Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
LARA
I sit across from him, feeling a mix of hurt and defiance. I thought I looked fine—good, even. It’s not that I didn’t want to wear a dress, but the way Greta instructed me to dress appropriately irritated me. So, I chose this—jeans, a tucked-in black T-shirt and heels. I even tried a halter neck top before I left, but I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard to be sexy. Now, he’s sitting there, looking all annoyed, as if what I’m wearing is a personal insult.
And then he ordered for me, which is a big no-no for me. It actually made me want to get up and leave. But the truth is, I’m hungry and I was planning on the steak anyway as I’d never had black Argentinian label steak before. Plus, the way that French waiter described the grilled peaches sounds too good to pass up.
I tell myself it’s not all bad, seeing him irritated like this. About time he realizes he can’t control everything about me. Also, he’s starting to grow on me unexpectedly and unnaturally fast, and it’s good to remind myself we are totally and absolutely incompatible outside the sack. We are almost like two different species. We can come together to mate, but that’s it. After that, we must go back to being strangers.
We settle into a tense silence that neither of us wants to break. When the food arrives, I pick up my fork and concentrate on my peaches. A fine choice as it happens. I try to ignore how easy it is for him to behave as if I’m not even there. He doesn’t make any effort to fill the silence, and I’m tempted to just let it ride. I see the papers stacked neatly on the table, and I realize he’s been working. I miss working. I miss feeling useful, like I have a purpose. It reminds me of what I wanted to ask earlier.
“I’ve been thinking,” I start.
He glances up at me, his eyes expectant.
“Would it be possible for me to work while I’m under contract? I mean, go back to my job during the day while you’re at work.”
At first, he doesn’t respond, just keeps chewing as he stares at me, as if he’s deciding on an answer. “I would have been friendly enough to consider it,” he says eventually, voice cool. “But the simple fact is I’m paying you to be idle while I’m away and busy while I’m around.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t hide my disappointment. “I found a book in the library about poisons,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I could start learning how to make them.”
He stops mid-chew, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t have a library.”
I give him a look. “You don’t say.”
He bursts out laughing. A deep laugh that’s so surprising and so contagious an unintended laugh slips out of me too. Instantly, I lower my head to hide it, feeling a flicker of warmth in my chest.
He leans back. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Why do we have to argue over a dress?” I mutter, feeling defensive. “I’ll dress up tomorrow. That’s an actual event.”
He studies me for a moment before nodding slowly. “Okay, I’ll look forward to it.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why does it even matter? You’ve seen me naked already. It’s not like a dress is going to change anything.”
“What kind of guys have you been dating?”
“We’re not dating?” I remind tartly.
“No?”
My heart skips several beats. I hate how he does that. How he can turn everything around with just one look, one word. I focus on my plate, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through me. I decide to change the subject, to steer us back to something safe.
“In case you’re worried, I won’t actually make poisons, but please don’t order for me again.”
He takes a sip of his wine. “I never order my date, but something about you brings out the worst in me.”
“Is that you saying sorry?”
“Yeah, that’s me saying sorry.”
“Okay. I’m sorry too that I pressed all your buttons and made you go haywire.”
He smiles.
“By the way, I spent some time with Muriel in the conservatory today. She agreed to teach me to garden. Maybe gardening will keep me busy.”
He stares at me curiously. “You liked her.”
“Yes, very much.”
He nods and smiles. “I hope you’re not planning to steal her away from me.”
“I got the impression I couldn’t even if I wanted to. She’s totally devoted to you.”
He looks surprised. “Good. I hope she never leaves me. I’ve had her as my housekeeper ever since I left Russia.”
I want to ask more about his life in Russia, about his family, but I hesitate. I shouldn’t want to know more about him. It’s not part of the deal. Instead, I let my eyes drift over him. He is wearing a brilliantly white shirt, a blue tie and a navy suit jacket. In this light, he looks good enough to eat. God, I hate how sexy he looks. I hate how, once again, I’m feeling the magnetic pull of him.
Black label steak arrives. It is the best steak I’ve ever eaten.
“Good choice,” I say.
We lapse into silence and I wonder what he’s thinking, but again, I resist the urge to ask personal questions. It’s safer to stick to neutral topics.
“So, what’s the gala about tomorrow?” I ask instead.
He wipes the corner of his mouth and sets down his fork. “It’s for my mother’s charity event—it’s an annual gala that brings together some of the most influential figures in the community. They focus on supporting cultural preservation and women’s initiatives. It helps build connections and raises significant funds for various charity organizations back in Russia.”
I nod. “I take it you’re not one for parties?”
He leans back in his chair, tilting his head as if considering my question. “What makes you say that?”
“Just a feeling. You seem like the type who’d rather be behind the scenes, pulling the strings and letting the puppets take all the glory.”
He raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes. “You think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”
I shrug, leaning forward slightly. “I don’t know… do I?”
He leans in, his expression softening. “Sometimes, you have to show up. Not because you want to. You go because your mother expects it.”
I laugh. A bit of skepticism creeps into my voice. “And maybe it’s just a game, showing off to people who know how powerful you are.”
His eyes flicker and I get the feeling he is disappointed in me. “Sometimes, playing the game is the only way to win.”
I sense that I have lost him. I had him and I lost him. Maybe he really is going just because his mother expects his presence, but I can’t stop myself from poking the bear. “Winning is everything to you, isn’t it?”
“Isn’t it for everyone?” he counters. “We all want to feel like we’ve accomplished something, that we’re moving forward. What about you? Why do you make your videos? You want to accomplish something with them, don’t you?”
I feel a slight prick of annoyance, but I meet his gaze. “Well, one of them got you to notice me, didn’t it?”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You certainly accomplished that.”
For some reason, his words don't feel as satisfying as they should. There’s a hollow note to them, like he’s pointing out something I didn’t want to admit. I look down at my glass, feeling a twinge of uncertainty. My videos never sold any houses, all it brought was a man who wanted to buy me for sex.
He must notice my unhappy expression because he brings his glass to his lips, taking a slow sip before tilting his head. “Let me guess, now you hate me.”
I shrug, feeling a mix of exasperation and amusement. “You know exactly how to get under my skin.”
“Part of my charm,” he says, his eyes twinkling.
“Charm, huh?” I challenge, crossing my arms. “More like a talent for infuriating people.”
He lifts his glass. “I could say the same about you.”
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh really? How exactly am I doing that?”
He pauses for a moment as if considering his next words. “Maybe you’re making me lose my sanity.”
The way he says it, quiet, almost vulnerable, makes my heart skip. “Well, maybe we’re even then.”