I get up before he can object any further. She’s dropped a fork, so she doesn’t see me coming just yet. A second later, she sits back up and her line of sight connects with my eyes. She freezes like a caught deer.
“Hi,” I say. “Natalya Petrov… right?”
“Yes,” she says and smiles up at me. “And you’re Anton Romanov. Nice to see you.”
“Likewise,” I say. “I saw you and thought it would be impolite not to come over and say hello. The last time I saw you, you were… well, younger.”
Her cheeks pinken as she looks away coyly. “Yeah,” she says. “It was probably right before I went to college.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Right. I think that was… four years ago?”
“Yes. I just graduated. Bachelor’s degree in liberal arts now.”
“Nice. So, what are your plans now that school’s done?”
“Um…” The pink in her cheeks deepens. “I haven’t decided yet. Still living in my father’s pool house. Trying to figure out what’s next.”
“I see. May I sit?”
“Please.”
I sit down in her friend’s seat. She’s not meeting my eyes and squirming a little in her seat, her face fully blushing. “You seem a little nervous, Natalya.”
I speak her name and she gives me this look, like a bell just rang behind her eyes. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a conversation,” she says. “Every time I’ve seen you, it’s been in passing. Like, some event at the house or something. Talking to you now is a little… well, it’s throwing me off.”
“Same,” I say, and she smiles. “You have a beautiful smile. In fact, everything about you is gorgeous.”
“Th–Thank you,” she says meekly. “You didn’t come all the way over here to compliment me, did you?”
“I did, actually. I saw a woman sitting at a table and I had the thought, ‘There is the most beautiful woman in this room. Hands down. If I don’t walk over there and say something to her, I’ll kick myself later.’”
She stares at me, her smile flickering. “Are you hitting on me, Mr. Romanov?”
“Absolutely.”
The flickering increases and forms into a broad smile. She looks away in an effort to hide it from me. “You’re very forward.”
“I have to be.” Then in Russian, “Men of the brotherhood don’t have time to waste on small talk.”
She regards me for a few seconds and returns in Russian, “Men of the brotherhood are trouble.”
I laugh. “You think so? Is that what your father always told you? Stay away from Bratva men?”
“Among other things, yes.”
“Hmm.” Then in English, I say, “Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m the guy your father tried to warn you about.”
I want to say more, ask her to accompany me back to my place. I don’t know if she’d take me up on it, but how nice it would be if she did.
But… Mikki is right. Flirting is the safest thing I can do with Natalya and I might end up needing her father’s Bratva in the coming war. Best not to burn that bridge by fucking his daughter.
“I’d better get back to my table.” I go to stand.
“Would you like to get some coffee sometime?” she asks me. “Or… maybe dinner?”
Bold. I wonder how much of her courage she had to summon to ask me out. “Maybe,” I say. I reach into my pocket and pull out one of my cards. “Call me sometime.”
She takes it and with a smile, she says, “Thanks. I will.”
