I couldn’t look more modest if I were wearing a nun’s habit. I have my long red hair up in a nice, neat bun and I’m wearing a minimal amount of makeup. In this light, the eyeliner around my eyes makes them look a little rounder than they are. I hate the way I look without it, though. Me sans makeup gives twelve-year-old. My face his oval-shaped, but I can see the remnants of the chubby cheeks I had when I was a child. That and my big, innocent blue eyes are the reasons I’m always carded when I order drinks in restaurants.
It’s a good thing I’m not prone to freckles. That would make it so much worse.
I leave the pool house and make my way to the house, my heart pounding in my chest. I walk into the kitchen and I’m hit with the warm smell of dinner. The cook is one of my father’s associates, Liliana. She’s an older woman with a shock of white hair and has always been incredibly thin and frail looking, despite the fact that every time I’ve ever seen her she’s either eating or cooking. She’s just pulling out a roast as I walk in and she glances over at me as she sets the pan down on the counter.
“There you are,Natashka,” she says as she walks across the kitchen to embrace me and kiss me on the cheek. She stands back and looks at my dress. “You look beautiful, my dear.”
“Thank you.” I glance around the kitchen, more toward the hall leading to my father’s office. “Where’s my father?”
“He’s still in his office,” Liliana says as she goes back to the roast. “He’ll be out once the table is set. Don’t you worry.”
I nod and glance at the clock on the wall. It’s seven already and Andrei’s not here. Oh, boy.
“It’s just turned seven,” Liliana says. “He’s not late yet. He will be here.”
I just nod. I’ve got a good mind to wait in the foyer just to see his lights as he pulls up. Instead, I walk around to the salad she’s prepared and I steal a grape tomato. “Thanks for cooking,” I say to her. “I know my father pays you and all but somebody ought to thank you for all this.”
“I don’t need thanks,” she says. “I owe your father my life. The least I can do is come over and make dinner for his family every once in a while.”
The doorbell rings and I stiffen. My heart leaps in my chest. “That’s him.” My legs are moving before I know it. I get to the foyer just as my father opens the door.
Shit.I steel myself as the door opens. Andrei, wearing a beautiful dark blue suit, stands on the other side of my front door. He looks so handsome. He’s got a fresh hair cut, tapered on the sides and a little long at the top, and he’s clean-shaven and very neat looking.
He looks like the first time I met him on the quad, this sweet boy with a nice smile who had to get up the nerve to talk to me.
“Mr. Petrov, I presume?” he asks. My father nods and steps aside.
“Come in,” he says. He steps in and sees me. His smile broadens. I take Andrei by the hand, kissing him on the cheek.
“You made it,” I say to him. I turn to my father, who’s just standing and staring at us. “Dad, this is Andrei. Andrei, this is Vladimir Petrov, my father.”
Andrei sticks his hand out to my father, who looks at it, then shakes it. I see Andrei wince from my father’s grip. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Likewise.”
They stare at one another awkwardly for a second and Andrei says, “Something smells really good. I’m starved.”
Before I can agree, my father says, “The table still needs to be set. Natalya, help Liliana while I speak privately with your boyfriend.”
I glare at my father, giving him my best silent signal to remind him to be nice. He barely acknowledges me. “Papa, I can make us some drinks while we wait?—”
“Nonsense,” he says, then he turns around and starts walking toward his office. “This way, Andrei.”
Andrei looks at me tentatively but then lets go of my hands and follows my father. My stomach sinks into my shoes as he turns the corner.
No matter what he says, you should keep things going with him.That’s what Ilya said to me, and she’s right. Whatever my father is planning on saying to Andrei, I’m not going to let him ruin this.
I go into the kitchen and help Liliana with the food and set the table. It takes less than five minutes, maybe, but it feels like hours. I keep looking over my shoulder.
Finally, my father and Andrei return. He doesn’t look beat up or like he’s been crying. In fact, he looks just fine. He walks up to me and greets me with a kiss on the cheek before regarding the spread in front of us. “This looks really good.”
We sit down at the table, Andrei next to me and my father at the head of the table. I’m dying to know what happened in my father’s office. Hopefully, Andrei will tell me when all this is over.
“So, Natalya neglected to mention what you were in school for,” my father says as we make our plates.
“I’m in medical school,” he says. “I’m studying to be a thoracic surgeon.”
He nods. “You have to have good hands for that. Take care of them and all that.”
