Chapter Text
“Tea? The samovar may still be warm...or sherry? I know Inessa Davidovna keeps some in the dining room,” Anna Viktorovna offered.
In the end, Yakov Platonovich had not needed rescuing. By the time Anna crossed the entrance hall of the philharmonic, Nina Neginskaya had moved on. Shtolman had offered Anna a weak smile when she neared, but his mind was elsewhere. He was distracted and sullen the length of their carriage ride back to her apartment. Anna had sat with him, not offering conversation. It had seemed to her that he was working something out, so she let him be. It was a surprise then, when he asked to come up to her apartment.
“Sherry, Anya, if you do not mind,” Yakov answered, more formally and distant, than usual. The air was tinged with tension. Anna was anxious - Nina still had that effect on her. And the silent cab ride home had only heightened her anxiety. Yakov’s countenance had not lightened. If anything, the lines around his eyes and mouth appeared heavier, more weary.
Anna left in search of the fortified wine, returning soon after with two small crystal glasses filed with the honey-colored spirit. Yakov was seated on the forest green velvet sofa. His coat, tie, and shoes had been dismissed, his demeanor considerably more relaxed now. Anna eyed him curiously. The worry that had built over the course of their return journey and the strained moments in her apartment dissipated.
She set the glasses down on the low table and joined Yakov on the sofa. Her knees brushed against his, and Yakov raised his eyes to hers. His gaze suggested regret and sadness, but it also communicated love and gratefulness. They sat this way, regarding each other, without words, for several minutes.
“Something Nina said has disturbed you,” Anna gently postulated. She drew in a deep breath to settle her nerves. Yakov chuckled softly, averting his eyes. He shook his head slowly. When he lifted his face again, Anna saw that he was holding back tears.
“It is past time for me to answer your questions about Miss Neginskaya,” Yakov said. “Tonight’s encounter...perspective - I feel I may have finally gained appropriate perspective.
“It started out innocuously…or so I thought then,” Yakov continued. “We knew each other, or of each other, for some time before we became...close. We were introduced when I was assigned, briefly, to the special forces at the Winter Palace. I am certain now that our frequent interactions were orchestrated for the purpose of engaging me in a relationship. Nina and her partners wanted an inside man, as it were. Someone to help them if their plans went awry or things got sticky. I was to be that man, Anya.”
Yakov paused to assess Anna’s reaction. Concern for him seemed foremost, but there was distress, too - worry.
“You would never...I mean they had to have known that you wouldn’t---”
“Of course,” Yakov interjected. “I have not done anything to compromise myself - nor did I ever consider it. But...I have not been as forthright as I should have. There were instances. Instances that, in retrospect, deserved more inspection, but that I left off. There were direct requests too - small asks from Nina. At first I objected...as time wore on, she convinced me that she was in a hopeless situation.
“She was being threatened...coerced into helping these discreet businessmen with their less than above-board activities. She had evidence in the form of threatening letters and bruises. By then, I was involved. I wanted to help her. I urged her to find a way out. She put me off. She said she was afraid, scared that she would be found out - concerned for my welfare,” Yakov scoffed at this utterance.
“She did care for you, Yakov,” Anna said softly. She had detected this...love - could she allow herself to call it that? - behind Nina’s manifest cold and manipulative persona. In the beginning, Anna had assumed it to be the biggest threat to a relationship with Yakov. She had been wrong about that. Far worse physical menaces had endeavored to keep them apart.
“Razumovsky was one of her associates,” Yakov went on. “She cared for him too - once, not that long ago.”