“I listen, that’s why. You told Meghan the other day you’d kill for a glass of a good red after work, and now I’m making it happen.”
Trista narrows her eyes on me, her smile shifting into a smirk. “I don’t know whether you’re being a gentleman or a bit arrogant.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I give her an honest answer. “A bit of both.”
Her smile grows wider and it’s not long before there’s a twinkle of mischief in her eye. I think she’s open to this, and I hope I’m right. Now I’m sitting across the table from her. I’m heavily tempted to see where this night might end up, and I pray it leads to my face between those thighs of hers.
I can tell she’s trying to refrain from smiling, but as much as she tries, it only grows wider until she manages to hold it back by smirking as she continues looking at the menu. I sit back and watch her do this for a few minutes, noticing she keeps darting her eyes between a few things. “Having a hard time deciding?”
She peers up at me through her thick lashes. “Yeah, it looks like everything they have here is delicious. Have you ever eaten here before?”
“Once, and their food is delicious. Anything you try, I will guarantee you’ll like it.”
The waiter comes back through the curtain. “Are you both ready to order this evening?” he asks as he places Trista’s drinks down in front of her.
I glance at Trista, and she appears to be a bit at a loss, trying to decide what she wants. “What is it that you’re looking at?” I ask her, and she leans over the table, giving me an ample view of her breasts. I try not to look for too long, but I am a man, and well, fuck. Her rack isn’t overly robust, but it’s enough to grab a mouth or handful of.
“These, I don’t know what they are . . . but what do you think I’d like?” She points to three items on the menu, and I look at the waiter.
“We’re going to split a few meals tonight. Pirozhki, shashlik, and stroganoff.” The waiter nods at my words and quickly takes his leave.
Trista, on the other hand, sits up a bit straighter and cocks a brow. “I didn’t realize you were ordering the entire menu.”
“I didn’t, but I can. Is that what you’d like?” She’s being a bit sassy, and I have no problem meeting her attitude with my own. Truth be told, I didn’t realize she had a steel back like this. It’s good, something I’ve always looked for in a woman. My entire life, I’ve imagined dating a Russian or Ukrainian woman, but an American sits across from me just as strong. How peculiar.
“I don’t know how I didn’t see this before,” Trista murmurs lowly.
“Didn’t see what?” I counter, waiting for her reply.
It’s a few moments before she strums up the courage to state her thoughts. “How . . . cocky you can be. I think I may have misjudged you, Michail.” Somehow, I believe she isn’t saying this in a positive light.
Clearing my throat, I tell her what I tell every person who ever thinks they know who I am. “There’s much more about me than meets the eye, mysh’. I only allow people to see what I want them to see.”
Trista immediately furrows her brows and asks me a question I never expect to come from her lips. “What don’t you want them to see, Michail?”
Without hesitation, I answer her. “My darkness.”
“Everyone has darkness, and it’s not something to be ashamed of,” Trista tells me as if she’s had firsthand experience. When those people came into the parlor earlier, I believed something else might’ve been going on, and while I still feel this way . . . I have the strong urge to uncover whatever she’s hiding.
“So, tell me about yours then,” I prompt her, hoping she’ll take my bait.
“I’d rather not.” Trista’s quick to shut down.
“Alright, then I will share mine with you. It started when my mother died and I was forced to care for my younger sister. We come from a small village and I saw too many . . . bad . . . things happen there. I won’t get into the details, but my mother’s death, it opened my eyes to how the world really is.” Trista stares into my eyes as if they’re locked on one another. Her eyes grow watery and I decide to reach for her hand across the table. Only, the moment my fingers touch her skin, she’s yanking her hand away.
I don’t know how I’ve misunderstood her body language, though I must’ve. If I didn’t, she wouldn’t have ever yanked her hand away from mine. While this night started out well, it seems to be ending in a less than pleasing way.
Chapter Eight
Trista
Over the past few days, I’ve thought almost non-stop about my date with Michail. It was wonderful, and I enjoyed myself very much. But I fucked up when I pulled my hand away from his. I saw the look on his face, the disappointment, the confusion. He thought we were headed one way and I went and screwed it up.
I flinched and yanked my hand away from his touch when Jacob’s words popped into my head. To be honest, I’ve been so upset with everything going on. The nightmares have been far too much for me to handle, even with Ruslan and Sascha close by.
They’ve been worried since that day and had me open up about what happened. Ruslan ended up demanding we invite Ally and everyone over to my place so we could talk that night when I get off work.
“Now, are you going to tell me what happened?” Ally asks, taking a seat at the large kitchen table I guided them all to a few moments ago. Red and K-9 decided to remain standing while they listen
