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He’s placing his anger on me, and I didn’t do anything wrong.
Mikhail brings a glass of vodka to his lips and takes a couple of sips. “What makes you think I’m hurt?”
I lift my eyes to his. Those blue eyes ... they pierce through any emotional shield I have. He doesn’t look hurt, annoyed, or even angry. He looks defeated. I don’t think he meant for me to see the shift in his energy. He says he’s not hurt, but the way he fidgets with everything around him makes me believe otherwise. Maybe I’m reading into his movements too much, but I’ll take whatever I can latch onto for answers.
“If you weren’t hurt, you wouldn’t be using me as blackmail.”
“Who said you were blackmail?”
His questions frustrate me. I ask him something and he just flips it back to me.
“Why can’t you just answer my questions?”
“Why can’t you ask the right ones?”
I cross one leg over the other and readjust myself on the bench. I don’t know what his game is, but I can’t help but feel intrigued. He’s already changing my mood, and not for the better, but I’ll indulge him. “Right. What’s your favorite color?” I ask.
“No.”
“‘No’ isn’t a color, Mikhail.”
His tongue rolls over the inside of his cheek. “You want to get to know me?” he asks while he rolls his shoulders.
“And you me.” I look at the glass of champagne placed next to my plate. Then I grab the flute and take a sip.
Mikhail looks curious, but only for a moment before he pulls away from the table. “Eat your food.”
“I’ll eat, but I want my door to remain unlocked,” I say, challenging him. If Mikhail didn’t need me alive, I wouldn’t be here right now, and that gives me the upper hand. Murder might be at the end of my story, but at least it didn’t start that way. There is no light at the end of the tunnel for me. I’m far away from home with a man who would love to see me dead. I might as well see if I can better my accommodation.
“What makes you think you can demand things of me? Do you think I care if you rot in your room? I don’t.”
My lips part in shock. This man is the devil’s spawn. “What are you trying to prove to me? Why this dinner?”
“To show you I’m not all that bad.”
“Oh, that’s brilliant coming from you.”So he kidnaps me and then tries to convince me he isn’t a bad person? I’ve got to say, that’s a new one for me.
“If you didn’t want to come, why did you?”
As if he gave me a choice! If I didn’t come to this dinner willingly, I’m sure he’d have gotten one of his men to drag me here. But I’ll humor him. “I came for the drink. Don’t get caught up in the meaning behind it.”
“Oh, that’s cute coming from you. Remember you willingly sat down in that chair to spend your time with me.”
“I think you’re forgetting you threatened me. I can’t willingly do anything.”
“Why the fuck do you talk so much?” he asks, running his fingers against his full lips.
My chest rises and falls in shock. I thought we were just having a conversation; I didn’t think I was talking too much.Was I?
He reaches for his drink, downing the entire glass again.
“You asked me to have dinner with you,” I snap. It’s as if he got what he wanted and doesn’t need to hear any more.
“I did. And if I were you, I wouldn’t mistake my kindness for anything else. I would gladly choke you with the hand I feed you with.”
It feels as if there’s a lump in my throat. For the first time since I’ve been on this boat, I don’t feel the need to say something smart back to him. He saw me getting too comfortable and shot that idea down real quick.
After swallowing my pride, I lean even closer to the table. “What was the point of this dinner? These questions were surface-level, and we didn’t even get anywhere.”
