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“No, thank you,” Ollie says, his hands pulling away from mine as he straightens.
“Enjoy, sugar,” she says with a wink to him.
“I will,” I say sharply. She turns away in a huff.
“Behave yourself, Renata,” he says in that chiding way that makes my nipples furl.
“She’s flirting with you.”
He only shakes his head. “Eat, baby.” He lifts his burger and takes a huge bite.
I dig into mine with gusto until I’ve left just enough room for pie. He eats all of his, then pulls my plate over to his side when I’m finished and eats every last crumb.
She brings over a plate of warmed apple pie topped with a generous dollop of vanilla ice cream and two spoons. I take a big bite. It’s spicy and sweet, the ice cream rich and creamy. “Mmm.”
He leaves the last bite for me. “Ladies first.” I smile and scoop it up.
“Thank you.” I’m quiet for a moment. “Ollie, is there ever any going back?”
“Going back to what,” he asks, playing with the salt and pepper shakers in front of us as if they’re chess pieces.
“Back to life before… all of this. Back to normalcy.”
He casually shrugs a shoulder. “There has never been normalcy for me. My mother wasn’t always a single mom. Eventually, she became a drug addict who slept with rich men to pay our rent. She overdosed and froze to death on the streets of Moscow when I was still young. That’s when the Romanovs found me.”
My heart aches. “I didn’t know that.”
He shrugs. “It’s irrelevant.”
It isn’t though. But I don’t say that out loud.
“My father scrapped together a family that needed him. It’s one of the best ways to ensure loyalty, isn’t it? Take ten dogs that are starving to death and feed them. Take ten that have regular meals and a roof over their heads. Which will be the most loyal?”
“Is loyal the right word?” I ask thoughtfully, sipping my Diet Coke. The ice clinks against the glass as it hits my lips. Wordlessly, he gestures for a refill. “Desperate, maybe. Grateful, yes. But loyalty isn’t born of having a need met—it’s born out of a sense of trust, of knowing that someone will be there for you, no matter what. True loyalty comes from a bond, not from filling an empty stomach.”
He pauses, his expression unreadable, and traces a pattern in the condensation on his glass. I watch the blunt tip of his finger. Why does everything he does feel so utterly, irascibly masculine?
“Maybe you’re right,” he finally says, his tone softening. “But in a world like ours, desperation and fear are all you need to keep people in line.”
I nod slowly, knowing he’s right but wishing it weren’t so dire, so bleak.
“Is that really how you feel about loyalty, Renata?”
I hold his gaze and nod.
“That true loyalty comes from a bond? From a sense of trust?”
“I do.”
His green eyes hold mine for a beat too long, making me squirm under the heat of his gaze. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says softly as the waitress presses a green-and-white bill onto the table.
Ollie stands, tosses five $100 bills on the table, and reaches for my hand. It’s warm and firm around mine, and I take a sense of comfort in holding it.
I stare. “That’s a lot of money,” I whisper.
“Good,” he whispers back. “Maybe she’ll buy a dildo with a Russian accent.”
I squeal and clap my hand over my mouth. “Clearly, you and I do not shop in the same stores.”
