“You didn’t tell us you were bringing someone,” Eleanor chastised Jonah, ruffling his already unruly hair. “In fact, you didn’t even tell us you were dating anyone, though I can understand why you’d want to keep this one hidden away. How long have you been seeing each other?”
“A while,” Jonah said. “I, uh, wasn’t sure Sacha could make it, so I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”
“Is my fault,” Sacha supplied. “I have been away on business a lot this month. It finished earlier than I thought.”
“What do you do for business, Sacha? Do you work in advertising like Jonah?”
“No. Software development. Apps and social media.”
“He works at Blutecc,” Jonah said. “I can see him from my desk.”
Sacha slid his arm around Jonah’s waist, pulling him closer. “You never told me that.”
“You never asked.”
Eleanor Gray laughed and offered Sacha her gloved hand again. “Well, isn’t this nice? Did you know, Sacha, you’re the first date my son has ever brought to this party? You must be very special to him.”
“I hope to be,” Sacha said.
“I’m sure you already are,” Jonah’s father chimed in. “Now, don’t let us cramp your style. Go and mingle and drink. We’ll catch up later.”
Tension melted from Jonah’s tall frame. He kissed his mother one more time, then grabbed Sacha’s hand and tugged him into the glorious ballroom the Dorchester was famous for. It was decorated for the festive season, draped in gold and twinkly lights. A live jazz band played at the front where an area had been cleared for dancing. The rest of the room was filled with round tables and rich people. Wait staff floated around with trays of champagne, cognac, and orange juice.
Jonah grabbed two flutes from a tray and pressed one into Sacha’s hand. “The first of many.” He tipped his own glass to his lips. “You’ll need to be drunk to get through this nonsense.”
“Nonsense? You don’t like this crowd?”
Jonah kept moving until they came to a vacant table. On the way, he waved to people who called his name, but didn’t engage. “It’s not that I don’t like them. I don’t know ninety percent of these people.”
“But they know you.”
“Of course they do. Famous, remember?”
“For what?”
“For being rich. It’s not an accolade I’m proud of.”
“Cursed by nepotism?”
“Not exactly, but my company is housed in a building my family owns and I only started paying the full rent last year, so make of that what you will.”
Sacha smiled and took a healthy sip of champagne. “You mistake me for someone who does not understand privilege.”
“Are your parents billionaires, Sacha Ivanov?”
“Not quite. But I am from a wealthy Russian family. To be rich is to be born, yes? But you knew I would speak that language or you would not have asked me to accompany you tonight.”
Jonah took a seat at the table and gestured for Sacha to do the same. Once they were both seated, he angled his chair, pointing his knees at Sacha’s. “I was mostly joking. It didn’t really cross my mind that it would happen.”
“And yet here we are. That speaks to me of something unsaid.”
“I like how you speak,” Jonah said. “The way you phrase things is so different and yet the same.”
“I will take that compliment. A man in a coffee shop called me something much worse yesterday.”
“Why?”
Sacha shrugged. “I did not ask, but I was talking on my phone in Russian and I don’t think he liked it.”
