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Chapter 7
Cage is fuming.It’s in his eyes as he drills me with his gaze. It’s in the clench of his jaw, the tense set of his shoulders. It’s in the way he looms in my peripheral vision as I offer a lame smile to Mr. Vasiliev, whose eyes have begun to sparkle at the news of the most eligible bachelor in New York’s “girlfriend.”
Oh, boy, I’ve blown it, and I really didn’t mean to. I should’ve just told Mr. Vasiliev my name and that’s it, but my nerves took over and I became Motor Mouth.
“A girlfriend,” the delighted man says, squeezing my hand between both of his. “I have not seen news of this in the society pages, Cage. Why have there been no pictures of this lovely woman with you?”
“I’ve kept her under wraps,” Cage says.
His double entendre isn’t lost on me. It’s a reminder that I’m his gift, and I’ve stepped way out of my job description.
Why didn’t I just smile and shut up?
Mr. Vasiliev is still holding my hand, patting it. “You must tell me your secret, dear girl. After all, no woman has been able to pin down my friend here thus far.” His eyes light up even more. “We shall meet for dinner together before I leave town next week, yes?”
If Cage wasn’t furious before, he sure is now. But I wonder if I’m the only one who can see it since Mr. Vasiliev doesn’t seem to notice.
“Yes,” Cage says. “I’ll arrange a time and place with you, Igor.”
“Splendid. But now I see that my grandchildren are already out the door. I promised them a visit to the Central Park Carousel, and they mean to hold me to it.”
As Mr. Vasiliev gives another gentlemanly bow to me, I smile again, keeping my mouth closed so I don’t do any more damage. Meanwhile, I pray for a hole to open up in the black-and-white tiled floor and swallow me so I won’t have to deal with the hell that’s about to rain down.
After all the goodbyes are said and Mr. Vasiliev has left, I brace for Cage to lay into me. But he shocks me by staying silent, sliding our ice cream treats onto a table, and pulling out my chair.
I sit, gauging his mood as he takes a seat across from me. My gut tells me that I’m still in hot water.
“Eat,” he says.
He doesn’t bark out a command. It’s more like a firm suggestion, and that worries me. In fact, he’s so cool that it’s even worse than being yelled at.
My stomach is so curdled that I can’t eat a thing. I only use my long spoon to play with my sundae, and every time I look at Cage I try to let him know how sorry I am for my dumb mistake.
As everyone else in the shop laughs and has a grand old time under the sound of vintage music, his silence gnaws away at me. Then the dreaded moment finally arrives.
He leans forward only slightly, fixing his raging gaze on me. “You told Igor Vasiliev that we’re seeing each other.”
I only nod.
“Why?”
His tone rubs me the wrong way, instinctively getting my defenses up, just like yesterday when he was such a prick to me about my dead phone.
I calmly put down my spoon and fold my hands in my lap. Then I lean toward him so I can whisper back. “Would you have preferred that I said I was a paid escort?”
Oh, he doesn’t like that. If there’s such a thing as beyond-pissed, he’s it. But he’s still controlled, even now. The burning rage in his gaze is like a cold fire that seethes inside of him.
“Listen,” I say. “I was nervous and put on the spot. If I could take it back, I would.”
“There are no do-overs in this scenario.”
Bummer, because I could sure use one.
“Karini,” he says evenly. “Igor Vasiliev is very important to Bryant Industries. He’s considering partnering with us for many, many millions of dollars with my recruiting business in Russia.”
“Okay. But he seemed happy with you when he left. Wasn’t he?”
My naiveté does not charm Cage.