Chapter Sixteen

Kristen

I make a discovery: emergency chocolate ice cream tastes even better when mixed with vodka. I started out with just the ice cream in the carton…then topped it with some chocolate syrup. But when that failed to perk me up, I added the vodka. Liza won’t mind. She’s pretty generous with her liquor cabinet.

“Stop staring at me like that,” I say.

“Like what?”

“Like you disapprove.” I’m sick of disapproval.

Tolyan grunts. “I merely find your determination to ruin good vodka with ice cream sad.”

Right. Because hearing the love of your life telling his mom he’d rather cut off his balls than marry you isn’t sad.

I curl up in an armchair and sniffle, scooping up chocolate-covered ice cream and vodka, half-half. This is better than love anyway. Who needs love when you can have calories and potato alcohol? There’s a reason Liza drinks so much of it. It’s…awesome. Fiery and smooth and tasty with chocolate and ice cream. And gluten-free, if I’m not mistaken.

The phone’s silent. Antoine is probably relieved I went home without forcing a discussion. Or maybe he’s just happy I finally got the hint.

Well. Not much a hint. He said it out loud. To his mom. And after the best kiss of my life.

What must his mom be thinking? Probably “Wow, that girl must be totally horrible for my son to feel that way.” Or maybe “Guess those tabloid stories are true…”

I scoop up more ice cream and vodka and shove the mixture into my mouth, my spoon picking up speed. God. Why did I ever think I could seduce him?

Tolyan watches me, his pale blue eyes inscrutable. “Kristen, I’m only saying this because I feel it’s my duty to Lizochka to treat you as…a ward I never had.”

“Okay…”

“You should’ve suspected Antoine does not care for you. At all.”

That raises my hackles. “Really? How would I have known that?”

“The intruder at your apartment. He is still alive.”

“And?”

“If someone did what he did to you to a woman I care for, he wouldn’t be breathing.”

I blink as my brain registers that I’m getting unsolicited love advice from a man who might just use real blood to make a Bloody Mary.

Humiliation heats my face, and I eat faster, hoping the cold of the ice cream can freeze it off. Maybe Tolyan’s right, but how was I supposed to know Antoine had no feelings for me?

That first time we met… When he pushed me out of that swerving car… He looked at me like he’d just found an angel.

Two years after that, I had an uncomfortable and vaguely threatening situation with an ex who refused to take no for an answer. I was in Milan at the time, and I didn’t know precisely what to do when he got aggressive. The local police wouldn’t take my complaints seriously, but Dominic and Antoine were in town for a couple of days on business, and I mentioned it in passing during lunch. That evening, Antoine took care of the guy, who apologized to me profusely on his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks, and never bothered me again.

And recently, with the kidnapping scare… Antoine was ashen until he saw I was all right. Then he held me like he’d never let go.

Those are just three examples off the top of my head…and with lots of vodka in my belly. So… Why would I think Antoine has nothing but disgust for me?

I’m not stupid. Even though I missed a chunk of their conversation, I got the gist of why his mother came all the way to Los Angeles to talk to him. He needs to marry to inherit some huge trust fund. There. I can reason things out, even with vodka and ice cream. I know it’s extreme, but some rich people are really weird. Like Liza’s family. Her dad really wanted her and her brothers to marry within six months and stay married for a year to get some paintings. If Liza’s dad can do it, why not someone in Antoine’s family?

But what sucks is…Antoine knows if he needs to marry someone to inherit some money, I’m willing and able. But no. I won’t do. He’d rather lose his balls first. That’s some serious loathing. Everyone knows how men feel about their sex equipment.

I’m just not good enough for Antoine Boucher. And he has lots of serious feelings for me. Disgust. Contempt. Active revulsion. Those count, even though they aren’t the ones I wish he had.

God. It isn’t fair!

Sudden rage explodes in my chest. If Antoine really dislikes me so much, why did he go out of his way to be kind and make me hope? Why did he look at me like I was something special? Why did he hold me like I mattered? He could’ve been perfunctory. He could’ve just ignored my Milano stalker boyfriend because it really wasn’t any of his concern. He could’ve treated me the way Tolyan treats me—with professional tolerance.

If Antoine had done that, I could have given up. I could have found someone else by now.

“Bastard,” I hiss between clenched teeth.

“That he is,” Tolyan agrees.

“He should’ve been a total dick to me.”

“He should have, so you could’ve found a nice guy in accounting.”

“He shou— What?”

“Doesn’t Lola have a guy in accounting?”

“Yes. Jimmy.” With a pair of black glasses, a goatee that’s actually a bit too long to be a goatee and owlish green eyes. I’m certain I’ve never mentioned him to Tolyan…or anyone. On the other hand, Tolyan has a way of finding things out. For all I know, he could’ve already run background check on everyone at Lola, Inc.

“You should’ve found someone like that. Smart. Dependable. Gainfully employed.”

And who would pee in his pants and flee in terror if he ever saw who’s watching over me at the moment.

“You need a man who thinks it’s his lifelong mission to make you happy instead of putting you through all…this.” Tolyan gestures at the quarter-empty vodka bottle and my ice cream. “Nobody’s worth that much hassle.”

“You’re oddly comforting to talk to.” And I’m unsure how I feel about that. I’m talking to a man who could’ve been a serial killer if he leaned one extra degree the wrong way.

“I’m a man of many talents, Kristen King. It’s a prerequisite to being Lizochka’s assistant.”

I stab into my ice cream. Too bad his talents don’t include erasing Antoine from my memory.