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“Are you trying to convince me, Rayne?”
My face flames, and I turn to look out the window. “No. Why would I care?”
“Good question. Why would you?” he asks.
“I don’t care! But like you said, I’m a know-it-all. I think you could be doing more with your life.”
God, I sound like my sisters. Is this how they feel every time they say it to me? A noxious mix of self-righteousness and self-loathing?
“I do plenty.”
I wait for him to explain, but he doesn’t. His eyes are pinned on the road.
I could let us drift into silence, but I’ve had enough of that lately. After years of caring for my mom, I’m not used to living alone. Even being only steps away from Lana and Mitchell’s house doesn’t help. I still go home to an empty house. I still fall asleep to the spin of my own thoughts. To the lonely sound of my own heartbeat.
“Like what?” I press.
Kirill looks over, his expression suddenly guarded. The amusement I usually find there is gone. “You’re right. We are practically strangers. I shouldn’t be talking about my personal life with an employee.”
I cackle. “Riiight. Pretend you’re above-board now. But I know the truth.”
“And what truth is that?” he asks.
The words are right there at the tip of my tongue. But at the last second, I doubt myself.
Maybe I’ve been misreading everything. Kirill could be like this with everyone. But through my sad, lonely eyes, I’m turning it into something more than it is. Something more than it would ever be.
Kirill pulls into the driveway and I see all the cars lined up in front of my sister’s Creamsicle yellow, two-story house. The minivan, the black town car Mitchell usually takes to work, the red sports car in the back.
“All these cars and you’re telling me one of them isn’t yours,” he scoffs, pulling to a stop behind the line. “Looks like enough to go around.”
“You’d think,” I mutter. “But everyone must be home early. And the red car was in the shop this morning, so I couldn’t drive it. Oil change or something.”
“They were going to let you behind the wheel of that thing?” Kirill points to the sports car in surprise.
“Yes. What? You can’t believe it? Because I’m a woman?”
“No. Because I’ve seen you handle a wine glass.”
I roll my eyes. “Extenuating circumstances.”
“Regardless, if you’re ever driving that, I’ll be sure I’m not in your eyeline. I’d hate for you to get distracted and cause an accident.”
“No danger of that. I think you’re the one who is distracted.”
“What makes you say that?”
I gesture around. “You’re the one taking time out of your day to drive me home not once, but twice in as many days. I figured you’d have more important things to do. Sonya made sure we all understood how busy you are.”
“Sonya is overprotective,” he demurs. “You’re the one who was just saying I need to have something in my life aside from work.”
“If you really believe that, then you’re a lot better off than most of the men I know.”
“Do you run around with a lot of young, handsome entrepreneurs?”
I pretend to gag myself. “My sisters married wealthy men. But they’re the type to get to the office early and stay late. I’m sure the only reason Mitchell is home right now is because his car was being dropped off by the shop.”
“And your sister puts up with that?”
