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I peer at him over the table. I don't think Leo's blinkedonce. My cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Sorry. I'm rambling. You must think it's pretty naive of me, huh?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“No?”
“There's nothing wrong with wanting to see the good in others,” he says stoically. The words are stiff rolling off his tongue, almost like he doesn't believe what he's saying. “Did they find who did it?”
“Not yet, unfortunately.”
His jaw visibly tenses, the muscles in his face tightening. “Hm.”
“It's only a matter of time.”
“Do you think they might come after you?”
I swallow a bite of my food. “I hope not. I don't think I've pissed anyone in the company off, so…”
Leo clenches his fist, his whole demeanor suddenly sour. “Be careful.”
I can't help but smile. His concern is touching, but unnecessary. Something this grave will be taken care of quickly, not only to bring the culprit to justice, but also to stamp out any rumors from getting out to the public. There's no telling what sort of repercussions could occur if people learned about what happened to Vanya ahead of the show. It could tarnish the Bolshoi's reputation—which is all the more reason for the administration to handle this as quickly and quietly as possible.
“I've been talking about myself all night,” I mumble. “Tell me about you.”
“What would you like to know?”
“How did you come to own a taxi company?”
Leo sits back, relaxing a little. “My brothers and I founded it together.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Four. Well, three and a half.”
I giggle. We may not be drinking alcohol, but I feel strangely drunk. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“Long story.”
“I have time.”
Leo presses his lips into a thin line and crosses his arms over his chest. “It's not a fun story. Maybe on our second date.”
Giddy excitement rises in my chest. “There's going to be a second date?”
“If you permit it.”
I smile at him coyly. His deadpan delivery is hilarious. Who even talks like that? “Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I'd like that very much.”
“Mr. Nicolaevich?”
Leo and I both look up at the man standing directly next to our table. He's all sweaty for some reason, his brow shiny, and he’s sporting unfortunate pit stains.
“Do you need something?” Leo asks flatly.
“I'm Tym, the owner. I was wondering if I might have a word with you in private?”
I glance between the two of them, concern swirling in the pit of my stomach. Oh God, is this about earlier? Is it because I'm not dressed to the nines and Leo made a tiny scene about not having the drink I wanted?
“Is everything alright?” I ask.
