I shrug. I don’t really care about the wedding…or the cake. Not like she does apparently. “I think everyone would like it,” I offer, and it’s the truth. You can’t go wrong with basic. And since I can’t have my favorite, I’ll settle for something everyone can enjoy.
Cosette turns to Helen and says, “We’ll think about it. Let Savina sleep on it. And then I’ll let you know.”
I roll my eyes. What my stepmother is basically saying is that she’ll pick the cakeshewants behind my back. I simply won’t have a say in it even though it’s ultimately my choice because it’smywedding.
“What was the whole point of today if she was just going to decide for you?” Darby whispers angrily beside me.
I sigh. “No idea.”
Cosette stands up and strikes a fork on her champagne glass, gathering everyone’s attention.
“But I think we’re about to find out,” I mutter.
“Since Dimitri and Pavel are here, I would liketo announce my upcoming costume ball next Saturday,” Cosette starts. “I throw it every year, and we donate a lot of money to charity. This year I’ll be holding it at a dear friend of mine’s home. Charles has the most beautiful property and America’s largest hedge maze.”
“A hedge maze? Is that really something people brag about?” Darby questions, and I shrug my shoulders.
“Everyone has to dress up and wear a mask,” Cosette says. “Don’t worry, Savina, I already bought your costume,” she whispers to me with a wink.
I inwardly groan. As Cosette goes on and on about the property and how many people will be attending, Darby and I take our paper plates and napkins to the garbage.
“She already bought your costume?” Darby grumbles.
“I’m sure it will be two sizes too small, just like when we went wedding dress shopping,” I mutter.
Dimitri is standing nearby, and I see him frown. Was he listening to us just now? He seems like his focus is on Cosette as she drones on about the party details, but maybe he’s just pretending to pay attention to her.
“Saturdays are my busiest nights at the bar,” Darby states with a wince.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to go,” I assure her with a dismissive wave of my hand. “It’s just some stupid party that Cosette likes to throw every year so that she can boast about how much money she raises for some bullshit nonprofit,” I explain.
Darby nods in understanding. “Speaking of the bar, I better get my ass to work.”
“Go. Your services are no longer needed here,” I say jokingly.
“Good. I’m so full of cake I could practically explode.”
I give her a hug before she leaves. I’m standing over by the half-finished wedding cakes, admiring their intricate craftmanship when I hear someone behind me. Assuming it’s Dimitri, I turn with a grin on my face. But my expression instantly falls when I realize it’s Pavel. “Oh, hi,” I say in surprise.
“Hi, Savina. I saw that you took a cab here. Could I possibly give you a ride home?”
“Did Dimitri tell you to do that?” I joke. But when I see Pavel’s smile falter, I realize that’s exactly what happened. “Uhm, sure,” I say quickly.
Seemingly relieved, he gestures towards the front door. I walk behind him, my eyes searching the store for Dimitri but coming up empty. He must have slipped out at some point without me realizing.
Pavel opens the door for me. And when we step out onto the busy sidewalk, I hear a motorcycle revving its engine down the block. The sound instantly draws my attention, and I see the murdered-out bike with Dimitri nestled on the seat. He flips down the visor of his helmet, and I swear I can feel his eyes on me even though I can’t see through the dark tint. My heart beats a little faster as I watch him rev the engine once more before pulling out of the parking space and flying past us down the street. He looks so cool and hot on that damn motorcycle. It should be illegal for someone like him to ride one.
“Uh, right this way,” Pavel says, ushering me towards a car that’s waiting for us at the curb.
Now that Dimitri is out of sight, I can put my full attention on Pavel. There’s just something about Dimitri that makes me lose my head when I’m around him. It’s like all logical thinking goes straight out the window, and I’m left with only carnal basic needs.
We both get in the back of the car; Pavel keeping his distance on one side of the bench seat as I stick to the other. “Does the driver know my address?” I question.
“Yes, he does,” Pavel answers.
The car starts moving into traffic, and the tension in the back grows with every passing street sign. It feels like our first date all over again.
Pavel clears his throat. “Uh, do you like your new apartment?” he asks, clearly trying to strike up some sort of conversation.
