I picked up my mug and almost got a lapful of hot coffee because my hands were shaking so much. I was grateful for Anasztaizia’s steadying hold on my arm, even if I was nearly blinded by the door-knocker diamond. I needed to take a step back. Sipping my coffee, I decided a change of subject was needed. Kind of like a time-out. Anasztaizia and I were both women, surely there was something else we could talk about? Something that didn’t involve the opposite sex. Or vampires. I took another swig of coffee, and the tremble in my hand began to lessen. “This is really good,” I said, tapping a nail against the mug. “Is it from your restaurant?” “No, it’s a special blend I keep at home. It’s Russian.” “Russian?” I felt my forehead wrinkle. “I thought you were Hungarian.” “I am, but my boyfriend is Russian. I keep the coffee for him.” Her gaze flickered toward the front door, and I almost fell off the chair as understanding crashed over me like a bucket of cold water.
