The Sunflower House by Adriana Allegri

Author:Adriana Allegri
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

* * *

The romantic strains of Strauss’s “The Blue Danube” filtered into the parlor. Music meant the meal was over. The evening’s dancing had begun.

When the Gruppenführer slipped into the room, she realized she’d been waiting for him.

“You’re in no mood to dance,” he murmured, his face still cast in shadows.

“I see no reason for it.” She gestured toward the door. “The celebration is a travesty.”

Holding out his hand, he moved into the light, illuminating the clean, hard line of his jaw and white bow tie. “Beauty should never be wasted.”

She shook her head. His smile was a grim acknowledgment of her pain, but she refused to return it.

“Dance in anger then, or in defiance,” he coaxed, holding out his hand again. “Come. Dance with me.”

His calmness was a magnet, impossible to resist. She went to him, faltering at the awareness that sparked when he pressed his broad, warm palm to hers. “It’s all right,” he murmured, drawing her into his arms with care. When she refused to meet his gaze, he nudged her a fraction closer, perhaps to allow her the privacy of her thoughts, but the warmth of his tall, lean body didn’t silence her questions. She couldn’t stand the sense of limbo anymore, of knowing but not knowing, and of all the unspoken words between them. By the end of the waltz, she was crying softly, shuddering in his gentle grip. He continued to hold her after the music stopped, hand clasped around hers and comforting fingers pressed to the center of her back.

She glanced up. His eyes were warm with concern, and his thumbs were whisper soft as they wiped her tears. The heat from his body and the scent of him, cool and clean, made her stomach tighten. As Allina swayed closer, he dipped his head until their lips were just centimeters apart.

Panicking, she shook her head, backed away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered before clearing his throat. “You can’t bring yourself to trust me. I don’t blame you for that.” He slanted her a shrewd look. “We can’t move forward without trust, can we?”

Von Strassberg locked the door, then moved the radio closer to it and switched it on. As the triumphant strains of Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” filled the parlor, he walked to the far side of the room and arranged two chairs so they were a half meter apart and facing each other. With a flick of tailcoat, he settled into one, crossing his long legs before fixing his dark blue eyes on her once again.

“You have questions for me. I’m at your disposal,” he said, inclining his head as he gestured to the other chair. “You may begin your interrogation.”

Allina took her seat, unsure how to begin. He was offering exactly what she’d hoped for. Now her courage was failing.

“Please.” He tilted his head toward the radio, still blasting away. “The Wagner will do its job nicely for a bit.”

She wet her lips and began with the question that had stolen her sleep last night.

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