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There was a single table in the center of the room draped in a beautiful white tablecloth. Rose petals were strewn all over it, and there was a gorgeous bouquet of red roses on one side. Like a perfect gentleman, Sergei led me over to my chair, pulled it out for me, and pushed it in once I was settled.
My clit throbbed and a new worry hit me. I had been able to feel my wetness on my thighs with every step I took through the restaurant. I pressed my legs together, nervous that my arousal would leave a noticeable wet spot on my dress because I wasn’t wearing any panties.
Sergei bowed his head respectfully and took the seat opposite me. A waitress came in and immediately poured both of us a glass of champagne. Warm bread and butter hit the table almost as quickly. It was still steaming, fresh out of the oven.
“Would you like to order from the menu, or do you have something else in mind, Mr. Reznikov?” she asked, and I noticed that she was also one of the women that had been in the room when I’d been stripped naked.
“Is there something special you would like, Natasha?”
“I’ve heard a lot about this place, and I would love to try one of your more popular dishes,” I replied softly.
“I’ll bring the menu,” she curtsied. Quickly, she filled two glasses with water, before silently disappearing out of a door at the side of the room.
“I always dreamed of getting a chance to eat here,” I whispered.
I left out the part about not being able to afford it. I was only attending the University of Chicago because I’d been able to get a full scholarship that included room and board. By some lucky chance, I’d entered my name into a massive pool of students and had been chosen to live in one of the much nicer and recently renovated apartment complexes on campus.
I worked an odd job here and there, including retail, bartending, whatever I could do that was within reason to start putting away a small savings. Robert had insisted that I didn’t have to, so I’d worked less this past year than I had before that.
“It makes me happy to fulfill one of your dreams,” Sergei teased, his eyes sparkling.
I blushed for like the thousandth time, feeling my nipples pebble underneath the silk fabric of my dress. There was nothing else to do but own it. Who knows, maybe he would even like it. The waitress returned with two leather bound menus, and I opened mine to glance at what they offered. There were no prices listed, but I had a feeling that I didn’t want to know what the food here cost. I felt more comfortable that way.
I read through the list of Russian-American fusion style dishes. I didn’t really know what to pick. Should I go with something light? Would he be the type of man to judge me if I ordered something unhealthy?
“You will order more than a salad,moya malyshka,” Sergei stated.
There was a distinct undertone in his voice that told me he was used to being obeyed and a streak of rebelliousness sparked through me before I remembered that I didn’t just want to eat something like a wedge salad anyway. Blushing furiously, I quickly decided on what I wanted, going with my first choice while also trying not to think about how much it felt like an odd mix of an adult dish and something a little girl might order.
“I’ll take the caviar and lobster macaroni and cheese with a side of pan-seared broccolini, please,” I ordered, feeling like my words had fallen off my tongue in a rush. If Sergei noticed my sudden nervousness, he didn’t comment on it, and for that, I was relieved.
“The filet mignon stroganoff for me, please. On the side, I’d like the stroganoff-style mushrooms and truffle mashed potatoes.”
The waitress took both the menus and came back with two bottles of red wine. She poured one for me and the other for Sergei.
“This malbec will pair well with your dish, Mrs. Reznikov. It is a rich and full-bodied red, which will complement the intricate flavors nicely. For yours, sir, I would recommend this pinot noir. It is medium bodied and has a very good acidity when paired with the flavor profile of your selection,” she bowed her head.
Sergei swirled his glass like I imagined the fancy people at wine tastings did. I mimicked him, but I took a much bigger sip of wine then he had. He seemed pleased with her choice and nodded his thanks.
She left the room again, and Sergei picked up a piece of bread. He surprised me by buttering it and reaching across the table so I could take a bite. When I went to pluck it from his fingers, he shook his head, and I hesitantly brought my hand back down to my lap. I don’t know why I obeyed his silent instruction, but somewhere deep inside it felt nice to be cared for like this.
Sergei was the complete opposite of Robert. He was the perfect gentleman while Robert had done nothing more than play at being one. Sure, he’d done all the right things. He’d taken me on nice dates, sent me flowers occasionally, and even respected the fact that I’d wanted to wait to be intimate until we were married, but something about it had felt forced, like he’d just been going down a list he’d found somewhere on the internet titled “The Quickest Way into a Woman’s Heart and Inside Her Pants.”
Nothing felt forced with Sergei. It seemed like caring for a woman was an intricate part of his nature, and somewhere deep inside, it felt special that he had chosen me.
I took another sip of champagne, enjoying the rich flavors. I didn’t ask what kind it was. I didn’t have to be told that everything I was about to put in my mouth cost a ridiculous amount of money. Knowing that, I would savor each sip.
“How do you know the owner?” I asked curiously.
“He is an old friend. A long time ago, he had a lot of debts. His son was a good soldier to me, reliable as they come. There was a time I needed his absolute loyalty to me, and I rewarded him by clearing his father of every penny he owed.”
“How?” I gasped.
“I have several men at my disposal that know their way intrinsically around any firewall in existence,” he answered simply. The amount of power dripping from every syllable in that sentence was palpable, and I swallowed heavily.
“Why not use them to clear Robert’s debts?” I pressed carefully.
“Robert didn’t owe money to the banks,moya malyshka,” he explained.
