Chapter Twelve
“Oh my God,” I murmured, feeling the color rise in my cheeks. I leapt out of bed and jammed the spoon into the ice cream, then looked around frantically, trying to figure out the fastest way to grab my stuff and run out of here. And I stammered, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you. Obviously. Shit, what did I do with my keys? I’m going, I promise. As soon as I remember where my keys are. God, I am so sorry.”
She laughed delightedly and I turned to stare at her, wondering if maybe she was deranged. She dropped her bag and crossed the room to me, and grabbed my hand. “Jamie, right? I’m sorry, that was really mean of me. But God, you should have seen the look on your face.” She giggled happily.
Ok, she was definitely deranged. I stepped back from her, slipping my hand from hers, still looking desperately for my keys as I said, “Um, maybe my keys are downstairs. I’ll just–”
She took a step toward me again. “Jamie, don’t go! Dmitri will be totally pissed at me if you do. Where is he, anyway?”
“At his nightclub. He gave me a key. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Neither did Dmitri.” She grinned at me cheerfully. “I’m glad you’re here. I really wanted to meet you.”
I stopped what I was doing and took a good look at her. She seemed perfectly calm and collected, which didn’t make a lick of sense in these circumstances. “You gonna finish that?” she asked, reaching for the spoon that was sticking out of the carton in my hand.
“Uh, no.”
“Mind if I do? I’m starving. The food on the plane was horrifying. I mean, even more so than usual.” She dug some ice cream out of the container and stuck it in her mouth.
“Um…out of curiosity, why aren’t you trying to punch me in the face right now?” I asked, watching her closely.
“Oh boy. I really freaked you out with that jealous fiancé thing, didn’t I? Dmitri’s always telling me that not everyone appreciates my sense of humor. I really am sorry. I thought he was here, and I thought he’d be totally mortified by all of that. And basically, I live to embarrass him.” She smiled pleasantly as I blinked, trying to catch up with her mile-a-minute rambling.
“Are you really Dmitri’s fiancé?” I asked, wondering now if this was a friend playing a joke.
“I really am,” she said, with an odd little frown.
“So… not to be repetitive or anything, but why aren’t you attacking me right now, given the fact that you just found me in your fiancé’s bed?”
Her smile gave way to concern now, and she asked, “Jamie, how much has Dmitri told you about our engagement?”
“Nothing, really. Just that you’re getting married next June.” I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling like the floor was about to drop out from under me.
“That’s it? That’s all he told you?”
I nodded, and she set the ice cream down and came over to me, touching my arm lightly. “Shit, Jamie. I’m so sorry. You have absolutely no idea what’s going on. No wonder you’re so freaked. Maybe we should call Dmitri at the club, ask him to come home early so he can explain all of this to you.”
“Can’t. He’s got some…business tonight. I don’t want to make his night any more complicated than it already is.”
“What kind of business? Do you mean the work he does for my father?”
“Your father?” I echoed, more confused than ever.
“Yeah. Gregor Sokolov, his uncle. My father.”
“Oh, holy shit,” I gasped. That was one big, fat, incestuous step too far down the weirdness trail. I couldn’t take any more of this surreal conversation. I dodged around her and headed for the stairs.
“Shit,” Catherine exclaimed, chasing after me. “Ok, I probably shouldn’t have led off with the cousin thing. That must sound – well, Christ, completely horrifying. Jamie, stop for a second.”
I ignored her and ran to the kitchen, looking around desperately for my keys. They were nowhere to be seen. Fuck it, I’d walk. I headed for the front door, Catherine right on my heels, saying, “Jamie, please stop. Let me explain. God, Dmitri is going to kill me for driving you away like this. Just wait for a minute, ok?”
I burst out the front door with her right behind me, and jogged down the stairs. And she yelled from the top step, “Jamie, stop!” When that did nothing to detain me, she yelled, “It’s a fake marriage!”
That got the attention of everyone on the sidewalk, myself included. I turned back to her and said, “What?”
“It’s not a real marriage. It’s fake. And why the hell didn’t Dmitri tell you that?”
The tiniest glimmer of hope sparked inside me as I said, “Explain what that means.”
“Happily, as soon as you come back inside.”