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I’m a moment away from wishing myself out of existence when Lev reaches out and takes my hand back. My wide eyes meet his. His expression remains blank, but his thumb strokes gentle circles on my palm. I don’t know whether to melt into his eyes or turn into a puddle of need.
Freaking Stockholm Syndrome!
I swear that’s what this is!
Suddenly, I feel like I want to cling to him like a teenage girl with a crush.
“Champagne,Solnishko?” he asks casually. I nod mutely and he raises his free hand. An instant later, a server is topping up a flute in front of me.
The conversation around us resumes and I glance at the older man across the table from us, wishing I’d been blessed with someone else as a father. The one I have hasn’t even bothered contacting me since the day he married me off.
“You seem tense. Do you want us to change tables?” Lev whispers into my ear. His concern comes out of the blue, leaving me even more unsettled.
I glance at my father and Simon. The temptation to accept Lev’s suggestion is strong, but I refrain. There’s no way I’m letting them win this one. Somehow, I feel like I have nothing to worry about as long as Lev is by my side. Or maybe that’s just how Iwantto feel.
“It’s fine,” I tell him with a smile. His eyes narrow for a moment, but he gives a nod. It feels like I’ve passed some kind of test and it leaves me perversely pleased for some reason.
I don’t look at my father and Simon as the dinner passes. By the time the last course gets cleared, I’m a nervous wreck, but I’ve made it through. I cling to the whisp of pride that comes with it.
The music comes to a stop, and a man walks to the stage. From the enthusiasm of the applause, I get the feeling this is a person of considerable power. I steal a glance in his direction as the applause dies down.
“It is an honor to have everyone here to enjoy this moment…,” the man starts. I tune out his voice as I take in my surrounding. Everyone has their eyes glued on the man as he continues to talk about humanity and charity.
Another round of applause fills the air when he is done. I watch as he leaves the podium before the music starts. Men lead their partners to the dancefloor while others form a group, involved in conversations I know will be business oriented. Most of the people at our table are now mingling with other guests, aside from my father and Simon, who are discussing something in hush tones.
“Come,” Lev murmurs as he stands, reaching for my hand. I’m on my feet with almost embarrassing speed, which turns out to be a mistake, because my sudden movement causes the table to shake slightly. I take a sharp breath as the wine glass in front of my father teeters, then topples, spilling its contents on him. Simon is up in a flash, glaring down at me.
Shit.
Here we go.
“How can you be so stupid?” he snarls. I shrivel under my father’s furious look, waiting for him to explode.
“I’m so sorry,” I say quickly, hoping things won’t escalate.
“You little bitch,” my father’s voice is deadly calm, which has me shivering even more. The fear of my father that was embedded in me over the years takes over, and I instinctively bow my head. Any minute now, this is going to get ugly, and my humiliation will be complete. They’re going to belittle me, right here in front of everyone. I nervously bite my lower lip waiting for the tirade.
But it doesn’t come.
“It was an accident. She said she is sorry,” Lev cuts in. I raise my head and stare at him. I thought he would get a kick out of watching me being publicly chastised.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it. The clumsy cunt spilled my drink,” my father snarls as he stands. He holds Lev’s gaze and the air around us thickens once again. People are beginning to stare at our table. As I turn to take in the sight of Lev, I can see why. Everything about him iscoiledand dangerous. As his jaw juts forward, I get the sense of a predator about to rip out a throat.
“You!” he says, almost beneath his breath, and to my surprise, I see my father shrink back. “You will not speak to my wife that way.”
There’s a second of silence during which my father’s mouth opens and closes. Then he snaps it shut.
“Apologize!” Lev’s voice is a low growl. I blink at him in astonishment. So does my father. When he doesn’t comply, Lev’s head dips forward, menace in the movement. “I said apologize to my wife,” he repeats the demand.
My father’s eyes on me feel like hot poison.
“Sorry,” he mutters, his lip curling as he speaks. There’s not a shred of remorse in the words, and Lev bristles. I put a hand on his arm.
“Thank you, Father,” I respond, feeling Lev’s muscles bunching beneath my fingertips. “It’s fine. Let’s go,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
Lev's eyes remain hard on my father for another long moment, then he grabs my hand and leads me away from the table. I force myself not to glance back at my father and Simon, but I can feel their burning eyes on my back.
What the hell just happened?
