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Chapter 16
It was a strange scene, watching one of the butlers driving the Porsche through the front gates as Mila tried to act happy about it. At first, I wasn’t sure what was wrong. Why wasn't she excited about a car like that? But when Andrei started to talk about the safety measures, including tracking her movements with GPS in case of anemergency, I understood.
She was truly trapped in a golden cage.
The final straw was when the driver drove it into the garage, right next to her other three cars, all of them probably totaling over half a mil. Watching the look on her face was leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Even if Andrei meant well and loved her, his sister was close to suffocating, dying of loneliness under a load of cash that was being dumped on her. I watched as she caressed the bracelet I’d given her. She was moving her fingers over the surface of the inscription as if for reassurance. I felt a sudden pang. Would she still wear it after all this was over? Or would she tear it off her wrist and throw it into the bay in disgust? But then, it didn’t really matter at this point. I had to do what I had to do, and overall, I was starting to see that what I was doing would be best for everybody—especially her.
“Have you ever been to Monaco’s?” Andrei’s voice tore me out of my thoughts. We were sitting in the back of his limo. Mila was right next to me, Andrei across from us. I redirected my gaze from the skyline of Boston and onto Andrei’s face. He was a good-looking guy. I could admit that, even though I wasn’t into men.
“No, this is my first time.”
“I see,” Andrei responded, briefly glancing at Mila’s bracelet. I was ready for another condescending remark from him, but surprisingly enough, he seemed to have himself under control when his sister was around. “In that case, steer away from the pork. It’ll be yesterday’s meat. Their veal and salmon on the other hand will be fresh from today’s market.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
“And don’t let them pair your food with their Portuguese white wine. It’s awful, even if it is a five-hundred-dollar bottle. Take the German white. It’s double the price but worth it.”
I nodded again, unsure where this kindness was coming from. Was it all a pretense for Mila’s benefit?
“This dinner will be my treat, so you won’t have to worry about paying. It’s high-class if you know what I mean,” he added. I frowned and faked a smile, biting back a scathing response. I wasn’t about to ruin Mila’s birthday.
“Thank you. Very kind of you.”
Mila smiled at Andrei, fake, then turned to me. “Some people need these places to think they are important,” she said loud enough for Andrei to hear. I grinned right at him.
That’s my girl. She’s got my back!
Mila gave my hand a reassuring squeeze when we pulled up in front of Monaco’s. It was barely five thirty, but there was already a long line out front. We waited for the driver to open the door and stepped out. Andrei didn’t even look at all the people waiting. He walked straight to the front as two men dressed in tuxedos opened the door and let us in.
Inside, the restaurant looked expensively modern. The white art sculptures alone must have been worth a fortune.
“Mr. Kowitsch,” a short, overweight man said, rushing over. He looked at Andrei nervously. “What a delight that you honor us on your sister’s birthday. Please follow me. I have cleared the best table for you.”
Andrei nodded and followed the man to a table in a large corner of the room, right next to the large bay windows. The table was already set with silver knives and forks perfectly lined up with different wine and water glasses. Out the windows was a breathtaking view over the old harbor of Boston.
I pulled out Mila’s chair before the sweating host could do it, then sat down next to her. Andrei took the seat across from us.
“This place looks amazing,” I said, looking out the window.
“Only the best for my sister,” Andrei said as he took the wine menu handed to him by one of the waiters. He glanced at it briefly and handed it back to the waiter.
“None of that. Please bring us a bottle of the 2016 Hultensteiner.”
The waiter looked confused, but the short host instantly bowed a little.
“Of course.” Then he nodded at the waiter, who followed him as soon as he was done placing the menus in front of us.
I grabbed the white napkin and pulled it over my lap. Andrei and Mila did the same.
“So tell me,” Andrei said as we waited for the wine, “how did you get into your profession? Was it an unmanageable childhood thirst for saving kittens and bugs?”
“Andrei,” Mila scolded him, rolling her eyes. The waiter arrived and opened a bottle of white wine. He poured a little into Andrei’s glass and waited for him to taste it, but Andrei just waved him to fill it up all the way. With a look of worry on his face, the waiter filled all our glasses and rushed off.
I faked a laugh and reached for Mila’s hand under the table to calm her.
“Something like that. What about you?” I asked. “What was it exactly you do again?”
Andrei took a sip of his wine. “Investing. Stock market and such.”
