Page 36 of My Trojan Horse Majesty

I mutter, “Usually.”

But just then, it finally roars to life. I pat the dash. “Atta girl, Rita.”

“Rita?”

“For margarita,” I say. “Never mind.”

He frowns.

“There’s a Bank of America about three miles from here.”

“Tell me where to turn.”

The rest of the drive, Leonid says nothing. In fact, he’s so intent on driving and the road that it’s almost alarming.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you hadn’t been driving very long.”

“I was a chauffeur for a while,” he says. “But I didn’t drive cars that could go quite this fast, so I’ve only been driving at this speed for a few years now.”

“What?” I ask. “Are cars in Russia slow?”

“Not now. But since becoming the czar, people act like Ican’tdrive myself. Before that, well, I drove myself places. . .sometimes.”

He’s a very odd man. Maybe it’s because he’s Russian. Even so, I can’t help sneaking a glance now and again. I may have spent most of my formative years in a town of five hundred, but I’ve met a lot of men since starting college. I even dated quite a few of them. Over all of them, Tim stood out as the handsomest. He has gleaming, wavy hair that falls around his face. His light, golden-brown eyes are somehow also commanding, and his broad face and athletic build made him a standout in every way. He’s also tall, at around six foot. That’s important to me, since I’m five eleven.

But Leonid—he makes Tim look shabby.

His hair’s immaculately cut, not a hair out of place, and it’s a half dozen shades of shining, golden blonde. It’s the kind of color that no one has without paying a fortune. I used to have hair that color, until it darkened as I aged. Now I have to pay for highlights like his. Something tells me he’s not paying to look the way he does. His eyes are a bright, vibrant shade of green I’m not sure I’ve ever seen, more like the grass in Easter egg baskets for children than anything I’ve seen in nature. His skin’s a deeper, brighter gold than a burnished apple or a rich autumn leaf, and it perfectly complements his hair. He looks. . .well, he looks like a cartoon drawing of a Prince Charming come to life.

No wonder our whole country’s lost their mind for him. In a world that grew up knowing that Disney princes didn’t exist, a young, handsome, rich one has turned up on our doorstep.

Or in my case, the driver’s seat of my car.

It’s a pity he’s a psycho.

Then again, those men were trying to kill us. “Here’s what I don’t understand. If they wanted to collect money from us, why did they try to shoot us?” I ask. “Oh, make a right turn here.”

He does.

“Because it’s not like they can collect any money for their boss if they kill the people who owe him, right?”

“Ah, butwedidn’t owe them,” Leonid says. “Your dear, beloved boyfriend owes them for who knows what. Killing us would send him the necessary message. Pay up, or lose something else, something more valuable.”

“I guess.” I’m not sure Tim would see losing me as a huge hit right now. He’s in prison, and it’s been days, and I’ve done nothing to get him out. “Turn left at the next light, and it’s around the corner.”

I should’ve just told Steve and Mom I needed money. Maybe they’d have been more reasonable than I thought. Maybe they’d have loaned it to me right away. Maybe then, I wouldn’t be shackled to this nut with some kind of invisible magic harness.

“What are your powers exactly?” I ask.

But we’ve just pulled into the parking lot of the Bank of America, and even more than learning about his powers, I’m really hoping that he can make good on his claim to wire me the money I need.

“You know what?” I put my hand on the door handle. “Tell me later. Get me money now. That’ll feel like a massive superpower already.”

“So you’re more of a gold-digger than a superhero fangirl.” Leonid’s chuckling as he hops out of the car.

“World’s least successful gold-digger,” I mutter. “Net worth of negative two horses and one horse-man pyro.”

“Don’t forget this truck that barely starts.”

---