This time she interrupted him with a merciless tickle in his side, making him laugh and pull away, hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. I prefer you even to dessert. And that, milaya moya, is saying something indeed.”

Her smile probably looked a bit like the one a cat would wear when it got into the cream. But it was rather nice to know he didn’t plan to run off with a pretty Frenchwoman in the middle of their mission. “Good. And, for the record, I much prefer smiling, teasing army men to dour-faced party officials. Don’t waste a minute of jealousy on Paul.” They rounded the corner as she spoke, and they both caught sight of his figure leaning against their wall. Nadya huffed out a breath and added quietly, “All the same, don’t antagonize him, Evgeni. We need him.”

Which was probably why he kept smiling as they approached. “Bonsoir, Paul,” he called out, fishing the key to their room from his pocket.

Paul kept right on glowering. “I suppose it is, when one has the leisure to while away the day laughing and visiting the shops. Unlike some of us, who work for a living.”

Nadya rolled her eyes. “As do we. And we’ve been doing our job. Now stop your bellyaching and tell us if you’ve managed what we asked.”

Paul grunted and held out a hand indicating Nadya should enter first. She did, though she shot Evgeni an amused look as she stepped past him into the dim interior. Paul then stomped through the doorway, and Evgeni brought up the rear, closing the door behind him.

“I still do not understand why so many resources are being expended over your brother.” Paul tossed his hat on the table.

The muscle in Evgeni’s jaw ticked for a moment before he forced a smile. “He is of interest to the party, as I’ve said before.”

Nadya took the parcel of food from him and set to putting it all away before he squished the cheese.

“I don’t know why. The man does nothing but jog, go to work, and go straight home.”

Evgeni froze in a way she’d seen a few times before. The way a tiger froze before it pounced. Muttering a curse, she shoved the food onto the table and lunged.

Too late. Evgeni had already lunged too, right for Paul. By the time she grabbed his arm, it was already on the recoil, having socked the older man firmly in the nose.

Yes, part of her wanted to smirk—she’d dreamed of punching Paul a few times over the last weeks herself. But still. “Get ahold of yourself, Evgeni. What has come over you?”