Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Being a nice person, she’s never acted anything but happy for me, but I know how much the scholarship committee’s rejection devastated her.
“I don’t think it was dumb luck,” Nikolai says softly. “I think you’re underestimating your appeal.”
Oh God. My heart rate jacks up, my face burning impossibly hotter as Alina stiffens, her gaze bouncing between me and her brother. There’s no mistaking his meaning, no waving it off as a casual compliment about my scholastic abilities, and she knows it as well as I do.
Still, I try. Pretending like it’s all a joke, I grin widely. “That’s very nice of you to say. What about you two? Where did you go to school?”
There. Change of topic. I’m proud of myself until I realize that if, for some reason, either of the siblings didn’t go to college, my question could offend them.
Thankfully, Alina doesn’t bat an eye. “I went to Columbia, and Kolya finished Princeton.” She’s composed again, her manner friendly and polite. “Our father wanted us to attend college in America; he thought it provided the best opportunities.”
“Is that why you speak English so well?” I ask, and she nods.
“That, and we both attended boarding school here as well.”
“Oh, that explains the lack of accent. I’ve been wondering how you both managed not to have it.”
“We also had American tutors back in Russia,” Nikolai says, a mocking half-smile playing on his lips. Clearly, he knows I’m trying to diffuse the tension, and he finds my efforts amusing. “Don’t forget that, Alinchik.”
His sister stiffens again for some reason, and I busy myself with clearing the rest of my plate. I have no idea what landmine I’ve stepped on, but I know better than to proceed with this topic. As I’m finishing up my food, I glance over at Slava and find him done as well.
“Would you like some more?” I ask, smiling as I gesture at his empty plate.
He blinks up at me, and Alina says something in Russian, presumably translating my question.
He shakes his head, and I smile at him again before looking over the other adults at the table. To my relief, they appear to have finished also, with Nikolai just sitting back, watching me, and Alina gracefully patting her lips with a napkin. Miraculously, her red lipstick leaves no traces on the white cloth—though I probably shouldn’t be surprised, given that the bright color survived the entire meal without smearing or fading.
One of these days, I’m going to ask her to share her beauty secrets with me. I have a feeling Nikolai’s sister knows more about makeup and clothes than ten YouTube influencers combined.
I’m about to excuse myself and Slava so we can resume our lessons when Pavel and Lyudmila walk in. He’s carrying a tray with pretty little cups, a jar of honey, and a glass teapot filled with black tea. He sets it on the table while Lyudmila clears away the dishes.
“None for me, thank you,” I say when he places a cup in front of me. “I don’t drink tea.”
He gives me a look suggesting I’m little better than a wild animal, then whisks my cup away and pours tea for everyone else, my student included. The delicate china looks ridiculous in his massive hands, but he handles the task deftly, making me wonder if he worked in some high-end restaurant prior to joining the Molotov household.
“Thank you for a wonderful meal. Everything was delicious,” I tell him when he passes by me, but he just grunts in response, stacking the dishes that his wife didn’t get to in a carefully arranged pyramid on top of the tray before carrying them all away. It’s not until he’s gone that I remember something important.
I turn to Nikolai, my face warming again as I meet his tiger gaze. “I keep forgetting to ask… Did Pavel repark my car somewhere? I didn’t see it in front of the house. Also, I don’t think I ever got my car keys back.”
“Really? That’s odd.” Adding a spoonful of honey to his tea, Nikolai stirs the liquid. “I’ll ask him about that.” He hands the honey jar to Slava, who adds several spoonfuls into his cup—the boy must have a serious sweet tooth.
“That would be great, thank you,” I say, picking up my glass of plain water—the only liquid besides coffee I like to drink. “What about the car? Is there a garage or something nearby?”
“At the back of the house, just underneath the terrace,” Alina replies in her brother’s stead. “Pavel must’ve moved it there.”
“Okay, awesome.” I grin, inexplicably relieved. “I was half-afraid you guys decided it’s too much of an eyesore and pushed it into the ravine.”
Alina laughs at my joke, but Nikolai just smiles and sips his honey-sweetened tea, watching me with an inscrutable expression.
19
Chloe
The rest of the afternoon flies by. As soon as lunch is over, I find the garage—the entrance to it is at the back of the house, just past the laundry room—and verify that my car is indeed there, looking even older and rustier next to my employers’ sleek SUVs and convertibles. Then, since the weather is beautiful—low seventies and sunny—I take Slava for a hike in the forested portion of the estate rather than teaching him in his room. We tromp through a wildflower-filled meadow, climb down to a small lake we find about a half mile to the west, and chase a dozen squirrels into the trees. Well, Slava chases them, giggling maniacally; I just observe him with a smile.