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“We are having a dinner party,” I say, watching her reaction carefully.
Her soft features twist in confusion. Do I see some anxiety creep in there too?
I guess it’s been a long time since she’s interacted with anyone outside of Maeve and me.
“Who’s coming?”
“No one. It will just be the two of us.”
Sophia’s confusion remains, but the anxiety disappears.
On the plane ride back to New York, I had this dinner idea, and I immediately went about setting it up, calling my contacts in the service industry to prepare a nice dinner here at the brownstone.
Of course, to avoid suspicion, I told them it was for a dinner party of a dozen people. If anyone was listening in, they would think I was just trying to wine and dine some politicians, and not treating my captured princess to a proper dinner date.
… Anything to see her smile, just like she did when she saw Mom’s book…
But if that was the only reason I was doing this, then I wouldn’t be a monster. Fuck. I can never be completely selfless. It’s just not in my nature.
No matter how much I want to see Sophia smile again, I also need to ask her about Castor.
It will make her uncomfortable—I’m sure of it. So, to ease her nerves, we’ll have a beautiful candlelight dinner.
Then, when we’re both comfortable, I’ll start asking my questions.
Later tonight, I’ll ask Castor the same questions.
If they don’t line up…
Fuck. I don’t want to even think about if they don’t line up. Despite every inch of the Barinov in me screaming not to trust Sophia, every other bit of me—including my fucking heart—is telling me she’s on my side.
But someone can be on your side and still lie…
“Why?” Sophia suddenly asks.
“Why what?”
“Why are you treating me to this nice dinner?”
There’s a playfulness in her question that says she’s not completely serious, but I can tell that part of her is at least suspicious.
I was just gone for almost two days straight without explanation. Where was I? Killing Greeks? Fucking whores?
She’ll want to know. Maybe I’ll tell her. But only if I hear what I want to hear first.
“Because I wanted to do something nice for you?”
“Really?”
“Really. God, I thought giving you that book would be enough to show that I’m not some monster.”
“I don’t think you’re a monster…” Sophia says, before re-thinking. “At least, not too much of a monster.”
“Would you like me as much if I wasn’t a monster at all?”
“Who says I like you?”
Clasping my hands together, I tent my brows and do my best Sophia impression. “… Promise me that you’ll come back,” I tease.
