Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Ouch, looks like I have just proved how unsophisticated I am. I hide my flaming cheeks behind the cream menu and try to appear unfazed as I gaze at the menu. The prices are a shocker. I can hardly believe what I am seeing. A hundred and twenty dollars for a tuna steak! Even more outrageous is something called marbled steak apparently from black cattle raised in Japan. That delicacy is four hundred and fifty dollars.
Jesus!
I can’t even begin to imagine a piece of meat costing that much under any circumstances, but here it is. Rich people doing rich things. My eyes skim further down the cursive writing. Wow! They have taken the humble apple pie, served it with gooseberry ice cream, and are charging forty-three dollars for it. Okay, it’s apparently flame grilled with Cognac, but even so… The cheese platter with five different cheeses flown in from Europe is fifty-five freaking dollars.
I put the menu on the table and look at him.
“What?” he asks, his face utterly expressionless.
“It’s really expensive here, isn’t it?”
He shrugs. “Are you worried I can’t afford it.”
I don’t want to make a fool of myself, so I bite my lip to stop myself from saying more unsophisticated shit. “No, of course not.”
For a few seconds there is silence, then he breaks it. “It’s your eighteenth birthday, Amelia. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. I want you to remember tonight as something special.”
To my horror tears flood my eyes. In my whole life no one has ever done anything this nice for me. I blink hard to stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. Every freaking time I see him I end up crying and I don’t want him to think of me as some kind of big crybaby.
I want him to see me as a confident adult not some sniveling, fragile child. I take a deep breath and force a smile. “Yes, I know you can afford all this. It’s just… um… no one has been this kind to me for as long as I can remember.”
“It’s just dinner, Amelia,” he says softly.
I stare at him. He is so unlike anything I’ve known. “I guess I’m just not used to such extravagance.”
He lifts a finger and almost instantly a waiter materializes. “Two shots of Beluga Gold Line,” he tells the man.
Two shots of clear liquid in frosted glasses comes faster than I expected. I assume it’s vodka. My research has indicated Russians drink a lot of vodka.
“Drink up,” he orders, raising his glass to me.
For a split second I hesitate and think of myself alone in the woods eating a cupcake. This is so different than any birthday I’ve ever had. My life has changed beyond recognition and that is an amazing, beautiful thing. No more Dan. In this new life I get to seize the moment with both hands. I smile at him as I raise my glass to my lips. Together we throw our shots down our throats. The alcohol is like liquid fire running down my throat. I feel it like a warm lick inside my stomach.
“Better?” he asks.
I beam at him. He was right to order the shots. I don’t feel the way I felt before the drink. “Yes,” I admit.
“Now, may I suggest the lobster and crab ravioli to start? I’m told it’s very good.”
A thought in my head wonders who told him that. Another woman he brought here? My eyes move towards the menu on the table. Sixty dollars. Wow! But in this new life I seize it all with both hands. “Okay,” I whisper.
“And for the main course, especially, if you have never had it, you must try the Kobe steak. There’s nothing quite like it.”
Ah, the Japanese black cow. I nod. “Okay.”
Wordlessly, I watch him order champagne. He is so self-assured and confident it is a pleasure to see him in action. I cannot help staring at his mouth. His lips are sensuous. The champagne arrives almost instantly. I listen to its hiss and watch the mist that comes out of the bottle. My mind records everything. This is a new experience and I want to savor it.
The waiter pours the bubbles out with flourish and places the tall flutes in front of us.
“To you,” Viktor says, lifting his glass.
“To me,” I echo in a daze.
A million cold bubbles pop on the surface of my tongue. I’ve never had real champagne before. A long time ago down by the river, I had a mouthful of some cheap imitation with some other kids. It was pretty vile, but this… this is delicious.
“So, Amelia, tell me about you,” Viktor invites.
It must have been the vodka on an empty stomach, because I open my mouth and words rush out. I never stop talking as I babble away my whole life. Thank God, the food arrives.