Page 8 of Ruthless Vows

“I could ask you the same question,” I toss back.

He shakes his head. “Actually, my date stood me up.”

“Really? She wasn’t interested in the pleasure of your company?” I ask sarcastically.

“No. She had a family emergency. She apologized she couldn’t join me tonight,” he replies easily.

“How thoughtful of her,” I mutter. If only that jerk could have offered me the same courtesy.

“Your turn,” he says on a short nod. “Who stood you up?”

“A guy named after a villain in a kids’ movie,” I reply dryly, unsure why I’m even answering at all.

His eyebrows go up, “What kid’s movie?” he asks going along with it.

“Frozen,” I clarify.

He ponders that for a couple of seconds. “I must admit I haven’t seen it.”

For some reason, that makes me laugh.

“I didn’t think you would have,” I state with a smile. “Anyway, my date’s name is Hans. And it’s not even an actual date; I was meeting up with him to discuss work. But he stood me up without a word.”

At that moment, my phone lights up with a text from Hans’s assistant. I read it with a clenched jaw.

“And there’s the word. Apparently he had a prior engagement. Moron,” I say on an eye roll.

Mr. Handsome’s lips twitch like he’s about to smile, but then his features settle into that unassuming calmness.

“Now that I’ve ascertained you’re free, why don’t you join me for dinner instead?” he suggests.

“No thanks. I’d rather just go home. I hate Chinese food anyway.”

“I could request that the chef prepare a meal you would prefer,” he returns without missing a beat.

I groan softly. “I really should go home.”

Call me shallow, but it’s really hard to say no to a man who looks like a fantasy of mine come to life. Now that I think about it, he seems familiar in a way. I’m pretty sure I’ve never met him before, I’d remember but it feels like I have somehow.

“Come on,krasavitsa,” he says, a mild accent peeking out in his voice. I can’t place it, however, and I especially have no idea what that last word means. “Take a chance. I’ll make the evening worth your while.”

“Where are you from?” I ask.

“How about we start over? What’s your name?”

And just like that, I’ve unwittingly found myself on a date. But there’s no harm in enjoying the rest of my day.

“Lucia Kent,” I answer and for the briefest of moments, I spot a flicker of recognition in his gaze. But it disappears just as fast, leaving me wondering if I saw anything at all.

“Lucia,” he repeats with a small smile. “I’m Ivan Volkov.”

“I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ivan, but I did meet you while you were being an asshole.”

“So is that your thing? Helping people you feel are in unfair situations.”

“He apologized. You could have let it go.”

“Letting things go is not in my nature,” he says thoughtfully.

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