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“Well, obviously not, since you’ve forgotten how to take a compliment without choking. Don’t be so shy.”
“I’m fine,” I reply through gritted teeth, flashing a nervous smile toward Danya. “I’m really fine. I was just surprised, like you said. I haven’t met many men who speak their minds like that. They’re usually too scared.”
“And why would they be scared of you?” Danya replies, raising a thick eyebrow in amusement.
I shrug. “I’m pretty. I guess that’s enough.”
“A real man knows how to handle pretty girls,” he says, the words rolling off his tongue like sticky black licorice.
I look to my father for defense and support, but he seems excited by Danya’s obvious advancements. I thought this was a business meeting, but something else is obviously going on.
“Well, not just pretty,” I say, my lips struggling to curl up into a smile. “I’m also a bitch. You can ask my father.”
Danya laughs, clearly amused by my attitude, but I know my father is searing in his little wool suit. He’s always got a stick up his ass.
Danya picks up his fork, examining it closely as though he’s checking to see if it’s clean. His mannerisms are bizarre, but at least he’s not like the boring slobs my father usually brings to the house. I’ll have a story to tell my friends later.
I dig into my food, trying and failing to avoid Danya’s constant gaze. He makes me forget all about the men I’ve dated in the past, the failed relationships with guys who thought getting drunk and high constituted a perfect first date. Something tells me Danya would want me on my knees with a belt around my neck if I let him take me out.
Our beginning would be the immediate end of my virginity.
I eat my steak so fast that I have to grab at the bread basket several times just to keep food on my plate. No food means I have to start talking again, and I’m not prepared to face Danya. Not before I’ve had a couple glasses of wine, at least.
My father kicks my foot under the table, shooting me a warning look as I pour myself another glass of Malbec. I reply by filling the glass all the way to the brim, smirking as I put it to my lips.
Danya remains quiet through this, though I know he’s watching me. Maybe he thinks I’m silly, but what weight does his opinion hold? I’m probably not going to see him again after this. My father just wants to do business with him, and he needs me to entertain him before they talk. That’s always how it is.
But usually, my father dismisses me toward the end of dinner. Tonight, he’s keeping me at the table even as the plates are swapped for ash trays and the cigars roll out.
The smoke is thick and acrid, but the way Danya’s lips curve around his cigar makes me enjoy the experience. I slouch in my chair, taking a deep drink of my wine as the buzz starts to make me tingle with warmth.
This isn’t so bad. I’m even starting to think it’s better than my previous plan to spend the night at the beach with Jacob.
Jacob who…?
My father looks at me, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head up like he expects me to sit up straight. Not after that much wine. I’m staying right here.
He sighs, looking toward Danya. “I think you and Taylor would be great together. I can really feel the chemistry.”
I nearly fall out of my chair.
Danya chuckles. “Let’s see what she has to say about all this.” He looks me dead in the eye, and I’m instantly lost in his intoxicating gaze. Wine has nothing on the way he can make me feel, and he hasn’t even touched me.
Yet.
“What do you think, Taylor?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. “Do you think we have chemistry?”
My panties have been embarrassingly wet since the moment I laid eyes on his commanding jaw and prominent nose. He strikes me as the type of man who would fuck first and ask names later, but he already knows mine.
What does that mean for me?
I forgot what he just asked me, and I have to look to my father for direction. He nods his head, his eyebrows up to what would be his hairline if he had any hair. I don’t think he’s had a single strand since I was five.
I nod with him, looking back at Danya. “Yes,” I say, not quite knowing what I’m saying yes to.
He smirks. “Then it will come as a pleasure to you that I am not just here for dinner. I have come to ask for your hand in marriage.”
All the things he could’ve said to me, and he has to come out of the blue with that line. What the actual fuck?
