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appeared by the table, set down another place setting, and pulled a chair out for me. Before I sat, I whispered to Boris. “I can’t stay too late. I have to be home by ten o’clock.”
    “You are grown woman and have curfew?”
    “It’s not a curfew , more like a respect thing. Dad worries about me.”
    “You’ll be home by curfew.”
    Vladimir joined me at the table and set down the bread and dipping oil between us. “You got in a fight with your boyfriend?”
    Oh, shit. Apparently all Russian men think a bruise on a woman can only come from abuse. Suddenly, I worried this might twist back on Coach in some bad way. There were some serious cultural miscommunications going on. “No fight. No boyfriend, either, just a little competitive action on the court.” I dipped my bread in the olive oil, like, a hundred times.
    He gave me all of his attention. “You won your match today?”
    My belly quivered. “Mm-hm.”
    He nodded his approval like my win was a positive reflection on him.
    I bit my lip, unnerved he wouldn’t stop staring at me. “Oh, and thanks for the new tennis shoes. Pink is my favorite color.”
    “My pleasure. Tell me about your game.”
    “It was awesome. My partner and I took over the net and won the first set, but in the second set, our opponents killed us with lobs and dominated two to six.”
    “How did you manage your comeback?”
    “When you’re losing, you have to change your strategy. Rakhi and I never do this, but we switched sides for the super tiebreaker. I played the deuce side, and she moved to ad. It messed with their minds. We won ten to two. Want to know the best part?”
    “Isn’t winning the best part?”
    “No. The girls we played today creamed us in two straight sets earlier in the season.” I leaned forward like I was about to reveal the secrets of the universe. “The payback is the best part.” I slapped my hand on the table, which caused the wine to ripple in the decanter. “Sorry, I get carried away when it comes to competition.”
    “Don’t apologize. I adore your passion.” He locked his gaze on mine. “At what point in the match did your opponent hit you?” He brushed his finger across his cheek.
    Boris appeared from around the corner and riffled through the china cabinet.
    “It happened during warm-ups.”
    “Your teammate hit you then?”
    Boris stalked behind Vladimir’s back like the Big Bad Wolf peeking around a tree.
    “Ummm, we had to win this match today to keep our playoff hopes alive so Coach fed us some tough shots to keep us on our toes and I was out of position. I should have backed up so he treated it like a match situation and fired the ball at me—”
    Vladimir inhaled sharply.
    “Not to hurt me or anything. Just to teach me a lesson.”
    He blinked his cool blue eyes and tapped his fingers. He looked angry enough to snap the table in half with his bare hands.
    “No, no, bad choice of words. I’m sorry—”
    Boris held up his hand to shut me up and spoke to the boss in Russian, presumably to calm him down. Whatever he said kicked his intensity level down a notch.
    “Interesting technique Coach uses to train his girls.” He lifted his glass to initiate a toast.
    “Oh, I can’t. I mean I don’t imbibe on school nights.”
    “Just a drink to be social. Za tebya .” Vladimir’s glass hung in the air.
    I didn’t want to insult him, plus I seriously needed to relax. I lifted my glass and clinked. “ Za tebya .”
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 9
     
     
    Marble Slab
                 
    On Friday, I had officially survived my first week as Vladimir’s employee. My attempt to mimic the artistry of a chef was as laughable as me trying to return a serve from Serena Williams. After our first meal together, Vladimir told me to forget the recipe books and make what I liked to eat.
    We had moved from eating botched fancy meals in the formal dining room to having a variety of appetizers and cocktails around the