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I twirl a lock of hair around my finger. “About?”
“We secured a large amount of cash from that art gallery near Lo Scoglio,” he replied. “It’s waiting to be transferred as we speak.”
I smile politely. “That’s good news, Pavel.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,Lisichka.”
My face flushes as I shake my head. “You’re smart. You would have figured something out.”
“Nonetheless,” he insists while sliding his hand across the table. “Thank you.”
Our hands make contact, a rush of emotions blooming in my core as brilliant as the roses seated near the window. I sigh into his touch, exhaling long and slow while meeting his gaze.
It’s just dinner, I remind myself.It’s not so bad here. Enjoy it.
But it’s hard to enjoy anything when I feel so overwhelmed by the decadence of this place. While Pavel seems at ease with his fancy dinnerware and cloth napkins, I’m thinking about the bodega around the corner from my apartment, where burritos wrapped in foil are served on foam trays. Sloppy, delicious, fried, cheap, and fastgoodnessis all I’m familiar with.
I part my lips to speak, to say something about the waitress, but she returns with the artichoke heart appetizer and sets it on the table between us. She sets an empty plate in front of each of us as well. At least she had the consideration to do that much.
I stare blankly at the appetizer.What the fuck is that?I pick up a fork, fighting the urge to run as I gently plunge the tines into one of the pear-shaped items. I set it on my plate and pluck a knife from the napkin, preparing to slice it when Dawn scoffs.
She gives me a withering look. “You’re supposed to gently scrape the flesh with yourteeth.” She smiles, looking like a snotty blonde high school bitch preparing to kick me off the cheerleading squad. “But I guesssomepeople just aren’t familiar with how to eat such things.”
A combination of rage and shame floods my body. How could I be so stupid? I set the knife and fork down with utter defeat as I realize just how much I’m flopping around. I don’t want to touch anything. I just want to go home.
The waitress starts to retreat when Pavel snaps his fingers.
“Yes, sir? Is there something else you would like?”
Stone cold seriousness etches his face. “I want you to apologize to my wife.”
The flirtatious grin fades. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand.”
“One phone call,” Pavel says as he procures his phone. “That’s all it’s going to take for you to be blackballed from the service industry for life.” He smiles handsomely. “All for flirting with the wrong guy.”
Her eyes widen. “I didn’t mean any offense. I thought—”
“You saw her ring. I saw you look at mine, too.”
“No, I didn’t—”
The way Pavel stands up sends the waitress back a couple of steps. She spins toward me and bows her head.
She’s practically shaking while she says, “I’m sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”
“Again,” Pavel orders. “On your knees.”
The waitress looks horrified while I fight a mixture of terror and satisfaction that coils in my gut like a snake.
With quivering lips, the waitress kneels on the ground. We’ve drawn attention to our booth despite the privacy screens, the small opening leading to our table attracting the eyes of other patrons and staff. It’s embarrassing despite being with one of the most powerful men in the country, maybe even the world.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” the waitress says with conviction. “It willneverhappen again. I hope you’ll forgive me. I was acting stupid. I don’t want to lose my job.”
My throat scrapes as I swallow. I wait for my breathing to settle before I reply, “It’s okay. I forgive you.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” The waitress stands and trips over her feet as she skitters off toward the kitchen door on the other side of the room.
Life resumes as normal beyond the privacy screen. Conversation returns in a swirling hum that reaches my ears and then fades as I think about what just happened.
