He winked at me. “For dinner, of course.”
Halfway through my day, he’d asked if I was going to take time to eat lunch.
“Does the other half of the muffin you gave me earlier count?”
His lips thinned. “No.”
Next thing I knew, he was handing me a sandwich, chips, and iced tea from Subway. I protested, “I don’t usually eat between classes.”
He placed a finger under my chin and gazed at me with those midnight blue eyes of his. “But you will make an exception today, just for me.”
I melted. I couldn’t even speak. I just nodded and walked into my next class in a daze.
“Dinner? But I’m still full from the sandwich you gave me earlier.” That wasn’t exactly the truth. The real truth was I needed some space and time away from him. In the span of just two short days, Vaska was already taking over all aspects of my life. It was starting to feel like he belonged in my life, and that was beyond dangerous thinking.
Vaska snatched my Hello Kitty purse from my grasp. “Hey!”
He gave me a side-eyed glance before unzipping it and pulling out the clear to-go bag from Subway, still stuffed with more than half a sandwich.
I shrugged. “At least I ate the chips.”
Handing me back my purse, he started the car without another word. I guess I was going to dinner whether or not I liked it.
We returned to my apartment. Vaska checked his watch. “You have exactly thirty-five minutes to change.”
“That is not enough time!" I gestured down my body. “All of this just doesn’t happen, I’ll have you know.”
He wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed me hard on the lips. “You now have thirty-four minutes.”
With an indignant cry, I squirmed out of his embrace and ran down the hallway. Diving into my closet, I selected my black halter top dress with the black and white polka dots over the bodice and the red crinoline. Rushing into the bathroom, I stuck several bobby pins between my lips as I pulled out my braids and arranged my hair into several large victory roll curls. I then wrapped a red silk scarf around my hair like a headband. After touching up my eye makeup and lipstick, I shimmied into the dress.
When I opened the bathroom door, Vaska called out from the living room, “Four minutes.”
With a frustrated cry, I ran into my bedroom and fell to my knees inside my closet as I dug through all my shoe options. I finally settled on my red velvet pumps. They were a little scuffed at the heel, but no one would notice. I switched to a black patent leather clutch as I pushed my feet into my shoes. With one last look in the mirror, I tightened the saucy little red bow that rested just beneath my cleavage and spritzed Viva La Juicy on my neck and wrists before leaving the bedroom.
As I entered the living room, Vaska handed me a shot of tequila. “For courage.”
I drank the shot as he took a sip of that gasoline he called vodka from his flask.
After tucking the flask in his inside suit pocket, he stroked my cheek. “Ty vyglyadish’ prekrasno. Vozmozhno, nam stoit ostat’sya segodnya vecherom.”
“Did I forget to mention I don’t speak Russian?”
He chuckled. “I said you look beautiful. Perhaps we should just stay in tonight? I’m not sure I want to share you with the world.”
I placed a hand on my hip. “Oh, no, you don’t. I got ready. You’re taking me out!”
I grabbed him by the hand and marched us both through the front door. He halted our progress to type the thousand-digit code into the security motherboard. “Humor me by allowing me to actually arm the security system this time,” he said with a smirk.
We drove into Lincoln Park along Armitage. The valet immediately recognized Vaska and started stammering hello and assuring him he would take excellent care of the car. Vaska handed him a fifty-dollar bill and patted him on the cheek. Fifty dollars! No wonder the valet recognized him. We walked down a small flight of stairs. The Geja’s restaurant had a beautiful old European facade with flagstone, wood timbers, and lattice windows. I had never been, but I knew from Valentine’s Day promotions that they considered it one of the most romantic restaurants in Chicago.
The maître d’ warmly greeted Vaska as we crossed the threshold. The restaurant was warm and cozy with a low ceiling and lots of candles. Each table was its own private nook, hidden from the view of the other guests by yards and yards of draped fabric in rich jewel tones of gold, ruby, sapphire, and emerald.
They showed us to a secluded table. I settled myself into the booth on the other side of Vaska as a man quietly strummed a guitar nearby. When the maître d’ tried to hand me a menu, Vaska took it from my hand. “We will both have The Connoisseur and a bottle of your Amarone della Valpolicella, Allegrini.”
“Excellent choices, Mr. Rostov, as always.” He bowed and left us alone.
I bristled as I snapped the white cloth napkin onto my lap. “As always? So is this where you bring all your women?”
He sat back as he slowly unfolded his napkin. Finally he spoke. “Yes, it is.”
Tears pricked the back of my eyes. Well, ask a stupid question…
He reached for my hand. I pulled it back. His eyes narrowed. He leaned over the table, snatched my hand, and gripped it within his firm grasp. “You need to understand, krasotka. I’ll never lie to you. There is no reason for it. This is a restaurant with food I enjoy. I have enjoyed this food with other women before you. End of story.”
I looked away, skimming my gaze over the decor and the other slightly hidden patrons to compose myself. He was right, of course. Still, it was just one more reminder that I couldn’t take any of this seriously. No matter what he’d said earlier, I was still just the woman he was fucking… right now.
Vaska reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a red leather case with the name Cartier in gold embossed script lettering. He slid it across the table. “For you.”
Curious, I opened the lid. It was a brooch in the shape of a crouching panther. It was in a platinum setting and covered in white and black diamonds with two sparkling emeralds for eyes. There was also a heavy-looking matching clasp bracelet.
I was speechless.
Vaska slid into the seat next to me. He selected the brooch from its black velvet cushion and lifted the fabric of my dress to pin it on me. The back of his knuckles gently brushed the top of my breast. I held my breath.
“According to my research, your unique style favors brooches because of all the dresses and cardigan sweaters. Am I right?”
I nodded yes. He was right. Rockabilly outfits looked best with either pearls or a fancy brooch, which were so very much in fashion back in the fifties. That he would research such a thing before buying me jewelry was both shocking and endearingly thoughtful. Damn him.
Next, he picked up the bracelet as he lifted my wrist. The tips of his fingers rested against my skin. He leaned in. “I can feel your pulse race. Does this mean you like my gift?”
My chest felt tight. I had to force myself to breathe. “I couldn’t possibly accept these.”
I knew very little about super fancy, high-end jewelry, but I wasn’t an idiot. Cartier plus lots and lots of diamonds meant lots and lots of dollar signs.
He smiled. “Then it is a good thing I’m not giving you a choice.”
Before I could respond, a rather sinister-looking man approached the table. He had a lowered brow and thick lips clamped around the cold stub of a cigar. His hand rested on his protruding stomach, with each finger boasting a gold ring. “Vasili Rostov. It is fortunate we meet this night.” The man’s accent was even thicker than Vaska’s. He also had an odd way of talking out of one side of his mouth while he kept his teeth clenched down on the cigar stub.