Still, Demyan was a very good host and turned his attention to his guest, though he did tease her a couple of times during service. ‘What happened to the wedding?’ he asked when she brought the main course, and Demyan glanced at his empty water glass for her to fill it.
‘They cancelled.’
‘Liar,’ Demyan responded softly, watching her shaking hand overfill his glass. He said it so that only Alina could hear and she turned her burning face to him.
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘I will deal with you later,’ Demyan said, except he was smiling and so too, for a very brief second, was she.
Her first genuine smile of the night and Alina didn’t know why, didn’t understand the message in his eyes, for, had Hassan not been there, he might have told her that he would put her over his knee.
Alina thought herself as clueless at flirting as she was at temping.
She was doing it, though.
She knew exactly the moment his eyes were on her, even with her back to him. She could feel it, that was all.
And when she stretched her back, when she put her hands behind her waist and her bust jutted out a touch, even if it was without deliberate intention, it was for him. Her body, rather than her mind, seemed to know how to play this game.
It was a dangerous game, though. She knew that. But on what should have been the worst night of an already wretched day, for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom, Alina felt like laughing.
Until he left.
Glynn had done everything he could to tempt him with dessert wine or cognac but to everyone in the restaurant’s disappointment, all too soon, though respectably late, Demyan and his guest left.
‘Off to cause mayhem,’ Pierre sighed, swiping the wallet containing his tip before Alina could and then watching Demyan’s suited shoulders depart.
Alina was beyond confused.
He hadn’t told her off, he hadn’t even seemed offended or slighted.
As they all huddled together at the end of the night, waiting for Pierre to put them out of their misery and tell them how big his tip had been, Alina’s mind wasn’t on the money—instead it was replaying Demyan’s words. I will deal with you later.
It wasn’t so much what he’d said, more the way that he’d said it, that had brought a flurry of unfamiliar nerves.
‘Did you smell him?’ Pierre asked, handing over their envelopes.
‘No,’ Alina lied, because she wanted to bathe in a scent named Demyan and then went very pink when Pierre gave out the divided-up tips and she realised how generous Demyan’s tip had been.
He wasn’t cross.
It was so warm that Alina hadn’t brought a jacket. She grabbed her bag and though usually she walked quickly to get her bus, tonight she lingered a little, looking at the beautiful Opera House, when usually she dashed past, just enjoying the vibe of a warm Sydney night.
For once she was going to be reckless, Alina decided. Instead of adding the tip to her savings she was going to put the deposit down for a market stall.
For her, that was wild.