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I give her a smile with all my teeth. “You got it.”
Timofey may be trying to wine and dine me—for what purpose, I don’t know—but I can simply refuse to be wined and dined. There’s nothing tempting about a bowl of lettuce and one grape tomato.
Let that be a lesson to you: don’t try to buy Piper Quinn, people, because she can’t be bought.
I cross my arms confidently over my chest, though I have to bite back a wince when my burnt skin twinges. I’m feeling much better today than yesterday, but I still have to move cautiously.
Timofey reaches out and encircles my wrist in one huge hand. Goosebumps erupt across my skin. “After the couple days you’ve had, you should eat something more substantial.”
From the outside, it sounds concerned. Maybe even caring.
I hear it for what it is: a command.
“I’m fine,” I grit from behind a tense smile.
He studies me, understanding sparking in his eyes. He knows what I’m doing. Of course he does.
“Actually, she’ll have the milk-braised pork shoulder with mascarpone polenta and charred apples.” Timofey picks up both menus and hands them to the waitress. “And another bottle of wine for the table.”
The waitress beams at him, practically melting when her hand brushes over his fingers as they exchange menus. Then she’s gone.
“She didn’t even check to see if that’s really what I wanted,” I grumble. “She just took your word for it.”
“She’s smart. You could learn something from her.”
I narrow my eyes at my dinner date. Timofey is sitting next to me, conveniently outside the range of the chandelier should it come tumbling down. One hand is on the back of my chair, the other wrapped around the stem of his wine glass.
He is effortless charm and sex. No wonder the waitress doesn’t give a single fuck what I think.
“Relax,” he says, leaning in to whisper the words in my ear. “We’re having a nice time.”
“Why does it feel like you’re saying that with a gun pointed at my back?”
“Because you’re always looking for the catch,” he says. “For the real reason someone is showing interest in you. Your entire life has been a lesson in never letting your guard down, so when someone is being genuinely nice to you, you don’t recognize it.”
I blink at him in shock. Timofey sips his wine, unbothered.
“Are you familiar with that feeling?” I finally ask.
He shrugs. “I was. For a time. I’ve grown out of it by now.”
“Must be nice.”
“Even with shitty parents, you’re too young to sound that bitter,” he scolds. “Besides, you’re where you are in life because you’re too stubborn to get out.”
I snap my attention to him so quickly my neck pops. “What does that mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Instead of looking out for yourself, you’ve spent all of your time and most of your money taking care of everyone else. Life shit on you, and you decided to scoop as much of the stuff as possible off of everyone else in your vicinity.”
I grimace. “Charming analogy.”
“The problem is that you’re scooping everyone else’s shit onto your own pile,” he continues. “You’re burying yourself alive to save them.”
I want to deny everything he’s saying, but the words hit a little too close to home.
Six months ago, I got a bonus at work for being “Social Worker of the Quarter.” Two hours after clocking out for the day, I spent the entire thing plus an extra hundred I couldn’t really spare on Ashley’s bail.
Every time I get ahead even an inch, I hand it off to Ashley or Gram or my dad. I don’t see him often, but when I do, his hand is out and ready.
