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The guard closes the door. Irving rounds on me. “I can still fire you. If you can’t control yourself out there—”
“I can control myself just fine. I can rise above whatever they have to throw at me.”
With that, I push past Irving and through the doors. As soon as I re-enter the banquet hall, my eyes land on Kirill. He’s looking my way, his dark brow pinched and unreadable.
Miranda had a point. How the hell had I missed him before? He’s magnetic. The corner of his mouth twists into a smirk. I look away quickly and adjust my apron just so I won’t get sucked in.
The question will be what exactly Mr. Zaitsev decides to throw at me.
2
RAYNE
Viktoria doesn’t say anything as I approach, but she doesn’t need to. She’s draped over the arm of Kirill’s chair, practically coiled in his lap. I half-expect him to start stroking her hair like he’s some kind of evil supervillain and she’s his cat.
“Is everything okay over here?” I do my best to sound cool and casual, but the words come out tense. It’s hard to be relaxed with a pair of emerald green eyes staring straight into my soul.
“All good, sweetheart,” Kirill’s friend with the buzzed hair replies. “They got us cleaned up.”
I ignore the condescending endearment and give him a tight smile. “Good deal.”
“Did your boss give you any trouble?”
I shiver. The deep sound of Kirill’s voice shouldn’t already be so familiar to me, but it is. Miranda’s words just keep spinning around my head.Kirill only pays attention to people he wants something from.
“No more than usual,” I say with a gulp.
“He looked upset.”
Viktoria flips her blonde hair over her shoulder and slides even closer to Kirill, pointedly refusing to look at me. Any further forward and she’ll fall out of her chair.Just lift your leg and spray him already, I want to say.We get it—he’s yours.
“You must have misinterpreted.”
“I didn’t,” Kirill answers. “I never do.”
“I’m not sure how you saw anything with—”Demonic Barbie crawling on your lap,is how I’d like to finish that sentence. I clear my throat and rephrase. “From all the way over here.”
The way his brow arches, I’m almost convinced he can read my mind. It’s unsettling.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll go fetch the desserts.”
I turn to leave, but not before I catch Viktoria’s voice. “Maybe she’ll put this course on the table instead of in our laps.”
I clench my fists.Not if you keep running your mouth, I won’t.
A chilled tray of the deconstructed key lime and salted caramel cracker ice cream sandwiches is waiting on the service counter in the kitchen. I scoop it up and head straight back out the door before Irving can corner me for another lecture.
I don’t need one; I’m not going to slip up again. Months of repressed emotions and grief just bubbled up, I snapped, end of story. It was a fluke, that’s all. Not to be repeated.
Besides, this is my last night. Tomorrow, I’ll be starting a new full-time job and I can be done with the customer-facing service industry, with Irving, and with all these awful, awful people.
Harmony was over the moon when I told her about the new gig. “Yes! A fresh start,” she trilled. “It’s about damn time. You need a big girl job making big girl money. Your momma would be so proud.”
Harmony will probably be proud of my outburst, too, when I tell her all about it later. “Better out than in,” she’ll say. “Feel those feelings. Process that grief however you need to.” She isn’t a therapist by any stretch of the imagination, but she’s as close as I’m going to get on my budget.
By the time I get back to the table, my hand is almost numb from the chilled tray. Carefully, I balance it on the edge of the table and start handing out the individual dishes.
“Do you plan to indulge, Kirill?” the man with the buzzed head asks.
