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“I’ll have a–gin and tonic,” I say quickly, opting for what seems familiar.
“Good choice,” Nick says with a grin. “So?”
I hesitate, feeling a little as if I’m being interviewed for the first time in my life. “I–um–well, I work as an au pair for a Russian family. I live with them, just outside the city.”
“That seems like a good gig.” He grins. “Are you Russian? Your last name is Federova, right?”
I nod. “It is. And yes. I don’t have much connection to it, though.”
“You have an accent, though.” His eyes glimmer a little, and I think I detect a hint of heat in them. “So you can’t have been here long.”
“A year.” Thankfully, the waiter brings our drinks just then, and I take a sip of mine, trying to calm my racing heart.
“Only a year? Did you come here for the job?”
Oh fuck.I don’t want to lie to this man, who seems nice enough, if a bit overeager and weirdly turned on by my accent. But I can’t see myself saying, five minutes after meeting him,well, I was a foster child in Russia, and I aged out. I ended up being trafficked here a year ago. The only reason I’m not on my knees for some billionaire or a Saudi prince right now is because I was raped, and therefore all my value was lost.
It seems like a lot, honestly, to come right out of the gate with. I have a split second to make a decision, and I hear myself saying, “yes, that’s right. For the job.”
Well, it’s too late now. It’s not like you’re going to marry him or anything.
“That must have been quite a culture shock.”
You have no idea.
“Yes,” I say brightly, maybe a little too much so. “But I really like it here. And I love the family I work for.”
“How many children?” Nick asks, as the waiter delivers a platter of escargot and beef tartare to the table. I eye both plates, unsure about how I feel regarding snails and raw meat, but I’ve tried my best to be an adventurous eater while living with Viktor and Caterina, and it hasn’t steered me wrong so far.
“Four,” I tell him, spooning one of the buttery, herbed snails onto my plate. “Two of them are just babies. Twins, actually.”
Nick raises an eyebrow. “Wow. Four kids, huh? That’s a lot. Do you want kids?”
I hesitate, feeling as if the conversation is moving a little more quickly than I’d like. “Maybe?” I hedge. “I don’t know. Being a nanny kind of makes me feel as if I’ve fulfilled that, but who knows? I might want my own one day. I’m not in any hurry.”I’m also just this side of being a virgin, so I’ve got a lot of path to tread before I want to start making babies.
“I’ve got three brothers and a sister,” Nick says with a grin. “I’ve always wanted kids. But just a couple, you know?” His eyes flick over me. “We’d make pretty babies.”
Oh, god.I force a smile, popping another snail into my mouth so that I don’t have to answer. It’s actually delicious, and I take a sip of my gin and tonic before asking, “So what about you? What do you do?”
“Oh, I’m a hedge fund manager.” He looks very proud of himself as he says it. “It’s a lot of hours, but it’s worth it, you know? I’ve got an apartment overlooking the city, a company card, and dinners out like this whenever I want. Everything a girl could want in a guy, right?”
Once again, I stave off the answer with a bite of the beef tartare. It’s not my favorite, but it’s better than trying to come up with a response.I don’t really care about any of that,I want to say, but I don’t think he’d take it very well, and I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do in a situation like this.
“I’ve got a similar situation,” I manage, after we’ve given our orders to the waiter for entrees, and asked for a second round of drinks. “A room in a mansion, a driver to take me wherever I want to go, invitations to the parties my employers throw. It’s a lot, sometimes. I was used to a simpler life before this.”
“But the high life is the way to go, right?” He grins at me. “You get it. I like you a lot, Sasha.”
No, you completely missed what I was trying to say.I force a smile, but inwardly, I just miss Max. Even with our miscommunications over what we each want our relationship to be–or what we’llallowit to be–when we’re talking, it flows smoothly. It never feels like this–uncertain and awkward, as if we’re talking past one another.
“So, do you like your job?” I ask tentatively as I pick at my entree, duck with sides that I don’t entirely recognize. “Is this what you always wanted to do?”
Nick shrugs. “I mean, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a firefighter. But they don’t make very much money.” He winks at me. “I can’t say I love it, but the perks are worth it. Speaking of, I have a box at the orchestra, if you’d want to go–”
“I’d actually like that,” I say, before I have a chance to really think about the implications of a second date and whether I really want to spend another evening with this guy. It seemed like what I was supposed to say, and the words came out before I could stop them. “I actually know the first chair violinist–Sofia Romano. She’s just coming back from having had a baby–she and her husband are friends with my employers.”
“Well, look at you.” Nick grins, forking a bite of steak into his mouth. “You and I would make a good pair, I think. A real power couple–especially once you move on from that au pair business. What else do you want to do? Modeling? I hear a lot of au pairs are trying to get into that. You could really get far, with looks like those.” He grins wistfully. “I could be dating amodel. ARussianmodel. My buddies at the firm would be so fuckin’ jealous.”
It’s an effort not to visibly wince, and I fervently regret taking him up on the offer of a second date. I wonder if there’s any way to get out of it, as the waiter comes back to take our plates and returns shortly after with dessert–a fruit and cheese plate and chocolate mousse. I can feel Nick’s eyes on me as I take a bite, and I glance up at him.
