“I won’t take your money,” I mutter, trying not to look at him.
“Don’t worry.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know how to return it!” I answer sharply.
“And what’s it to you that I have my problems?”
“Maybe I’m just kind today. I want to help.”
“Say one more thing that you’re a wizard and flew here in a blue helicopter!” I blurt out, unable to hold back.
Igor reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch is almost weightless—barely noticeable. But it makes my heart beat faster.
“Maybe I am a wizard too. In this particular case. Why not?”
He’s a banker. And I’m a simple waitress. He has hotels and bars. I have a sick sister and a hateful stepfather. Between us, there can’t be any relationship. I told him that when he offered to make me his mistress.
But right now, Igor Beletsky is the only one I can ask for help.