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“Oh, Mom. There is not a moment of the past that I would change. I did it because it gave me pleasure. I wanted to. I love you. Nothing is more important than you and Maddy.”
“What’s going on here?” Madison asks from the doorway.
“Nothing,” Mom says, wiping her tears.
“Are you crying?” Madison asks.
“Of course not,” Mom says.
“Dust in her eyes,” I say.
“Whoa! Raine. You look beautiful. Is the dress new?”
“Yeah. A friend gave it to me.”
“It’s gorgeous.” She comes forward and taking my hand swings me around. “You’re going to burn the billionaire’s eyes.”
“Of course not. No doubt he goes out with far more beautiful women all the time.”
Her thin, pale face breaks into a cheeky grin. “Then why did he bid a million dollars for you?”
“It is a publicity stunt.”
“That’s not what the papers say.”
I shake my head. “How many times have I told you not to read those nasty gossip pages?”
She laughs, the carefree laugh of a teenager. “Anyway, I think he is delicious. Are you going to stay overnight?”
“Madison Fillander,” Mom cries in a scandalized voice.
“What?” she asks innocently.
“Because I don’t do one-night stands.”
My sister’s eyes narrow. “Why are you so sure it’ll only be one night?”
“Because it’s a purchased charity dinner date and anyway he looks like someone who is spoilt for choice. Someone who arrogantly takes what he wants and doesn’t care about the consequences. He is not someone I want anything to do with.”
She pulls a considering face. “If you really believe that, why are you dressed so sexily?”
“Do you think Raine should wear a scarf?” Mom asks immediately.
“No,” both Madison and I reply in unison.
Then we both look at each other and laugh. At that moment, I know I am doing the right thing. I love my sister and there is nothing I would not do for her. If I have to steal a worthless painting from a billionaire so be it. If I have to go to prison and carry a prison record for the rest of my life so be it. Nothing is more important than keeping her alive. We are a unit. The three of us against the whole wide world. I feel tears burn at the backs of my eyes and blink them away.
There is no more nervousness.
This is just another job. I remember all those years ago when Mr. Jackson, whose daughter I was babysitting for, tried to kiss me. I just kneed him in the nuts. It hurt him so much that he couldn’t even scream. His eyes bulged so much I thought they were going to fall out of his face. He just clutched his groin and sank to the floor with gasps. After that he kept well away from me.
I learned quickly that night what worked for Mr. Jackson would work for any man. If I had to knee Konstantin Tsarnov tonight that is what I will do.
“Right. I should go,” I say.
“Good luck, honey,” Mom whispers.
“I won’t need it, Mom,” I say softly.
She frowns. “I’ll be waiting here for you.”
“And me. Only because I want the juicy details,” Madison says cheekily.
“You’re not waiting up for anybody, young lady,” Mom scolds sternly.
“For god’s sake, Mom. I’m not a baby.”
“On that note, I’m off,” I say and start moving towards the door.
“Have a great time, Raine,” my sister calls as I walk out of the door.
I turn back and see them both standing next to each other, my mother’s face anxious, and my sister’s face innocent and smiling, and again I know without any doubt that I’m doing the right thing for all of us.
Raine
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Whgn_iE5uc&ab_channel=SantanaVEVO
Smooth
* * *
The cab Catherine had ordered for me, stops outside the swanky restaurant where Konstantin’s secretary had arranged the date to take place. One doorman holds the cab door open while the other moves to open one of the double doors of the restaurant.
I thank them both and sweep confidently into the restaurant. The hostess comes to greet me. It is clear she immediately recognizes me from the many photos of me that have been splashed all over the press.
“Good evening, Miss Fillander.”
“Good evening,” I greet back.
“Mr. Tsarnov is having a drink at the bar. If you would like to follow me…” she trails off as her head dips almost in a bow.
I don’t think anyone has been that reverent to me in my whole life. “Thank you,” I murmur.
I follow her past a large dining room to a conservatory, where a private area has been cordoned off with gauzy curtains and plants. Konstantin Tsarnov is clearly no gentleman. He doesn’t stand as we approach. Instead he lifts his glass to his arrogant lips, and takes a sip of the colorless liquid in it.
“Your guest, Mr. Tsarnov,” she says deferentially.
He says nothing while a waiter seats me, then holds out a drinks menu for me. I don’t take the menu.
