The Prelude (A Musical Interlude Novel) - By Kasonndra Leigh Page 0,28
to satisfy his needs.” She takes yet another sip of her drink, sets the glass down, crosses her hands, and bores into me with a borderline manic smile. “Do you enjoy sex, Erin? If not, then you shouldn’t be trying to snag my son. It’ll never last.”
I think I’ll just lay down, die, and get this bat shit insane moment over with now.
“Damn it, Mother! Why do you insist on acting this way?” Alek growls, banging his fist down on the table.
“What is it, darling? I have every right to know how my money is being used,” Katerina answers and turns back to me.
Everyone else at the table either continues eating or stares back and forth among the three of us. Somehow, I find my voice in all of this craziness. “Yes, I—I enjoy sex very much. It’s a favorite pastime of mine, actually. Do you enjoy sex, Signora Dostov?” I have no idea at what point and time in my life when I had grown such large balls.
“We’re not talking about me, now are we?” Katerina picks up her fork and stabs her perfectly cut portions of roast. I can’t let her off the hook that easily. Women like this enjoy dishing out tests, and she just tossed a fat one at me.
“I mean, it was a pretty big part of what made me name the line Mystical. Because sex is a mysterious thing, when done correctly, I mean. More people should talk about it this way.” Across the table, Alek lowers his head. I think he’s laughing.
“I toast to that,” Frederico says, raising his glass and waggling his eyebrows at his wife.
“I second that notion,” Nikolai says and raises his glass too.
“I might as well go with the flow. You’re all terrible. Remind me not to bring any sane dates home in the next couple of years,” Adriana says from beside me. “Here’s to sex because that’ll definitely sell Erin’s Mystical line. Oh yes, and it’ll also make my brother and Nikolai tons of money.” She beams a grin and a relieved chuckle passes over the table.
But Katerina doesn’t handle defeat so well.
“Surely your mother must be extremely proud of her daughter’s accomplishments in such a short time,” she blurts and waits for my reaction.
“She is,” I barely whisper. I’m cornered and feel trapped. My breathing increases, and I feel Alek’s eyes analyzing my face.
“And your father, what does he think of his daughter’s accomplishments?” Katerina asks, probing deeper. She might’ve been born in Texas, but she has the ruthlessness of an assassin somehow built into her body. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think she already knew the answers to her questions.
“My father is dead.” Suddenly the urge to be away from the prying eyes and questions overpowers me. Talking about that part of my life never turns into a good thing for me. Before the tingle in my chest gets any stronger, I enact my exit plan.
“If you’ll excuse me.” I fake a few coughs, stand, and head outside.
“Erin wait,” Alek says, but I don’t listen to him. Between the sudden showering of attention from him, dealing with his ex girlfriends, and now this moment with the mother from Hell, I’ve had about all I can take.
I step outside and follow the path leading from the front door to the side of the house. I keep trotting until I find myself deep inside of an open area filled with terra cotta flower pots overflowing with tiny evergreen trees. Lake Como is still visible in the decreasing evening light. I step up on a pergola near the lake and glance across the water, closing my eyes.
The waves are gentle and soothing and the water has a floral odor to it. Only in Italy does the water smell like perfume. Both my father and sister used to love being near the ocean. The sudden grief rips at my chest, winding me. Tears burn my eyes. I won’t let them fall, though. I’ll never give those little demons power over me ever again.
The courtyard and the fragrant flowers enveloping me ease the anxiety fluttering inside my chest. But it doesn’t take away the sudden attack of loneliness I have to deal with each time someone mentions my family. Or the guilt I’ve yet to face for what I did the day my father and sister died.
I’m pretty sure I’m all alone; so I do the one thing my therapist back in the States told me to do