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But none of that interests me as much as the woman sitting with a glass of wine in her hand and a pout on her pretty face. Her hair is done up in a messy bun, and her eyes are like jewels heated to a thousand degrees.
Taylor Lafford.
My prize.
My future.
3
Taylor
Ithought my father was bringing one of his usual dinner guests, a stout man in his fifties, not a fucking model who looks like his hobbies include bench-pressing cars and electrocuting people with his eyes.
I sit up so quickly from my slouched position that I almost splash wine onto my shirt. Suddenly, I feel like I should’ve just listened to my father and worn the silk dress instead of throwing on a t-shirt to meet the devil’s personal trainer.
My father pulls out a chair across from me for his guest like he’s royalty, and then quickly hurries to the other side of the table to seat himself.
“Taylor, I’d like you to meet Mr. Belov.”
I’m too stunned to speak.
“Please, just Danya is fine,” he says with a thick Russian accent.
I feel like melting into the wood grain of my chair. I can’t say anything, not with the way Danya is looking at me. His eyes are piercing me like two iron daggers that have been dipped in dry ice. They’re so cold that I shiver, goosebumps erupting on my arms and legs.
My father smiles, looking at me expectantly. “Taylor, why don’t you tell Danya a little about yourself. I’m sure he’d love to know what you’ve been up to lately.”
My mind races as I try to come up with a response. What have I been doing lately? Texting Jacob about how much of a dick he was to take Emily to the beach instead of me? I doubt that’s what Danya wants to hear, and I doubt he’d be the least bit amused by my immature relationships.
I need to say something more impressive, something that will give him a good feeling about me. I don’t know why, but I feel like my life depends on it.
I open my mouth while still in the process of thinking, putting my wine glass down so that I don’t spill it. “Um, I was going to go to the beach today, but, uh, it was raining.”
If he wasn’t obviously trying to impress Danya, I’m sure my father would’ve slapped his palm into his forehead.
But Danya doesn’t seem bothered by it, giving me a slight smirk as he replies. “Yes, the rain is coming down quite heavily. I must say, I’ve never seen it rain so hard in Russia as in the United States. It’s snowing back home, actually.”
“That sounds nice,” I reply, my voice thin and quiet even though I’m trying my best to project it across the table. I take a sip of my wine.
“The snow is beautiful, but not as much as you are,” Danya says.
I choke on my wine, coughing it across the white tablecloth all the way to Danya’s side of the table. “Sorry, sorry,” I say, jumping up and grabbing my napkin, attempting to dab out the purple stains in the fabric.
“Jesus, Taylor… really?” my father groans.
“It’s quite alright,” Danya says calmly. “I must’ve caught her by surprise.”
I sit back down as the server brings the food, and the table falls back into silence as she puts everything down in front of us. Now even more than before, I want to disappear. My cheeks are burning so bright that I’m certain Danya can see the crimson flush through my foundation.
I’m not going to be able to get through this dinner without making a fool out of myself again. There’s just no way I can hold it together when Danya is looking at me like that.
LikeI’mthe food.
I attempt to drink more wine, careful not to look at Danya while I’m doing so. I can barely function with the way his eyes are all over me. Can’t he just look away for even a moment? I thought he was here to talk with my father, not ogle me over dinner.
“Taylor has many hobbies,” my father blurts out of nowhere as soon as the food is in front of us. “She’s really quite a smart girl.”
I sigh. “Dad, I can speak for myself.”
