Page 66 of Tarnished Reign

Something flashes across Dimitri’s face, almost a look of anger. It's gone as fast as it appeared and is replaced by his usual stoic expression.

“Fill your plate up; it all needs eating,” Vera instructs Virgil, breaking the tension.

The conversation begins to flow again. I drift into my thoughts and let the conversation hum around me. It’s pleasant letting the chatter of others wash over me, knowing that I don't have to try to join in. At one point they lapse into talking in a different language. Russian, I think. Nataliya bangs her hand on the table.

“English please, people. We don't all speak your language. So rude.”

I smile at her. She's feisty and funny. I think if I got to know her better, I'd really like her.

As the meal progresses, I'm increasingly aware of Dimitri’s heavy focus on me. He keeps glancing at me, his eyes roaming my face. I don't look at him, but I'm all too aware of his scrutiny. I can sense it on me even when I can't see it. It's heavy somehow, expectant, full of something that I can't quite name.

When everyone has eaten their fill, Vera demands that we stay a little longer and partake of dessert. I haven’t eaten much of my meal, and I'm afraid of seeming rude. However, she clears my plates away without saying anything and offers me a friendly smile as she does so. Then she passes around smaller plates, each holding a slice of pale colored cake on it.

“Lemon cake, yummy. My favorite.” Nataliya claps her hands in delight. It’s something I’m realizing she does often.

I've never eaten lemon cake before, and I pick up my spoon and take a small bite. It's absolutely delicious. Sharp yet sweet. Light and fluffy, yet moist. I swallow and turn to Vera. “Did you make this yourself?” I don't think it's what she was baking earlier because that's still in the oven.

“Yes, I baked it two days ago. Do you like it?”

“It's delicious. It’s probably the nicest cake I've ever tasted.”

“It really is gorgeous, isn't it?” Nataliya says.

“You’re eating sugary desserts, and yet you didn't eat any salad or protein,” Jacob observes.

My face flushes, and for a moment I feel fear creeping in. This man is the head of a very powerful family, and I didn’t mean to offend him or his cooking.

He must realize my fear because he immediately places a hand very briefly on my forearm. “It's not criticism; I'm just making an observation. Didn't you like the food?”

“I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. The food was delicious, but I've been feeling queasy on and off for days now. When I feel sick, I find it hard to eat, but somehow, I can always eat cake or cookies. I don't know why.”

“I'm exactly the same,” Vera says. “There's something about nibbling at sweet food that’s just easier to manage. When I was pregnant with Dimitri, all I could eat was cake for the first few months. I put on a lot more weight than pure baby, let me tell you. I was stuffing my face with cookies, cake, and chocolate. So much chocolate. Dry crackers too, but very little else. The idea of eating meat or fish, oh my goodness. It made me feel quite unwell.”

“I’ve just realized something profound,” Nataliya says. “We three all have something in common.” She points between herself, me, and Dimitri.

“Oh?” Dimitri spares her a glance.

“Yes, we all have a dead parent.”

“Daughter,” Jacob snaps. “This isn't dinner table conversation.”

“It's true, though, Daddy.” She pouts at him. “I lost Mommy, and Dimitri lost his father, and Adriana has lost her mother. It’s something we all have in common. I wasn't trying to be flippant about it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dimitri snaps. He grabs his napkin and wipes his mouth before dropping it on his plate and covering the rest of his uneaten cake. He grabs the bottle of white wine, pours half a glassful, and downs it in one go.

Then he pushes his chair back and holds his hand out toward me. I stare at it for a moment, confused, and he beckons me by flicking his fingers at me as if I'm some sort of dog. I want to tell him to get lost, but I don't want to make a scene in front of his family. Instead, I glance around at them, unsure of what to do.

“We're going,” he announces to the table. “I'll call you later.” He addresses this to Jacob. “Virgil will fill you in for the meantime, if that's okay with you, Virgil?”

“Of course,” Virgil says.

Dimitri looks at me again, cocks his head slightly to one side, and flicks his hand at me once more. “Are you coming?”

Well, at least he's giving me a choice.

“Dimitri, I didn't mean to say anything to upset anyone.” Nataliya looks genuinely upset now. This isn't the pout she gave her father, but real remorse on her face.

“It's fine,” Dimitri says. “We just need to get back. We don't want to be traveling in the dark.”

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