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So I’ll just have to wait. Because I can’t contact him. Not for another four days.
That just sounds like an excruciatingly long time. Once again, I wish he would come hunt me down at school. Let me explain what’s going on. I’m sorely tempted to make a quick run over to the Veles house on my way home and see if he’s there.
He probably would be. But no stop at Pyotr and Silvia’s ends up being a short one. And I can’t bring myself to explain why I only stopped by to talk to Efrem but can’t stay. Somehow, that feels like a betrayal in too many different ways.
Worrying my lip, I turn my attention back to the images I still need to print as I try to crush the anxiety building inside. I’m sure Efrem will understand… Right?
14
DANI
“Dani, dinner!” Mom calls from the bottom of the stairs.
Closing my laptop, which I’d been working on to touch up an image, I brace myself for an evening of entertainment. Because while I’m still grounded, Ben gets to bring home his good friend Mikhail Sidorov, the guy he told Dad a while back might be interested in funding Dad’s campaign.
And I’ve been told to be on my best behavior.
Groaning with resistance at the thought of putting on a smile and pretending to enjoy myself, I rise from my chair and check my hair in the mirror before heading downstairs.
It’s been five days since I last saw Efrem. He hasn’t stopped by my school. And I’m genuinely starting to worry about what he must think of my silence. It bothers me that he hasn’t checked in. And that niggling thought that he’s lost interest in me now that we’ve had sex seems to grow more persistent by the day.
It’s a constant effort to keep my emotions in check, to reason with myself that it will all be okay once I get the chance to explain myself. I’m so exhausted that the thought of dinner guests is the last thing I want to do—even if one of those guests is my brother, one of my favorite people in the world.
“Hey, Dani,” Ben greets me as soon as I reach the landing to the bottom floor.
And despite my bad attitude, as soon as I see my brother, I can’t help but smile. Skipping down the last few steps, I throw myself into his arms. He gives me a playful spin, squeezing the air from my lungs, then sets me on my feet.
“Let me introduce you to Mikhail Sidorov,” he says, turning my attention to the man standing next to Dad in the entryway.
It appears they’ve already been introduced, as the businessman steps forward to shake my hand. A silky smile curves his lips but doesn’t quite make it to his dark eyes, which appraise me with cold intelligence. Not a single lock of his perfectly gelled hair is out of place, the short, dark waves styled back from his face in a professional and timeless way.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dani. I’ve heard so much about you,” he says, his voice overly confident, almost smug, as he takes my hand between both of his.
A shiver runs up my spine at the cool, dry touch. While not a weak handshake by any means, it feels creepily like a caress. And Mikhail’s eyes linger on me with some unspoken promise that raises the hair on the back of my neck.
“You too,” I agree, taking my hand back as soon as it’s remotely acceptable.
“Shall we eat?” Mom suggests, gesturing to the dining room.
“Lead the way,” Mikhail says to me with that same emotionless smile.
I do, striding into the dining room and finding my usual seat at the table.
Ben takes up his usual seat next to me, bumping me playfully with his elbow. I respond in kind, giving him a good jab to the ribs, and he grunts. Shoving my shoulder lightly, he gives me a wicked glare, so I stick my tongue out at him.
“Dani,” my mom warns as she takes the seat across from me—just in time to rein in our childish behavior before Mikhail might see.
“Ben was doing it too,” I grumble, just loud enough for my brother to hear.
He snickers and casts me a sidelong glance that says he would almost feel bad for me if he didn’t find it so damn funny.
“Thanks for letting me join you for dinner,” Mikhail says as he settles into the seat across from Ben. “Ben has told me so many good things about your family. I have looked forward to meeting you.”
“We’ve heard such good things about you as well. It’s our pleasure to have you here,” Mom says with a winning smile.
“Thank you, Mrs. Richelieu.” Mikhail gives a polite nod.
I detect just a hint of an accent in the businessman’s smooth tone, and I wonder if he might not have been born here in the States. His name would certainly hint at an Eastern European descent. Though in New York, that means little these days.
