As attracted as I am, I’m painfully aware he’s out of my league. Way, way out. He’s smart, powerful, capable, financially secure…probably well educated and cultured, too. I’m just a twenty-something who’s put her life on hold for the last eight years. Compared to him, I haven’t accomplished anything, and despite fairytales like Cinderella and Beauty and the Beast, people tend to hang out with people who are like them in terms of education, wealth and value. We really can’t be together.
So I just say, “For the internship. It means a lot.” All that you’ve done for me means a lot.
“It’s nothing,” Tolyan says placidly. “Just a few clicks to send a résumé to Lizochka.”
But would she have agreed to interview me without him sending it? I know my background is pretty pathetic, especially compared to others who probably have a lot of job experience and great college degrees and so on. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that Elizabeth is doing it as a favor to Tolyan.
“Still. It means a lot,” I say, grateful and wondering when and how I’m ever going to be able to pay him back for everything.
When we arrive at the penthouse, the dogs rush to meet us. Stravinsky in particular sniffs and licks my fingertips, then lets out a whine.
I scratch behind his ears. “What’s wrong, boy?” I ask him.
“He can smell the food you ate.”
“Really? Still?”
“He’s a dog. They can smell everything. This particular one thinks he can whine himself to a treat.”
“Can he?”
“No.” He gently taps the tip of Stravinsky’s nose. “No treat until it’s time.”
Stravinsky gives him a baleful look.
Tolyan narrows his eyes. “Stop complaining or you aren’t getting any.” He gestures at the kitchen counter. “Your phone,” he says. “I plugged it into the charger last night.” He scrutinizes me. “I don’t know how you can survive without a phone for so long.”
I shrug. “I almost never check it.” Not with the way things are.
I didn’t ask him for it this morning because it just never occurred to me. To be honest, there’s nothing exciting happening with my phone. The only thing I generally do with it is check the news, and I was distracted today. Ninety-nine percent of my inbox email is spam. I don’t do social media because there’s no point in having accounts when I can’t post anything. The risk of giving away where I am and who I might be close to is just too high. Even when I restrict my posts so that only friends can view them, I can never be sure Roy won’t find a way.
Tolyan pours himself a drink, then gestures at me. “Let me show you the place, so you know where things are.”
Without waiting for a response, he leads me
off. Guess this means he’s going to treat me like a temporary housemate rather than a hostage or something. It soothes the remnants of lingering reluctance I have over the fact that I’ve been forced to move in with him.
The master bedroom is on the opposite end from my room, which turns out to be one of two guest rooms. Then comes his office, which is inaccessible except with a passcode. Guess that means to stay out. I make a note of it so I don’t inadvertently trigger a secret alarm and get myself killed by some booby trap. I haven’t forgotten what he said in the morning.
He lets me in the office, though. Lots of computers, servers and other stuff I don’t recognize. A huge desk with three monitors. There is another door inside.
“Where does this go?” I ask.
“To my armory.”
“Your…armory?”
He nods. “In case of invasion.”
Invasion…?
He gives me a look. “It’s important to be prepared. Would you like to see it?”
“Uh…” I clear my throat. Am I supposed to say yes? The idea of being near guns dampens my palms with cold sweat.
“Never mind,” he says, like he can read the conflict on my mind. “You don’t seem that interested.” He leads me out, shutting the door. “That’s the pantry,” he says, gesturing at a space bigger than my entire garage apartment.
I look at the towering shelves stuffed with cereal, dog food, dried goods and canned food.