The Master (The Game Maker #2)(69)

“Well, it’s a cute name.”

Jess said, “Your name doesn’t suck too bad, Becks.”

Rebecca ignored her, asking me, “Why don’t you tell us about yourself?”

Máxim turned his chair and faced me.

Dodge and deflect? Bobbing and weaving was difficult in the hot seat. “I’m about to finish college.”

“Oh, where do you go?” she asked.

“It’s a small private school.” Máxim would think I was lying, believing I’d denied going to college.

“You and Maksim met in Miami, right? What brought you there?”

“I like the city very much. I’m keeping my eye out for new opportunities there.” Not a lie.

“How long have you two been together?”

He smoothly interjected, “Not long enough. How could it be?”

Charming devil. I tasted my old-fashioned. Not bad.

“What’s your major?” Natalie asked.

“Business. Economics major, finance minor.” Too much information was flowing from me! I felt like a miser flinging away coins.

Máxim raised his brows, sipping his drink.

Natalie looked impressed. “I can’t even do simple sums in my head. Business was forever out of my reach.”

“But you’re getting your PhD, right? Who needs simple sums when there are calculators?”

“That’s what I’ve always said!”

Jess said, “Hey, if I sit between her and Natalie, will I get smarter? I guarantee they’ll get sexier.”

Rebecca spoke over her: “Tell us about your family, Cat.” Such a “mom” thing to say. In an arch tone, she added, “It’s like pulling teeth getting information out of any of these Russians.”

Over the rim of his glass, Máxim said, “Yes, Katya, tell us all about them.”

“My mom was from Cuba. She met my father when he visited from the US.” The weight on my chest was returning.

Servers approached with the first course, distracting the table’s attention from me. Gracias a Dios.

Under his breath, Máxim said, “How much of that was true?”

“Whatever you think is true, multiply that by ten. Oh, wait, anything multiplied by zero equals zero.”

“For future reference, a US citizen would have difficulty traveling to Cuba, especially twenty-plus years ago.”

“Thanks for the tip,” I said, instead of crying, “My father was an attaché there!” One day this boiler was going to blow. . . .

Over the next hour, the dishes continued to arrive. Some were Midwest Americana, some traditional Russian—both exotic to me. The cook in me relished the experience. When I tasted pelmeni, meat dumplings, I told Máxim, “This is really good.”

At my ear, he murmured, “I’d much rather be eating Cuban.”

I coughed and kicked him.

All throughout the meal, he kept his eyes on me. When he wasn’t indulging in the courses, he rested his arm over the back of my chair. Protective, possessive.

He wasn’t the only one studying me. Aleks seemed to be taking my measure. Even Natalie cast me a couple of quizzical looks over her wineglass.

After the dessert course—Jess inhaled her red velvet cake, then trespassed on mine—she rose, telling Máxim, “I hope you’re ready with your best-man speech. We’re doing our dog and pony shows tonight, while I’m still coherent.”

Rebecca said, “What? You can’t! Those come after the ceremony.”

Jess blinked. “No. This works best for me.” When Rebecca started to bluster, Jess said, “This is how they do it in Russia. Ask Maksim.”

Rebecca turned to him. “Is that true?”

Máxim gave a measured answer, “The most prominent Russian families fairly much do as they please.”

Jess cast her a see? look. “In any case, the wedding coordinator ordered that this happen tonight. And who is she? Oh, yeah—she’s me. Relax, Becks. Remind me to get you a Valium.”

Rebecca turned to her daughter to do something, but Natalie said, “Jess’s coup to oust the coordinator was successful, Mom. We’re slaves to her dictates now.”

Rebecca faced Jess. “What are you going to do?”

“A vid.” At that, she swerved toward the front of the hall, to a computer.

“A video?” Rebecca whispered, aghast.

“Listen up,” Jess called as she queued up a video on a large screen against one wall. “Hey, errybody!” When the room quieted, she said, “I’d introduce myself, but let’s face it, my reputation precedes me, and I’ve slept with half of you. As maid of honor and coordinator for such a rush-job wedding, I did a vid instead of a speech. You’re welcome.” She pushed play, then returned to her seat.

She’d put together a compilation of pictures from the last couple of months of Natalie and Aleks’s relationship.

Leaning in toward me, she said, “Keep your eye on Aleks in the pics. He f*cking worships the ground Natalie walks on.”

It was true. He always had his gaze on his fiancée. Such devotion! Also interesting was the evolution of his expressions. At first, he looked stern and uncomfortable. As time passed he loosened up, even giving tentative smiles.