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“And what about you, Alma, don’t you miss California?” Grace asks me. “I don’t know how you do it. Paris is so dull!”
Her comment startles me, and my knife shoots out of my hand and over to the other side of the table. Scarlet-faced, I try to retrieve it while stammering an apology.
“Grace, be careful what you say in front of Alma,” Vadim cuts in, getting a laugh from everyone, “she can react unpredictably. And anyway, despite having studied in Los Angeles, I think her heart has always remained here, in France…”
“Exactly!” I reply, a little louder than I intended. “Paris is authentic. It’s both modern and steeped in history. It’s exciting, a real melting pot of cultures. I feel at home here. And don’t forget that France is the birthplace of cinema! I guess the United States simply couldn’t hold on to me. I don’t know how else to put it… I just never felt like I belonged there.”
I hope Arcadi catches my meaning. After all, he’s the one who started it.
“I admit that Paris has an undeniable charm, but personally, I miss New York,” Kate says as Vadim gives me a dark look.
“Ladies and gentlemen, for the main course, may I suggest the chef’s recommendation?” A waiter in a penguin suit interrupts us, addressing the table in a syrupy tone.
“Forget about the chef. The boss recommends caution,” Vadim mutters, throwing me another deathly stare.
“I’ll have the reimagined coq au vin,” I reply without hesitation.
“Typically French, no surprises, completely risk-averse,” he comments.
“Oh, keep your opinions to yourself,” Grace scolds him. “I’ll have the same thing!”
I gloat a little—before remembering that I’m definitely not teaming up with her.
The conversation resumes and, luckily for me, Peter and Vadim launch into a debate that doesn’t concern me. Probably too intimidated to talk to Kate, the actress takes the opportunity to chew my ear off, peppering me with trivial questions and superficial remarks in the style of a teenager. She isn’t an unpleasant person, but I’m relieved to note that I was right: Grace Montgomery has an opinion on everything and knowledge about nothing. She wouldn’t hurt a fly, except perhaps if she bored it to death. And even then, she’d probably raise it from the dead with one of those outrageous laughs.
I’m digging into my champagne-infused dessert, hoping this evening will soon be over, when a loud ringtone cuts through the room. Without worrying herself in the slightest about the interruption to our dinner, Grace snat=ches up her phone to answer the incoming video call. She bursts into raucous, delighted squeals. Vadim murmurs a few words in her ear, and she sighs, gets to her feet, and sashays away. All eyes are on her, which is exactly what she’d hoped for.
Kate and Peter exchange a knowing glance. As the couple gets into a heated discussion about the dangers of our collective addiction to cell phones, Vadim stares straight into my eyes. I hold his gaze, determined not to be the first to look away. He is gorgeous—that hasn’t changed. His sun-kissed skin, his wavy brown hair, his bright, penetrating eyes, his well-defined jawline, his mischievous smile, his full lips… It’s hard to keep hating him.
A few minutes after stepping away, Grace rushes back to the table, tottering along on her high platform heels. Obviously upset by her mysterious phone call, she explains to us that she has to leave right away. She kisses her billionaire on the cheek, performs a couple of exaggerated curtsies, and then disappears. Vadim doesn’t insist that she stay, nor does he offer to escort her home.
A quarter of an hour later, it’s Kate and her husband’s turn to head off, after toasting one last time to the success of King France and thanking Vadim for the “wonderful” dinner. That’s not the word I would have used, but it doesn’t matter; I take advantage of their departure to gather my things.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Vadim asks me in French.
“Home. Why? Am I supposed to wait for your permission?”
“No, but I have things to tell you.” It sounds like an order, but he gives me a languid smile.
I’m tempted to disobey him and leave, just to prove a point. But I’ve been waiting for days to be alone with him and find out what’s on his mind.
“I’m all yours,” I say sarcastically.
“So, how was the dinner for you?”
I sigh and decide to be honest. “Isn’t it obvious? It was cruel of you to put me through that… rubbing you and Grace in my face.”
“Well, it’s not like you spared me, with all those scathing comebacks.”
He looks me at hungrily, and I ignore the tingling sensation spreading through my body.
“Vadim, can you tell me what I’m doing here? What sort of game are you playing? If I’m just a booty call, you can forget it…” My voice cracks.
“I’m obsessed with you, Alma. I try so hard, but no matter what I do, I can’t get you out of my head.”
“Then why do you keep sending me mixed signals? It’s not fun or exciting. It’s exhausting. Make a decision. Now.”
“Hmm, let’s see… Get back together with the woman who broke my heart or fire her so I’m no longer tempted to undress her and cover her with kisses every time I see her?”
