Lili frowns.
Absolutely not.
“—of course, London in the summer can be beautiful, so much milder than New York,” the woman’s saying. “We were just saying, Goldman has been hiring like crazy there, practically wading into the Cam with their grad schemes—”
“Thanks for waiting,” Lili says. She beams up at Aleksandr as she winds her hands around his arm, pressing herself into his side.
“Excuse us,” Aleksandr says to the woman. “Give my regards to your father.”
Sitting down, Lili watches the woman return to her table. She looks back over her shoulder at Aleksandr once with confused interest.
“Pretty,” Lili grumbles.
Aleksandr smiles as takes his seat beside her. “Like you said, it’s not as if this is a date.”
“Funny, I think I still have your come dripping down my thighs,” she snaps back.
Under the cast of amusement, his gaze darkens. “Good,” he says. “Take your underwear off.”
Lili stiffens. “Absolutely not.”
Aleksandr leans back, surveying the dining room. “Let’s play a game, then. That younger waiter either thinks this is a date, or you’re my daughter.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We look nothing alike.”
“Take the second bet, then, if you think your odds are better. He thinks this is dinner with your father.”
Lili snorts. “You’re exaggerating.”
“I’ll prove it. When I do, your underwear comes off.”
Catching the sommelier’s attention, Aleksandr gestures, perfunctory and confident, for another bottle of wine. One of their waiters—young twenties, earnest—is over fast with a fresh bottle.
“Anything we’re celebrating tonight?” he asks, uncorking the wine. “We have a lot of families with us for graduation.”
“Master’s thesis,” Lili volunteers.
“Congratulations!” he replies with a warm, genuine smile, as he fills her glass.
“We’re so proud of her,” Aleksandr says. Lili shoots him a stern look.
“Out to dinner with Dad to celebrate?”
Aleksandr’s victorious grin is absurd. “Yes, I had to take advantage.”
Under the table, Lili kicks him, aiming high, but he grabs her ankle, unperturbed and smiling. “Please let us know if there’s anything else we can do for you,” their waiter says, oblivious, as he finishes pouring their wine. Aleksandr strokes Lili’s ankle. “Anything to make the evening special, anything at all. Your next course will be right out.”
As soon as the waiter’s gone, Aleksandr lets go of her ankle. “Off, Lili.”
“That was cheating,” she hisses.
“We didn’t establish any rules. Off.”
Lili grimaces. She shoots a look around—hateslosing—but slips her underwear down her thighs. Snatching the scrap of lace, she stashes it in his pocket and scowls, crossing her legs.
Under the table, Aleksandr’s hand comes to her knee. “Thighs open.”
“Don’t be a sore winner,” she hisses.
