is now."













