My annoyance gets the better of me, and I huff, “All of this doesn’t impress me,” with a wave of my hand around the venue.
“The food will. It’s incredible.”
I roll my eyes again. Either he’s making a point of misunderstanding on purpose, or he’s dumb.
I try again. “I don’t care about your money, your wealth, or your status, Adrian. It doesn’t matter, and it doesn’t make you a good person.”
He smiles dangerously, his eyes darkening as he stares at me across the table. My heart beats faster, and I press my lips together, then bite the lower one as the intensity of his gaze catches me off guard.
“I never claimed to be a good person, Athena. But I know I am a better person than your father.”
The comment takes me by surprise. If he is trying to win me over with this dinner date, then why bring up my father again?
Choosing to ignore his comment, I pick up my wine glass and busy myself with swirling the contents of it in a slow, lazy circle.
“What do you do anyway?” I ask, reluctant to talk, but figuring I should at least learn about the man who is holding me prisoner.
“Import and export.”
“Congratulations on being as vague as possible,” I huff.
He laughs. This time, a genuine, down-to-earth laugh.
“Sorry, force of habit. The problem is that, usually, when I get asked about my business, it’s from people trying to knock me down or take advantage of me in some way. It’s a cutthroat world, and you have to watch your back at all times.” He sips his wine and sets the glass back on the table. I watch his elegant, long fingers, distracted by them for a moment.
“I import and export a variety of products, focusing mainly on connecting ports in Chicago, Riga, and Moscow. It’s a fascinating challenge to determine the best shipping methods for specific products. People don’t realize the challenge behind it or the minute details that need to be taken into account. I enjoy my job—and the challenge of it.” He speaks with passion and pride about what he does.
“Do you work with a lot of people?” I ask.
“Yes, we have multiple warehouses, distribution centers, and numerous teams working in each location that need management. It’s why I run such a tight ship. Things must be inorder, structured, meticulous, or one team won’t know what the next is doing, and nothing will run smoothly.”
As he talks, I ask more questions, forgetting that I am gathering intel and plotting an escape. I get lost in the conversation and start to enjoy myself.
The food arrives, and it’s enough to snap me out of the daze. I pick up my wine, annoyed with myself for the hundredth time since I met this man. It’s not good that he pulls me in so easily.
Pushing my wall back into place, I point-blank refuse to be charmed by him.
He took me from my father’s home. He forced me to marry him. He can talk all he wants; I know he’s not the good guy in all of this.
We eat in silence because he asks a few questions about me, and I keep my answers so blunt and short that he gets the point. I don’t want to talk anymore. It’s risky because talking to him makes me forget to hate him.
We’re almost done with dinner when Adrian’s phone rings.
“Yes?” he says abruptly. “Yes. Alright. Thank you.”
He hangs up and slips the phone into the inside of his jacket pocket.
Standing up, he offers me his hand. “Come,” he says. Not a request. A command. And without thinking, I obey, standing up and placing my hand in his.
I scold myself afterward becausewhy,so I make it so easy for him.
He leads me to the reception area, and almost as soon as we get close, an older man smiles at him. “Mr. Volkov, as you requested, sir,” he says. He hands him a package.
“Sit,” Arian tells me, gesturing to the velvet sofa.
I sit, wondering what in the world is going on, when Adrian kneels in front of me and pulls my foot onto his lap.
He opens the package and pulls out a pair of limited-edition Gucci sneakers in black leather with diamond-encrusted detailing.
