by Zoe Blake
Joseph returned carrying a wooden box and with two servers in tow. One server carried a champagne bucket on a pedestal. Placing it next to the table, he settled the bottle nestled within the ice more firmly before retreating. The second server placed crystal flutes in front of us.
Standing before Dimitri, Joseph leaned over to present the box before dramatically opening the lid.
I gasped.
Nestled on a bed of maroon velvet was a brightly polished saber about a foot and half long.
Dimitri rose and unbuttoned his double-breasted suit coat before shrugging out of it.
With wide eyes, I scanned the rest of the dining room, expecting to see people diving under their tables as the women screamed. Everyone was acting perfectly normal, as if the man I was dating hadn’t just been presented with a freaking sword.
My fingernails dug into the supple leather arms of my chair as my brow wrinkled. “What is happening?”
Dimitri flipped the white cuff of his shirt up, exposing his powerful forearm. I noticed the insanely expensive-looking watch on his wrist. There was something so freaking sexy about a man who wore a watch.
He finished rolling up both sleeves and picked up the saber, testing its weight. Turning to the rest of the dining room, he held it aloft.
Everyone cheered.
What the hell was happening?
Joseph had removed the foil and the wire cage from around the top of the champagne bottle and was drying it with a black linen napkin. He presented the bottle to Dimitri, who easily clasped the bottom in one palm, holding it at a slight angle.
“The seam is on top, sir.”
Dimitri nodded solemnly.
A tense hush fell over the other patrons.
Daring a quick glance to my right, I realized the hectic bustle in the kitchen had stopped.
All eyes were on Dimitri.
He placed the blade of the saber against the champagne bottle, with the sharp edge facing him.
We all held our collective breaths.
He scraped the blade slowly along the bottle till the blunt edge stopped just shy of the glass lip.
Then he pulled the blade back toward him.
Dimitri turned and gave me a confident wink.
Next, his arm moved so swiftly it was nothing more than a flash of bright silver. The saber blade had slid along the champagne bottle to smoothly lop off the top glass portion, taking the cork with it.
There was a loud celebratory pop, then an arc of white foam burst from the bottle.
The entire room erupted in a shared cheer as everyone clapped.
Joseph sprang forward. Seizing our glasses from the table, he placed the flutes under the stream of sparkling champagne.
An older woman approached our table and handed me the champagne cork with the smooth green bottle glass still secured around the base. “You’re a lucky girl,” she quipped before returning to her own table.
Dimitri sat down and placed his napkin on his lap before reaching for his flute of champagne as casual as you please, as if he hadn’t just done the coolest fucking thing I had ever seen in my life.
“What… I… I don’t even know… wow!” I stammered as I took a big gulp of champagne to hide my nervousness. Immediately regretting it as the bubbles tickled my nose and the back of my throat.
“It’s called sabrage. The Hussar cavalrymen would use their sabers to lop off the top of a champagne bottle to drink it while they were still on horseback,” he offered as he nodded to the server who was moving items around on our table to make a space in the center.
“It’s unbelievably impressive.”
Dimitri’s voice was a deep timbre. “I’m glad you like my swordsmanship.”
My cheeks flamed, catching the double entendre. Placing my hands in my lap, I twined my fingers as I focused on breathing slowly in and out to stop the room from spinning.
Yes, I was definitely inside an Ian Fleming book. The problem was I wasn’t sure if I was having dinner with James Bond… or an infamous Russian villain.
Two servers returned to the table with a tray. On it was a silver dish with two lion’s-head handles on either side brimming with ice. In the center of it sat a delicate glass pot with a generous portion of caviar, deep brown with a slight golden tint. Surrounding it were additional tiny bowls with diced red onion, scallions, hard-boiled egg, and crème fraiche. Next they placed a platter of warm blinis and potato chips on the table before silently leaving.
Reaching for my champagne flute, I took a sip to hide my nervousness. I’d never had caviar before. I’ve been curious, of course, but now I was afraid I would embarrass myself in front of Dimitri. What if I didn’t like it? What if it tasted fishy? What if I couldn’t swallow it?
Joseph approached our table. “This is our very best caviar, Ossetra. It will have a buttery, almost earthy flavor to it with a nice pop.” He emphasized the word pop with a swish of his hand. “Before I leave you to enjoy, have you decided what you would like for dinner?”
I hadn’t even looked at the menu. Picking up the leather-backed board with the heavy cream paper, I scanned the options. I could see in the center the IDGAF option, which was basically a chef’s choice menu. That at least would explain the hats. Each dish seemed richer and more decadent than the last. I had absolutely no idea what to order.
Dimitri’s firm hand reached over and pulled the menu from my grasp. He gave me another wink before turning back to the maître d’. “The lady will have the surf and turf. Ask the chef to make the filet a little over medium with a warm pink center. I’ll have the porterhouse blood rare. Bring whatever sides you think will complement our choices and Joseph, please bring me a Stoli Elit neat.”
“Excellent, Mr. Kosgov. Enjoy your caviar. I’ll be back with your drink.”
He had ordered me the lobster.
The lobster.
I knew what that meant.
Dimitri reached for a warm blini and placed a dab of crème fraiche on it, then topped it with caviar before putting it on the plate before me.
“I know what you’re thinking. If you eat the lobster, I’ll expect you to sleep with me.”
“I… well…” I couldn’t form a witty retort. I was too stunned that he had read my mind.
Brushing my hair back over my shoulder, he leaned in to whisper in my ear, “The answer is you’re damn right I will.” He then nipped at my earlobe before treating me to a deep-throated chuckle. “Relax, моя крошка. It’s just dinner.”
Forcing the tension from my face, I took a deep breath and concentrated on the first course. Using my thumb and forefinger, I gingerly picked up the blini and caviar.
“Have you had caviar before?”
I shook my head.
“Just take a small bite. The trick is to roll it around on your tongue to catch the first bit of flavor before you press the small beads against the roof of your mouth. They will pop open, giving you a second salty burst of flavor which will enhance the first.”
While he talked, he prepared his own bit of caviar. “We’ll try it together,” he offered, holding up his bite.
I leaned over, not wanting to be overheard. “What if I don’t like it?”
“Then just spit it out in your napkin.”
My brow creased as my eyes narrowed. That couldn’t be the correct response.
“Trust me, моя крошка. I wouldn’t lie to you. The proper way would be to spit it out discreetly into your napkin.”
Grasping my champagne flute in my left hand just in case I needed to wash the flavor out of my mouth, I raised the bite to my lips. Taking a deep breath, I sank my teeth into only half of the silver-dollar-sized blini. My eyebrows shot up. It was good. Superb. With the bread, crème fraiche, and earthiness of the caviar, the entire bite was buttery and creamy. Following Dimitri’s instructions, I pressed the small beads to the roof of my mouth and was rewarded with a burst of sea salt that didn’t taste fishy at all.
It was then I noticed Dimitri hadn�
��t eaten his. At my questioning look, he said, “It is fascinating watching the play of emotions cross your face. You have such an unvarnished, pure reaction to things. It makes me feel as if I am experiencing the same things anew.”
I wiped my mouth with my napkin and took a sip of champagne before responding. “Wow. I think that is the nicest compliment anyone has ever paid me.”
There was a charge of energy between us in that moment. The deep connection you felt with another person, even though you barely knew them. A primal chemistry.
He reached out to brush his knuckles over my cheek, before turning his attention back to the caviar tray to fix me another portion.
Wanting to fill the silence, I scrambled for something normal and date-like to ask him. “So, what do you do for a living?”
He shifted in his seat. Rolling back his shoulders, he sat up straighter. A muscle ticked over his cheekbone. “Never ask me anything about my business affairs,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“But…”
His hand reached out to cover my own. “I mean it, Emma. Never. Knowledge about what I do is off limits to you, do you understand me?”
I stared at his hand, at the pale scars and faded tattoos. Not understanding where I got the courage, I boldly said, “I was reading a book about the symbolism of Russian tattoos.”
Alarm bells were going off in my head, and I desperately grasped at the idea that some red flags were false. That it wasn’t all bad. I needed him to tell me, to give me some hope.
He squeezed my fingers painfully tight. Tears sprang to my eyes.
“The symbolism applies, and that’s all I’ll say on the matter.”
Gambler.
Fighter.
Murderer.
How was I supposed to reconcile that image with the man sitting next to me? The man who’d rejected me for trying to be something I wasn’t. The man who knew about champagne, caviar, and sabrage? The man who tipped generously and remembered everyone’s names. There was also the man who had taken my virginity without remorse. Who had ruthlessly tracked me down, demanding I see him again. Who didn’t take no for an answer.
Lowering my eyes, I nodded. With a shaking hand, I reached for my champagne flute. I brought it to my lips before I realized it was empty.
Dimitri reached for the bottle and poured me another glass. It looked like a perfectly normal romantic gesture, except if you looked closely it wasn’t normal. The champagne bottle was fractured at the top. Its opening was a dangerous shard of glass because he had violently removed the lip with a sword.
My stomach clenched as I realized I was in way over my head.
“How about we talk about you instead? I know you are studying to become a librarian. What of your parents?”
Taking a sip of champagne to wet my dry throat, I croaked out, “Divorced. They don’t talk to one another and neither really talks to me.”
Dimitri’s brow creased. “That isn’t right. You’re their daughter.”
I shrugged. “I’m used to it. What about your parents?”
His lips thinned as his fingers tensed around my own.
I pulled my hand out from under his and put it in my lap. “Sorry. Never mind. I didn’t mean to ask.”
So everything about him was off limits. Message received.
We fell into an uncomfortable silence as the servers returned to remove the first course. One remained behind to scrape a silver table crumber along the linen before informing us our next course would be up shortly.
Dimitri nodded before taking a long sip from the crystal tumbler of vodka they had brought.
I did the same with my champagne as I searched for something safe to talk about. I needed to be careful. The dizzying effects of the alcohol were taking hold.
“I talked to the financial aid office today. They gave me a list of grants which are still open. I will start filling out the paperwork this week. One would require me to serve as the local school librarian for a small town in Kentucky for six months, but I don’t think it would be too bad,” I rambled.
“Why are you talking to them about money?”
Failing to hear the warning tightness in his voice, I carried on. “Because I need to pay my tuition for this semester. I can’t take out any more loans and my parents have no intention of helping me.”
Dimitri twisted the base of his vodka glass between his finger and thumb. When he finally spoke, his words were low and measured. “I thought you understood that I didn’t want you begging men for money?”
I swallowed, belatedly realizing I had tripped into dangerous territory. The champagne and caviar turned sour in my stomach. Unable to meet his intense glare, I concentrated on rearranging the silverware in front of me. “You said I shouldn’t still try to reach out to Mr. Fitzgerald’s son, which I haven’t.”
Dimitri leaned in, grasping my chin. “Emma, you defied me. I made myself clear on this subject. I would handle your tuition.”
A tear slipped down my cheek. I didn’t know what he wanted me to say.
“I didn’t think you were serious. We have only just met. We’re practically strangers!”
His lower jaw shifted as if he were grinding my words in between his sharp teeth. “I’ve had my cock buried deep inside your sweet pussy and you’re calling me a stranger?”
My cheeks flamed. I wrenched my head aside. He only moved his hand to wrap around my neck, pulling me closer, forcing me to lean in over the table. His face only inches away.
The champagne buzz made me bold.
Dangerously so.
“We are strangers regardless! I’m not allowed to know what you do, who your parents are, nothing about you! No wonder you prefer to sleep with escorts; I bet they train them to keep their ears shut and mouths open!”
My jaw dropped as I slapped a hand over my mouth in a fruitless effort to trap the words that had already escaped. I couldn’t believe I had said that!
“Dimitri! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that,” I blurted out.
He released his hold on my neck. I fell back against the chair.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his money clip. He withdrew a small fortune in bills and dropped them on the table.
“We’re leaving. Now,” he ground out.
My face crumpled. I lowered my head, allowing my hair to fan out on either side to hide my tears.
Dimitri rose and whipped his suit jacket off the back of the chair. Without even bothering to put it on, he seized my hand and dragged me through the dining room.
Joseph noticed and opened his mouth to ask what was going on. A glare from Dimitri silenced him. He nodded and called out, “Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Kosgov,” as if nothing were amiss.
The silence in the car was oppressive. I had wanted to just say I’d take the train home, but then I remembered I had no money or cell phone on me. My throat felt sore as I tried to hold back the tears. As I watched the lights of the city flash by, I realized he had missed the turn for Lake Shore Drive.
“You missed the turn,” I whispered, not wanting to anger him further.
His knuckles turned white as he gripped the leather steering wheel harder. “No, I didn’t.”
Hating to have to push the issue, desperately just wishing for this torture to be over, I forced myself to respond, “Lake Shore Drive is the fastest way to my home.”
“I’m not taking you home.”
Chapter 13
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain. - William Shakespeare, Hamlet
Dimitri
I slammed my car door shut and stormed to the passenger side.
I flipped the handle up. It was locked.
Her big brown eyes stared up at me through the tinted glass.
Raising the key fob, I unlocked the door and opened it before the little minx could lock it again.
“Get out.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Take me home.”
I resisted the urge to say she was home.
<
br /> One fight at a time.
Placing my hands on either side of the open door, I leaned down. “моя крошка, I’m not a patient man. Now. Get. Out.”
She pushed out her full bottom lip. “I don’t understand why you won’t take me home. You obviously don’t like me. Why am I even here?”
I looked at the sky, praying to God for the patience He and I both knew I’d never possessed.
“What makes you think I don’t like you?”
“You’re always scowling whenever you’re around me. I can’t seem to do anything right.”
Enough of this.
Reaching into the car’s interior, I unlocked her seat belt and snagged her by the forearm, dragging her out. “Oh, trust me, baby girl. There is definitely one thing you do right.”
Opening the side door that led into my entryway, I pulled her over the threshold and quickly entered the eight-digit code to disable the alarm system. I locked the same door before re-arming the system. This time she wouldn’t be able to sneak out without me knowing the moment she tried to open a door.
“Take me home!” she demanded a second time.
“No.”
She stamped her foot. “You can’t just keep me here against my will!”
I smirked. “Why not? It worked the first time.”
Her beautiful lips opened in shock as the most adorable pink blush crept over her cheeks.
“I’ll scream!”
I shrugged. “Doubt the neighbors would hear.”
“I’ll call the police.”
“You don’t have your cell and there aren’t any landlines in the house.”
She spun on her heel before diving for the front door.
“Locked.”
She held out her hand, palm up. “Key.”
“No.” I walked past her as I loosened my tie. “Have you seen the library yet?”
Crossing the marble hallway, I entered the darkened room on the right. Easily maneuvering my way around the whiskey-colored leather armchairs, I knelt to flip the lever on the gas fireplace. There was a rush of air, then the fake logs burst into flame, filling the space with warmth and a rosy glow. Rising, I headed to the sidebar as I saw her enter through the corner of my eye. I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist the lure of a private library.
