Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Do you want soup?” he asked me.
Since the last time I was there I got stuck eating borscht, I said no as strongly as I could without offending him. I had barely choked it down.
“No soup,” he told the waitress.
Thank God.
He went back to talking with the others and sitting there, drinking, while everyone smoked around me. I started to get really sleepy. When I put my head on the table, no one said a word.
The conversation changed. I heard the English give way to Russian, and after a while, someone’s voice was in my ear.
“Are you going to pass out?”
“Hopefully not,” I answered Iosif Bazin, one of the guys who worked with Dimah on the logistics end.
“You have so much trust in him, in Dimah. Why?”
“Because he’s trustworthy,” I answered softly. “We’re partners.”
“You are strange man not to listen to others, only yourself.”
I had no idea why that was odd. “He’s a good man.”
“You are what keeps him so.” He bumped my shoulder gently as the table dissolved into laughter that was cut short by a sharp command.
“Stoy.”
When I sat up, I found Dimah hovering over me, staring down at Iosif, who had taken his spot. He must have gone to wash his hands before dinner because his coat, suit jacket, and tie were off and his sleeves rolled up.
Iosif said something under his breath in Russian without meeting Dimah’s eyes and then moved quickly away and toward the bar.
It was weird. You could feel the tension in the room.
“The bathroom is yours, dorogoi,” Dimah whispered.
I was being excused, so I didn’t argue, just got up, a little unsteadily, and walked to the bathroom. It was nicer than I expected, so I washed up, ran cold water on my face, then trudged back to the table. I noted that Iosif was gone, and I would have inquired about it, but that was another Dimah thing. When he excused people, he didn’t like me asking why. If we were together or married, I would have pressed him to be different, to explain things and tell me why. And we were friends, yes, but those men worked for him, not for me, so the relationships were different. It wasn’t my place to get in the middle.
“Ne volnuysya,” Dimah was saying as I flopped back down beside him. I knew that was some derivative of don’t worry about it.
The two new guys who’d been in the car with us, whom I now remembered having seen around the office but never met, were both sitting across from me, and one of them addressed me. “You look tired.”
I nodded.
“I am Vassi Leshev,” he said, then tipped his head at the man beside him. “And this is Danya Kudrin.”
I offered Vassi my hand.
His eyes flicked to Dimah, who gave him the slightest nod. Vassi took my hand in his, covering it with his other in the two-handed shake I always found so warm and genuine. Danya did the same, his gaze locked on mine as he did.
“Pleasure to meet you both,” I said, smiling.
“And you,” Vassi returned hoarsely. “It is not everyone Dimah lets meet his partner.”
He was right, but I had no idea why Dimah was always so protective.
“Tracy.”
I gave Dimah my attention.
“You know I would have never left you alone in office if I thought, even one moment, that it was not safe.”
“No, I know,” I replied, bumping him with my shoulder.
He grunted. “Eat now.”
I was about to point out that there wasn’t any food on the table when everything arrived, hot and steaming and smelling amazing.
“I think he is drooling,” another man said, teasing me, and Dimah chuckled.
“Here, you will like this.”
And I did. The dish was called pelmeni. It was like ravioli filled with minced pork, and I could eat a million of them if no one stopped me. There were also crepes, but not like the French ones most people knew, more like super-thin pancakes, and these were delivered to the table with bowls so you could fill them with things like caviar, sour cream, mushrooms, and smoked salmon. Dimah liked his with mascarpone and apricot jam, or condensed milk and blueberries. He had a big sweet tooth. I much preferred the beef and chicken kebabs and ate far too many every time. His uncle, Leonid, liked that about me and always came out of the kitchen to give me a hug and kiss.
After we ate, there was more vodka, but I got to take a pass after two more glasses and had hot tea instead. Sated and exhausted, I was afraid I was going to fall into a coma if I didn’t get home.
“Get up,” Dimah said, and I followed his direction.
I shook hands with all the men I had sat with, and then walked with Dimah, Pavel, Vassi, and Danya back to the Hummer. Dimah never traveled alone. Even when others didn’t accompany him in some place, that didn’t mean they weren’t waiting in the car.