“I need you to put your clothes on,” he says. “My father is about to arrive.”
“Shit, Anton!” I leap to my feet and scramble for the robe he gave me when we got home. “Your father! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did not know,” he says, shaking his head. “He did not believe me when I told him our news. So he is on his way over to see for himself.”
“When will he get here!?”
“He is pulling in now.”
My heart starts thudding like a drum being beaten by a meth-head. “Jesus, Anton!”
“I am sorry. He called on his way here. I have some clothes laid out in the bedroom for you.”
“Okay, I’ll just go throw on some makeup and put something on—”
“Don’t worry about makeup,” he says, slapping me on the butt as I pass him and race inside. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thanks, baby, but I—”
I stop dead in my tracks. Standing in front of me in the living room is a wolf in a suit. Gray hair slicked back over a face chiseled by a hard life, and cold eyes like his son’s. It is Sergei Todorov, Anton’s father.
And here I am, standing in a robe that is almost see-through.
“Well, well, well,” he says with a smile that I could see proceeding a gunshot. “My son’s new wife. Mia, I am Sergei.”
He extends a rough hand with lines like valleys and ravines that I am cautious to take but immediately do so out of fear of the consequences. I hear Anton step up behind me and feel his comforting hand on my lower back.
“Be nice, Father.”
“What do you mean?” Sergei smiles, almost crushing my hand in his. “I am a happy man today. My son has finally settled down!” His eyes narrow, and I feel small and suddenly wish I was a hermit crab with a shell I could crawl inside. “And where did he meet you?”
“I-I was a waitress at Becky’s Diner.”
“And you work nights?” he asks. “At a club perhaps?”
His thick Russian accent is like something straight out of the movies. I feel as though I am walking a tightrope, or a balance beam, or my feet are balanced on the edge of a knife. I shake my head quickly.
“No, no. I could never. Plus, my mother would kill me!”
Sergei mulls this over. “But you have a website,” he suggests. “You sell photos and videos of yourself—”
“NO!” I blurt out. I see anger flare at the interruption and quickly wave do and some sort of strange bow. “I mean – no, I would never! Sergei, I couldn’t. That…that just isn’t me. I promise you, I’m a nice girl. I’m just…well, I was just a waitress. That’s all. I promise.”
Oh, Jesus. I can’t take it.
My heart is going to explode into countless pieces of Jell-o, I just know it.
“She’s not a stripper, Father,” Anton says. “And if you insult her again…”
Something like a feral growl rumbles out from Anton’s chest. Sergei lifts his eyes from me and moves them to his son. I feel the tension in the air like a palpable force, and for a moment, wonder if these two wolves are going to go at each other.
But then, Sergei breaks and smiles.
“Ah, my son,” he roars. “Always a tough guy! Come here, Mia, and give me a hug!”
Before I can react, Sergei sweeps me into his arms, nearly crushing me with his embrace. He hugs me close, but I get a feeling this is all a show for his son. When he releases me, I take a deep breath and fall back again Anton’s chest.
“I am sorry,” he whispers once his father is gone. “He wants to make sure the woman I choose brings no shame to the family.”