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She blinks at him for a couple of seconds, then answers, “I watched a sad story.” The corner of her mouth lifts in a mischievous smile. “Nice to know you care.”
Yanking his hand away from her, he shakes his head, and stalks down the hallway.
Abbie turns to me with a wide grin. “Am I wrong? He cares, right?”
I step into the hallway and shut the door. “One sad story at a time. There’s no way your father will let you date Nikolai.”
“Ugh,” she huffs as we walk toward the stairs. “For that man’s abs, I’ll leave my family.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Really?”
She lets out a chuckle. “Not really, but let me have my fantasy.”
Walking into the dining hall, I instantly see Misha sitting at a table with Alek and Armani. It looks like they’re having a serious conversation.
Abbie grabs a menu and waves a server closer. “I want fried feta balls. Also, buffalo wings, don’t skimp on the spice. Aaaaand…”
I look at the menu, then say, “Cheezy garlic bread and fries with bacon and cheese toppings.”
“Yes!” Abbie grins at me. “You know me so well.”
“Is that for both of you?” the server asks.
“No, that’s mine,” Abbie chuckles.
“I’ll have…” I glance over the menu again, then go with my usual favorite, “BBQ riblets. Please cut them for me.”
“Yes, Madam,” the server murmurs before he rushes to the kitchen.
“It’s to-go,” Abbie yells.
My eyes snap to Misha, and seeing that he’s staring at me, I try not to make it obvious when I smile at him.
The corner of his mouth lifts, and it has Alek and Armani glancing over their shoulders, matching frowns on their foreheads.
Crap. Act cool.
Look away.
“Do you think it’s too late to make an appointment at the spa?” Abbie asks.
Grabbing her arm, I tug her toward the doorway. “Let’s go check if they’re still open.”
When we get to the section the spa is in, all the lights are off, and the door’s locked.
“Boo,” Abbie mutters.
“We can wake up early and see if they can squeeze us in?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not waking up at the crack of dawn for a manicure. We can stay in bed and do it ourselves while watching a sappy romance movie.”
Walking back to the dining hall, we take a seat at a table while we wait for our food. I stare at Abbie so I won’t look at Misha.
“Is there something on my face?” she asks.
“No. I’m trying hard not to stare at Misha.”
She lets out a chuckle. “You look constipated.”
