Page 83 of Heartfelt Pain
“Yes.”
There’s a tense beat as I fold my napkin in my lap.
She takes a deep breath. “I suppose you know all about that.”
“I know. . . a little.” Russet’s never hidden her dislike of her mother-in-law.
Yelena plays with the collection of rings on her fingers. “You get your nails done with Lila Romanova every four weeks.”
“Yes.” I hold out my hands, wiggling my fingers. “I went with red.”
She smiles as she appraises the manicure. “I always thought it so clever what you and her husband do.”
I cross my arms leaning back. I’m oddly not annoyed by this showing of nosiness.
“Lila used to come to you, asking for information on her husband’s dealings. She does not agree with how he runs things. Now he pays you to sit with her and listen to all her ideas. You nod and I don’t know, perhaps you give her a tidbit every so often. She leaves feeling like it’s a successful meeting discussing business while posing as an innocent spa date between friends. All the meanwhile her husband hands you a tidy bill and pays for your fresh set.”
I bite back a smile. “I didn’t know you frequent the Wellford.” It’s Lila Romanova’s preferred spa.
Yelena glances down, lifting her brows as she has some internal dialogue with herself. “Actually, I find they overcharge.”
“Is that supposed to be a dig at me?”
“No.” And there’s nothing on her face to suggest otherwise. She’s a perfectly pale doll, but there’s a shadow of gray that makes her appear older than she is. Lev is old but hearty. A warmth, whether it’s fake or not, exudes from him, bringing life to the party. His wife is a dainty, rigid specimen in comparison. “On the contrary I applaud you. It’s easy money and buys you favor with a customer known for being an asshole.”
The curse word sounds strange coming from Yelena’s puckered mouth.
“He lets her out on a leash,” I say of Lila’s husband. The man can’t bother to have a conversation with her himself so he’d rather pay me. “They need couples therapy. Bad.”
“May I please take your order?” a waiter in a bowtie asks. “Your usual, ma’am?”
Yelena nods.
“I’ll take the cheeseburger please.” I hand the menu over. “Why’d you really agree to meet with me?”
“Why’d you really ask me to meet with you?” she returns, her brow knitting together. The wrinkles only add to herweary presence. God, is this what Abe and Ben see when they look at me?
I shake my head. “I don’t know.” I just saw Yelena, standing there in her own house, looking like a stranger.
Feeling bad for this woman should be a waste of my time. But something draws me to her. Maybe it’s the fact I know it can’t be easy, putting up with a man like Lev.
She’s much more soft-spoken than I thought she’d be. Roma didn’t talk about his parents a lot when we first dated. Then stories trickled in the deeper I got into Aunt Macy’s business.
The perfect Russian doll people called her. Cold, uptight.
She bows her head slightly. “I am worried about Roma.”
I pull my drink closer, my shoulders tensing. “I’m really not interested in talking about your son.”
“I want him to open his own garage.”
A large party passes by our table.
“What?” I ask.
Yelena toys with a thin silver bracelet around her wrist. “He is very good with cars.”
Most would think her pride is too subtle. But I can see how bright it burns in her eyes. The rest of her face buried deep beneath the mask of pale boredom.
