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a leather binder. Maybe he had a gambling problem. “Double or nothing it is.” I agreed before he had a chance to come to his senses.
    As I chopped off another piece, Boris got up and stood by the bucket to get a better view. I held the chunk up like before, aimed, and tossed a perfect shot. Just as it was about to float in, he batted it down to the floor.
    “Hey, no fair.”
    Boris cocked his head. “Of course it’s fair. Fan interference. You didn’t make the shot. I win.” He held out his hand. “Double or nothing means I get your phone for one minute.”
    “Whatever, cheater. If you want to snoop on my phone that bad I’ll give it to you, even though we both know you played dirty.” I turned my back, lifted my phone out of my sports bra, and slapped it in the palm of his hand. “Go.” I counted out loud as Boris scanned my texts, taking in as much data as he could in the allotted time.
    I peeked down to see what my friends were saying that had him so enthralled in our conversation, but he turned to block my view. “Fifty-nine, sixty.” I snatched my phone back and scanned my texts in search of anything embarrassing. Nothing too bad, just some post-victory tennis texts, a few flirty texts from Ryan—he loved to tease me—and an urgent reminder from Kiki I needed to secure a date for the ballet the following Friday. I slipped my phone back in my pocket and finished chopping up dinner. My mouth needed an off switch.
    “Your boyfriend calls you Cookie ?”
    I ignored him and sautéed the veggies in a skillet to soften them up before I added the broth. After an eternity of awkwardness he said, “Never make a bet you’re not willing to lose.”
    Screw you, cheater. “I’ll remember that.” Preparing all the delicious food made my stomach growl. If I served dinner at eight, I wouldn’t get home until, like, nine. I rifled through my tennis bag to scrounge up some emergency food rations. I found a cup of peanut butter and a bounty of Almond Joys my little sister had rejected from her Halloween candy stash. I unwrapped one of the candy bars, dunked it in the cup, and scooped a heaping helping of peanut butter into my mouth. Kiki had advised me it was gross to tool around with a wad of peanut butter in my mouth, but so what? It wasn’t like I was going to make out with anyone.
    I jogged downstairs to retrieve some vino from the wine cellar, which was the size of the entire second story of Dad’s house. I found a bottle that likely cost more than my tuition and trotted back upstairs. I rounded up the poodles and put them in their crates in case Vladimir wasn’t in a good mood.
    I headed to the guest bedroom to shower. Once I was clean, I was about to help myself to the liquor cabinet to settle my nerves, when I heard the garage door open. I’d tried to conceal the red mark on my face with powder, but there was no way to cover it up. He would notice right away, and I didn’t want to see him angry again. Over what I wasn’t sure, but Boris had flipped out over it. Maybe Vladimir would react the same way.
    Vladimir breezed through the door. “What’s that delicious smell, Carter? Don’t tell me you went to any trouble for me?” He hung up his coat, slipped on a pair of house shoes, and set down his briefcase in the mudroom next to the garage door.
    “Oh, it’s just a lentil stew.”
    He walked up to me, planted his hands on my shoulders, and kissed my cheeks. “I apologize for my late dinner time—demands of my job. You must be starved.”
    I fluttered my eyes like a love-struck idiot; the kisses caught me off guard. Is that the usual greeting in Russia? Does everyone get the special treatment? “Oh, no. Don’t worry about me,” I stammered. “I’ll eat later.”
    Vladimir lowered his hands and pushed open the swinging door to see the table set for one. His eyes sharpened. “You don’t expect me to eat alone, do you?” He held the door open and ushered me to the formal dining room.
    Boris