Tolyan shrugs, but his eyebrows pinch together harder, forming three deep lines. “It wouldn’t have been necessary if he hadn’t screwed up in the first place.”
“Everyone deserves a second chance.”
He makes a noise in his throat. “You’ll get along fine with Lizochka.”
When he kills the engine in front of the huge front door, it immediately bursts open and a small boy runs out.
“Tolyan!” he yells, his arms spread wide. His dark hair is cut stylishly to frame an angelic face with wide gray eyes and rosy lips. He’s in a red Spider-Man T-shirt and black shorts.
“Thomas.” Tolyan smiles and picks up the boy, lifting him up high above his head. “Look at you! Very big and strong now.”
“I know! Daddy says I’m a strong man, too. Says I need to protect Mommy.” The child smiles.
Tolyan’s smile becomes more brilliant, but I don’t think it’s because he’s pleased. His eyes have an odd gleam.
Thomas seems clueless as he smacks a loud kiss on Tolyan’s cheek.
A stunning blonde in a pink dress and strappy silver stilettos walks out, a gorgeous leather bag hanging from her slim arm. She walks up, her gray eyes shining with intelligence.
“Thomas went on pins and needles the moment the security system alerted us that you were here,” she says, then turns to me.
She’s the one who hosted that fancy hotel event. I brace for something snotty. Not overtly rude, since Tolyan’s here, but just enough to make me know she thinks I’m beneath her, since I’m never going to tell a Riesling from a Chardonnay by just looking.
A friendly, open smile curves her lips. “You must be the one.”
The one? Her eyes are twinkling too hard to have merely meant “the one I’m supposed to go shopping with.” “Hi. I’m Angelika Wilks.” I can’t seem to think of anything else to say.
“Elizabeth King.”
“A pleasure.”
She extends a hand, and we shake. She has an excellent grip, her palm dry and soft.
But confidence isn’t all she’s exuding. She’s giving off a vibe that says she can be my best friend if I’ll just let it happen. And I’m too dazed to process it at the moment.
“Where’s your security?” Tolyan says.
“Antoine’s busy,” Elizabeth says.
His face twists. “Doing what? Licking Kristen’s feet?”
“I’m sure that’s on his list of favorite things to do,” Elizabeth says with a mischievous grin, which makes Tolyan look like he wants to throw up. “But more likely he’s probably massaging them right now.” She turns to me. “His wife’s pregnant, and she’s pretty swollen.”
“That shouldn’t be a reason for leaving you unprotected.” Tolyan sounds like he wants to beat up somebody. Probably this Antoine guy.
“Well, you’re welcome to come shopping with us if you’re so worried.” Elizabeth sounds entirely too pleased with herself. I’d bet every penny I have that Antoine didn’t show because of her.
Tolyan purses his lips, a man trying to hold his irritation in check. He nods once.
“Let’s go.” Elizabeth loops her arm around mine. “We’re taking my Lamborghini.” She walks us toward an incredibly expensive-looking green car.
“I’ll follow,” Tolyan says.
Elizabeth looks at me and gestures to the two cars questioningly. Apparently, I have a choice to make. I glance at Tolyan, whose face is set in its usual stoic impassivity. Elizabeth, however, looks positively radiant, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
The Lamborghini it is. I climb inside, shifting a bit until I’m comfortable in the luxurious leather seat. I run my hand over it carefully; it feels unbelievably soft and smooth. Holy cow, when people say things like some cars smell like money, I always assumed they were being silly. How can a car smell like money when everyone knows cars drop in value the second you take them off the dealer’s lot?
But this car? It does smell like money. Lots and lots of it. There’s simply no other word.
Elizabeth launches us down the estate’s long driveway and onto the road. The woman doesn’t hold back, and the roar of the engine is like a physical thing, the power vibrating through me. My heart beats a little faster with exhilaration.
“So. Tell me how you met Tolyan. You’re living with him, right?” she asks, her eyes on the road.
He sort of kidnapped me yesterday. I don’t think that counts as living with him, but I can’t quite tell her the truth. “Well, sort of…”
“My God, that’s amazing.” She shoots me a look of admiration. I feel like a newly discovered jungle flower or something. “I’ve never even seen him with a woman before.”
“Really?”
“Mmm-hmm. And I’ve known him since I was a teenager.”
Tolyan is either really good at hiding things or he hasn’t been with anyone—seriously, anyway—for a long time. My heart flutters with something that feels like happy relief, but I suppress it. He’s rich, good looking, and powerful. There’s no way he hasn’t had anybody special for so long. “He’s probably had a lot of girlfriends. You just don’t know that he’s had them.”
Elizabeth laughs. “I would have known. Trust me. For example, I know that Gwen Alt has been after him for three years.” Her expression cools. “Not that it did her any good.”
“Who is Gwen Alt?” I ask, already not liking the mysterious woman. Just hearing her name makes my stomach burn uncomfortably.
“Ms. I Wanted Chardonnay, Not Riesling,” Elizabeth says in a singsong voice.
“Oh my God! Does she do that with everyone?”
“I saw her talking to you, by the way, although I didn’t know exactly what she said at that time. Otherwise, I might’ve intervened.” Elizabeth shakes her head ruefully. “As for your question, no. She has a different tantrum for every event, which is saying something, since her weekends are filled with parties. I make it my business to know everything that happens at the functions we host. And I’m sorry you had such an unpleasant experience.”
“It’s okay,” I say reflexively, surprised at the apology. It wasn’t like Elizabeth had anything to do with Gwen’s behavior.
“Anyway, it won’t happen again.” Her tone is too cool, too absolute, and I can’t argue. “Such a hypocrite. It isn’t as if she can tell different vintages apart by just looking and smelling them.”
That makes me feel better, especially since Gwen made it sound like me not being able to do that makes me the lowest of the ghetto scum.
Elizabeth drives us up Wilshire Boulevard and past Rodeo Drive. I glance at the street as we go past. One more block and she turns, turns again, and pulls into a parking structure. There’s not a mall in sight.
“Are we going shopping on Rodeo?” I ask, slightly nervous. There’s no way I can buy anything that comes from there.
“Oh, heavens no. Too many tourists.” Elizabeth finds a slot, cuts the engine and exits the car. I do the same as Tolyan’s SUV pulls in next to the Lamborghini. He jumps out lightly.
“The very best for your girl,” Elizabeth says with a bright smile.