Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Vera! Welcome!” she says in perfect English. She gives Markov a curious look.
“Professor Kuznetsova?” I say, reaching a tentative hand out to her. “You came all the way to get me at the airport? I’m honored, really.”
“Please, call me Irina,” she says sheepishly. “You and another one of your classmates, Jake Thomas, took the same flight. I had no time to introduce you two or I would have made sure you made each other’s acquaintance well before the flight.”
Markov stands stoically to the side.
“You brought a guest?” she asks, her brow furrowed.
God. Here we go.
“Looks more like a bodyguard to me,” a booming voice says in English behind me. I turn to see a man who could be the poster child for ‘All-American’ standing behind me—light brown hair, perfect teeth, pale blue eyes, and an athletic build.
He looks like a child next to Markov.
“Jake Thomas,” he says, extending his hand to me. “We were on the same flight but not all of us got mysteriously upgraded to first class.” He circles his neck as if pained from sleeping in coach and gives me a wink.
I turn away, my cheeks flushing. Markov narrows his eyes.
“Bodyguard?” Irina asks. Oh, God. I can’t stand the idea of anyone thinking I brought a bodyguard with me. Nobody knows who I am or where I come from.
What if she sends me home? After everything I’ve done and everything I’ve gone through to get into this program…
My cheeks flush hot as I shake my head and remember that Markov can’t speak English. “No, no,” I say with a forced laugh, trying not to panic. I wasn’t supposed to bring anyone with me. I should be here alone. Goddamn my father for not thinking about the finer details. It’s so typical of him to pronounce something that will have a direct impact on my life without caring about the ramifications for me.
I say the first thing that comes to mind. “This is—this is my husband.” Markov thankfully doesn’t react because he has no idea I just told such a bold-faced lie.
Irina stares but quickly composes herself.
“Oh! Of course!” Irina says. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”
She takes out her mobile and makes a quick call. I can’t understand what she’s saying but it seems as if she’s pleading with someone. Markov listens carefully, his face darkening.
Shit.
She comes back a minute later, smiling broadly. “All set,” she says. “You can come with me. I’ve arranged a car ride back to the school and will only have to make a minor adjustment to the room situation.”
Oh dear God.
The room situation.
“Have you two met on the way here?” Irina says, a wide smile in place. “Mr. Thomas didn’t come from too far away, Ms. Ivanov,” she says. “You hail from the Midwest, don’t you?”
”I do,” he says, sticking his hands in his pockets as if he’s being modest. “Though the last few years I studied at Harvard.”
Oh, God, name-dropping an Ivy League. Lovely.
The bustling atmosphere of the airport surrounding us makes me feel even more exhausted than ever. I stifle a yawn.
“You must be exhausted after that flight. Come, we’ll get you situated in your rooms and give you time to rest before we have a formal dinner tonight to introduce everyone.”
Get you situated in your rooms.
What have I done?
“Thank you.”
I have to tell Markov. If he hears from anyone else what happened. . . what if he tells them I lied? That he is actually my bodyguard?
How am I going to tell him?
Markov fits the luggage in an overhead rack on the roof of the car, which is admittedly handy. Jake gets into the car first, and I go to follow, but Markov takes me by the arm and shakes his head. “Nyet.”
He jerks his head behind him and makes me step aside so that he can sit beside Jake.
“Heh,” Jake says. “I guess if it were my wife, I wouldn’t want her sandwiched between us either.” He gives me a smile. I’m glad somebody can be a good sport about things.
A part of me is admittedly thankful, though. I don’t know Markov well, but I know him better than Jake, and if I’m going to be sitting side-by-side with a man, stuffed so close together we’re like sardines in a can, I’d rather be next to Markov than a stranger I don’t trust.
It doesn’t really dawn on me that, for all intents and purposes, Markov is a stranger I don’t trust.
We’re squeezed together on the ride to the school while Jake and Irina chatter on in Russian and I fight to keep my eyes open. Why did I say he was my husband? I had the entire flight to come up with a plan but feel like I’m flailing. What will they do with a married couple in the program? Ugh.