Page 26 of Under Control

“I don’t think I am,malishka.”

“Stop calling me that. What’s it even mean, anyway?”

“Baby girl.”

She snorts and looks out the window again. “Yeah, I figured. I know your type, okay? I’m just telling you straight up, we’re having dinner, and I’m going home. That’s the end of it.”

“I appreciate you being up front about how you feel.”

She gives me a strange look but shakes her head and goes back to ignoring me.

The ice doesn’t thaw on the car ride over. She’s completely frozen, and it’s going to take a little time and a bit of finesse to warm her up.

Which I don’t mind. Some men are aggressive and short-sighted. All they think about is what they can haveright now.

But I’ve been successfully running a criminal organization for a decade now. I took over when I was twenty-eight from my father, God rest his soul, and I’ve been growing and refining our operations ever since.

I learned the value of waiting a long time ago.

Anton drops us off at The Golden Palace, one of only two Russian restaurants in the city. We’re right on the edge of Rittenhouse Square, and more than a few passing men stare at Karine as she steps onto the sidewalk.

Jealousy flares, but I push it back. Can I blame them for looking at a beautiful woman?

Isn’t that the point of tonight as well?

To bring her out and be seen with her?

But still, the animal inside of me wants to make sure my claim is staked.

I take her arm and lead her into the restaurant. She gives me an annoyed look but says nothing as the hostess instantly takes us back to the best table in the house. We sit across from each other and we’re given water and wine. I thought about making this a traditional meal and showering her in quality vodka, but I can be a good American when I choose.

She looks around. The place is decorated in creams and golds like a tsarist palace. Even the chairs ooze wealth and power. An enormous chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and the floor is covered in patterned red carpet. The waitress returns with fine caviar, which Karine doesn’t touch.

“Tell me about yourself,” I instruct her.

She swirls her wine. “There’s not much to say.”

“Try anyway. Where did you go to school? Where did you grow up? What was your family like when you were young?”

“Do you actually care?”

“Very much.”

Reluctantly, she talks about living in her current house her entire life. She went to local public school, got good grades, but never went to college. “That was for Luka, not for me,” she says, shrugging slightly, but she can’t quite mask the bitterness in her tone.

“Did you want to go to college?”

“I applied and got into Temple, actually.” She seems surprised and looks down at her glass. She laughs slightly. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”

“What happened?”

“Money, mostly. There was no way my parents would’ve helped cover tuition. I got a decent scholarship, but it wasn’t nearly enough.”

“You could’ve taken out loans.”

She tilts her head side to side. “You’re right, but from my perspective, it wasn’t really an option. All my life I was told that my place was at home with my parents until I met a man and got married. College, work, living alone, that was never an option.”

“Your parents are traditional.”

---