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“Los Angeles.”

“Alone?”

“With a coworker.”

“A coworker?”

“Or a hot boss?”

I shoot daggers at my traitorous sister, who giggles as she flees to my room.

“Alma, we already guessed there was something going on between you and Vadim,” my mother says.

Ah.

“I have twenty-five minutes to get ready. We’ll discuss my poor life choices later!”

While I change, Lily piles summer dresses, evening wear, sandals, and swimsuits into my suitcase. From the living room, my father reminds me to pack my passport.

“Already in her purse, next to the condoms and the—”

I silence Lily by clapping my hand over her mouth and swear at her in every language I know.

“Do you want him to have a heart attack? It’s my first trip back there with Vadim, Lily. And I might just kill anyone who gets in my way…”

She attempts a muffled protest from behind my hand.

“Blink if you understand,” I growl.

Just as my parents are about to leave, Vadim sends me a message to say he’s waiting downstairs. The timing couldn’t be worse. I’m worried about my father, who always has a cutting remark or two up his sleeve. But Vadim is known for his sharp comebacks; twelve years ago, he already knew how to put my father in his place without flinching. Caught in the middle, all I ever wanted was to disappear.

The three of us head outside, where a black vehicle and its driver, a man in his fifties, are waiting. He greets us politely, then takes my luggage to load it into the trunk. Vadim appears at that moment, all smiles until he realizes I’m not alone. He runs a nervous hand through his hair. I shoot him a sheepish look, trying to let him know this reunion wasn’t planned—and that I’m deeply sorry for what’s about to follow.

“Mrs. Lancaster, how are you?”

Watching Vadim, tall, dark-haired, and elegant in his black suit, give my mother such an adorable little nod makes my stomach flutter.

“Good evening, Vadim. I’m counting on you to take care of Alma.” My mother smiles at him.

It’s as simple as that.

“Mr. Arcadi,” my father says, after clearing his throat. “Well, it’s Mr. King now, if I understand correctly. Isn’t that a little pretentious?”

“You tell me. It’s my mother’s maiden name: She was Jane Howard King.”

Their eyes lock and don’t let go.

My mother seems touched by this revelation. My father, on the other hand, remains uneasy, unable to come up with a response. I take advantage of his hesitation and break the tension.

“Let’s go, Vadim, we have a flight to catch.”

I wave to my parents and open the car door.

“Alma, wait. What hotel can we reach you at?”

“There’s no hotel. She’ll be staying at my place,” Vadim responds. “And you can probably reach her on her cell phone…”

One point for King. His sarcastic answer clearly irritates my father, who is about to say something, when my mother interrupts him.