Chapter 12 Roman
ROMAN
"You have a beautiful home." Sofi sits across from me in my dining room, turning her fork between her fingers.
Hosting her is annoyance more than anything else, but it may allow me to gain more insight into her mother.
I consider it a business deal that is sadly unavoidable.
"Mama said it was, but I didn't believe her.
" Unfortunately, Sofi is treating this like it's a social call and I'm thrilled to be in her presence.
"I'm glad you approve," I say tartly, but she doesn't pick up on the tone. It appears that Ms. Koval is just like her mother in that aspect, so self-absorbed, she has no sense of how others around her feel.
"It's much nicer than Anton's house…" Sofi picks up a piece of smoked salmon and folds it into her bread as Sara sets a plate of pickled vegetables between us and Sorin fills Sofi's glass with red wine.
Sofi takes a drink as soon as her glass is full, and a crescent of lipstick stays on the rim when she puts the glass back down.
"This wine's good," she says. "What is it?" I'm amazed at her ability to find useless things to discuss. If Vera thinks this behavior would ever win a man of my stature, she is sorely mistaken. Her daughter needs a lesson in etiquette and several more years of maturity to ever capture a man's eyes.
"Georgian. Saperavi," I tell her and watch her wince.
"Mama drinks French. She says Georgian is for old men." She takes another drink and shrugs. "I think it's better than anything she has at home." Mama this, Mama that—she speaks like a girl still, not the woman of twenty-five that she is. She's still sucking the tit and it's somewhat comical.
"Sabine wanted to come tonight," she says as she chews.
"She was angry when Mama told her it was only me.
" Sofi grins widely, and I catch movement to my right where Mila sits with her tablet in hand ready to take notes.
Every so often, she scowls at me from her perch on a wingback chair across the room.
She didn't want to be present, and I forced her.
There was never any need for her to take notes as I instructed, but I am curious about the dynamic here between stepsisters.
Besides, she'd have been eavesdropping anyway. And after having my way with her the other day, I want her around me more. I enjoy her presence and watching her squirm.
"There'll be other dinners."
"That's what I said." She tears off another piece of bread and drags it through the oil on her plate.
"She didn't want to hear it. You know how sisters are.
" Her hand waves around in the air a few times before she shoves the oversized piece of bread into her mouth and chews, making her cheek puff out. That makes Mila roll her eyes.
"I have a brother," I tell her, and she shrugs.
"Same thing." She grins, and a piece of bread sticks to her bottom lip before she catches it with her tongue. "Timur, right? Mama told me about him. She said he's the quiet one."
"He is." I sigh and sit back in my seat.
I haven't touched my food, which Ms. Koval has yet to notice, and I couldn’t care less about this annoying chatter.
It makes me wonder if Vera tried to coach her at all.
A dinner like this is supposed to be about talking compatibility and strategy, not nonsense surface level conversation no one cares about.
It's obvious Sofi has no clue that her mother is using her as a pawn, and I have to wonder why Vera sent her at all. To insult me?
"And you're the loud one?"
"I wouldn't say loud." I twist my glass and start to wonder how quickly I can get this over with and maybe get Mila alone.
I've been toying with the idea of wearing down her walls, stripping away the layers of her defenses until she bares her soul to me and then moving in to have my way with her again. One time wasn’t enough. I want more.
"No, you wouldn't." Sofi picks up her wine and takes another drink, her eyes moving across the table to the empty chairs between me and Mila.
"You'd say forceful, or commanding." I pick up a hint of resentment in Sofi's expression toward Mila before she shoves another bite of food in her mouth, though Mila's head is down.
Probably wise of her. She has more tact in her left pinky than Sofi will ever have.
Sorin, who's been hovering across the room, refills her glass without being asked, and Sofi thanks her with a wave of her fingers, still chewing. She turns in her chair and looks down the table at Mila.
"Is Mila joining us or is she going to sit over there all night writing on that tablet?" The accusatory way she speaks makes it clear she has no interest in Mila actually joining us. She's disgusted and annoyed.
Mila's shoulders stiffen and I watch her jaw work for a second. "She's taking notes for me," I say.
"Notes about what?"
"About you."
Sofi snickers and leans back in her chair. "Well, write this down, Mila. I'm having a wonderful time." It makes Mila squirm in her seat, but her hands stay relaxed as she types something into the tablet.
I wonder if the tables were turned if Sofi would have as much self-control as to keep her comments to herself.
Mila is doing a great job, though much like the man in my fight club office with the weapon gave off several signals that his mind was on other things, Mila is too.
I bet she hates that her stepsister is here and wants her gone.
Sofi continues to prattle on and my phone buzzes, so I slide it out and hold it low where none of the three women in this room can see me swipe to unlock it and find out who is texting me.
Timur: 7:42 PM: Got a sec? I have some questions.
My brother is working now on digging up some information for me, and now feels like the perfect time. If I have questions or need verification, I think Ms. Koval and her flapping jaw may be the best person to ask.
Roman: 7:42 PM: Go…
I set it face down on my leg and pick up my water glass.
"Your mother married Anton eleven years ago, yes?"
"Eleven in March." Sofi reaches for her wine again with absolutely no trace of grief or remorse, just like Vera when I bring this topic up. "Why?"
"Just curious…" I take a drink of my wine and savor it as I watch her. For now she seems very interested, still eager to have my full attention. "Where did the three of you live before Perm?"
"Kazan. We had a flat near the university." She pushes a slice of cucumber around her plate with her fork. "I was young, so I don't remember much about it. Sabine says she remembers a park we used to go to, but I think she's making it up. She was little too."
"Sabine's younger?" At thirteen, I'd have thought these girls would remember far more. If Sofi says she has few memories at that age, I wonder what sort of stressful environment or trauma was involved to cause that.
"By two years. She acts older, though." Sofi eats the cucumber and picks up another one. "Year older than Mila." When the cucumber crunches and juice dribbles on her chin, she mops it up with a napkin and grins at me as she continues chewing.
My phone vibrates again and I pull it out to see Timur's response.
Timur: 7:44 PM: I'm doing some digging and it's not pulling up much. Are there other aliases?
Roman: 7:44 PM: Working on it. She's talking.
"How did your mother meet Anton?"
"Through a friend, I think." Her voice drops and she glances toward the doorway where Sorin stands with a fresh bottle. "Mama doesn't talk about it. I was maybe eleven, so I didn't pay attention."
"She doesn't talk about her life before Anton?"
"No, we don't really talk about it." Sofi takes a long drink of wine and sets the glass down.
Now she's starting to slow down and act off.
She narrows her eyes at me. "Why are you asking all of this?
Mama said this dinner was supposed to be about getting to know each other. Not an interview about her."
"It is about getting to know you. Your mother raised you. That's part of who you are." My justification is weak, but she doesn't seem to be a very intelligent woman. Maybe I'm being harsh, but she has a lot of growing up to do.
"I suppose." She twists her fork and purses her lips as her head cocks to the side. "What about your mother? Fair is fair."
"My mother died when I was twelve."
"Oh," she says, and her voice drops. "I'm sorry."
"It was a long time ago. Your father?"
Sofi's eyes go wide, and her color fades a little as she looks down at her plate and seems to shrink inwardly. "He died when I was seven. I think a heart attack, but I'm not supposed to talk about it." She clears her throat and sets her fork down, and I know I'm finally on to something.
No one has said thing one about the girls' father, if it was Mr. Koval, or if he adopted them, and what happened to him. It might be a good place to start.
Roman: 7:45 PM: Find out who Vera married before Radin.
This message is sent discreetly as Sara clears the first course and brings out lamb and potatoes for our main course.
She offers a confused expression as she removes my plate, and I give her a stern look that tells her not to ask why I'm not eating.
Then I serve Sofi, and she accepts the plate and leans over it, breathing in.
"This smells incredible," she says. "Sara, this is incredible."
Sara nods from the doorway and disappears into the kitchen, and I notice Sorin is gone now too. And Mila looks like she's ready to fall asleep.
"Do you cook?" Sofi asks me, sawing into the lamb with her knife.
But I'm busy checking for a response from my brother.
It's killing me not knowing more about this family.
Stringing them along in hopes they believe my line about marrying one of these women will quickly become too much to deal with.
I already know my choice and I should be focusing on making Mila mine, not wining and dining her stepsisters.