Page 20 of Bratva Sacrifice

And I think even he had to concede that it was a wise choice, considering I tottered on them like a newborn baby fawn for the few minutes I had them on. He muffled a laugh behind his hand as I tried to walk in them, and then asked the saleswoman to bring something I wouldn’t break my neck in instead.

So I don’t feel guilty. But I do feel…exposed. I’m showing a lot more skin than I’m used to. It doesn’t feel uncomfortable, exactly—just unfamiliar. I’m aware, now, that I’m being observed in sneaky glances by a few other patrons of the restaurant we’re in. It doesn’t last long, however, because Alexei inevitably catches every one of them and stares back.

Hard.

If Papa could see me, he’d snap at me to cover up. But I drink down that stray thought with another sip of the sweet, sparkling wine that Alexei keeps filling my glass with. Alexei doesn’t drink much of it, but then I already know he doesn’t like things that are too sweet, and the wine is definitely too sweet for him. I don’t know how much it costs, but it tastes expensive.

I don’t know how much anything costs, actually, because it’s one of those places where the menus don’t have prices. Or at least, mine didn’t. So I’ve decided I’m just not going to worry about it. Dinner—however much it’s going to cost—can be Alexei’s problem.

Especially since he ordered for me. A lobster dish, which I know has to be expensive. He chooses a steak for himself, and by the time our food arrives, I’m pleasantly relaxed from the wine.

“I could have been allergic to shellfish,” I tell him playfully as I pick up my fork.

His brows lift. “Are you?”

“No, but I could have been. And you didn’t even ask what I wanted.”

He sniffs dismissively as he picks up his silverware. “Is lobster,” he says. “Everyone likes lobster. And if left to your own choice, Katya, you would have chosen pasta.”

He’s right. He reads me like a book. Probably the pasta was the cheapest thing on the menu, and probably I would have picked it.

But the lobster just might be the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. It comes served in the lobster shell, covered with a golden-brown crust of some sort that’s still bubbling, fresh from the oven. Large chunks of lobster are buried beneath, covered in a smooth cheesy sauce that is rich and flavorful, liberally seasoned with herbs and the tart acidity of lemon. I have to swallow back a moan at the first bite; I have no idea how I’m going to eat this without embarrassing myself.

Alexei makes a low sound in his throat, and the twitch of his lips is satisfied. “Is good?”

“So good.” The wine makes me brave, bold. I scoop up a hearty bite and stretch it across the table. “Here; try.”

For a moment he pauses, confused—as if I’ve surprised him with the offer. And then he sets down his silverware and wraps one hand around my wrist to steady it.

I almost shiver at the touch of his fingers. I can feel goosebumps rising on my skin.

Slowly, carefully, he takes the bite off of my fork. “Good?” I ask, and my voice is oddly breathy.

“Good,” he says gruffly. And he refills my wine again.

∞∞∞

By the time we leave the restaurant, I’m bubbly-tipsy. I couldn’t finish even the lobster—and I can’t take it home with me, besides, since my motel doesn’t have even a mini-fridge or a microwave—but Alexei insisted on dessert anyway.

For me. Mostly he just watched me eat the scant few bites of crème brûlée I could manage after dinner, but I did tempt him with another bite taken directly off my spoon.

I want him to ask me out again. I’ve never felt so unrestrained, so uninhibited. So free.

My phone trills out a tune in my purse just as we reach his car, and my heart sinks to the soles of my shoes.

So much for free. Cinderella has to make her way home from the ball. I fumble for my purse, my fingers clumsy as I yank my phone out of it and silence the alarm.

Alexei pauses there on the sidewalk with me. “You don’t have to answer? Darren will not worry?”

I wince. I texted Darren from the restaurant when we arrived to let him know the name and the address…just to be cautious. I tried to do it subtly, but I don’t think there’s much that escapes Alexei’s notice. Still, he didn’t seem offended by the tacit insinuation that I might require rescue. “It’s not Darren,” I say as I shove my phone back in my purse. “It’s my alarm. I take the train, you know, and it stops running in thirty minutes. The alarm is just to remind me.” In case I’m ever out late enough to need the reminder, which until now, I haven’t been.

Alexei huffs. “That is all? Katya, I will drive you home.”

“No!” My eyes close was a wave of embarrassment sweeps over me. I don’t want him to see my motel room, to see where I’m living at the moment. Maybe, in a month or two, I’ll have saved up enough money to afford a small apartment of my own.

Maybe I can even find someone willing to rent to someone who can’t use her legal name to do it.

But until then… “I’d really, really rather take the train,” I say. “It’s not you. It’s just—I can’t right now.”