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For several minutes, I sit in the room as it gets darker and darker. I jump when Vladimir opens the door without knocking.
“Get up,” he orders.
“Why?” I ask with worry. Is it my turn to get my nose broken?
“I’m taking you to Mr. Lee.”
“Why? What’s he going to do with me?”
Vladimir smirks. “Anything he wants.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Turns out I’m expectedfor dinner. That doesn’t sound too bad. But I’m still nervous because I don’t usually dine with triad members, and triad or not, Raphael Lee is not my first pick for a dinner partner, even if he does have exquisite taste in art.
I follow Vladimir into the dining room, which is just as amazing as every other room I’ve seen. The windows stretch wall to wall and floor to ceiling. A chandelier hangs over the entire length of the table, which seats fourteen. Fresh flowers in sterling silver pots grace the gleaming black tabletop. They’re short enough that I can see over them to where Rafe sits at the head of the table, while I sit at the other end. He’s no longer wet, which was a good look on him. His hair is styled back once again, and he wears a silk dinner jacket with a Mandarin collar.
This feels so surreal. I’m about to break bread with my captor. I wonder if anyone else will be joining us for dinner, but I think not when a server starts pouring champagne into my glass. I want to blurt to the server that I’m being held captive and need help, but she doesn’t make eye contact with me. Maybe I can pass her a note? But I don’t have anything to write with.
Another server sets down a plate with a soft-boiled egg cracked open and a cracker on the side, both topped with small steel-gray balls and garnished with bright green herbs.
“What is this?” I ask her.
“Beluga caviar,” Rafe answers.
I wonder if the man eats like this on a regular basis? I doubt the dinner is special just for me. I take a sip of the champagne to calm my nerves.
Wow. This stuff is good. I could guzzle this down easy.
“Boerl & Kroff Brut Millesime, 1995,” Rafe tells me, as if I might go out and buy a bottle for myself tomorrow.
“Beats my bottle of ‘Two-Buck Chuck,’” I say.
From his expression, it’s clear he has no idea what I’m talking about, just like I have no idea what a Boerl & Kroff Brut Millesime is.
I force myself to put down the wine and pick up the cracker. Not sure if I’ll like caviar, I take a small bite. The caviar has a buttery texture I didn’t expect and less fishiness flavor, more ocean-like.
