Page 38 of The Client
“You’re a model? How…interesting,” Mom is saying.
My hand freezes on Izabela’s thigh.
“We don’t need to talk about that,” I say, suddenly desperate to change the subject.
Mom sets her fork down and catches my eye across the table. “You know I never thought you were going to end up with—”
“There’s no need to discuss her,” I interrupt gently but firmly.
“I wasn’t going to. I’m just so pleased to see you happy, is what I was going to say.”
Izabela sits completely still, listening, absorbing. I lean over and kiss her temple.
“I am happy, thank you. Izabela is an amazing woman. Ambitious. Accomplished. Beautiful, obviously, but I’m much more impressed by her…work ethic,” I say, giving her thigh another firm, suggestive squeeze.
“And handy in the kitchen, too,” Mom adds.
The praise has Izabela ducking her head shyly, but I notice that it doesn’t seem to help her relax. I’ve never outright complimented her before. Maybe she’s suspicious of me.
The meal concludes and Izabela helps clean up. She smiles and chats with my mom, but I can tell by her body language that she’s still wary. I join the women in the kitchen and help with the dishes, then I make Izabela a decaf coffee to go with the cheesecake she barely picks at.
She and my mother talk about the Polish countryside and Izabela’s most recent trip to Ukraine to visit relatives. The more they laugh and engage, the more uneasy I get. Because the next six months will go by fast, and when they’re over, Izabela will be passed on to another man. She won’t belong to me anymore, and I don’t want my mother to be disappointed. She never responded to Celine the way she has to Izabela. Never asked about Celine’s past or welcomed her into the kitchen. If I’m not careful, my mother is going to get attached.
And dammit, so might I.
14
IZABELA
Rhys’s mother liked me.Really liked me. I could tell.
I can’t keep the smile from my face as we bid her goodbye and get into the back of the car. I feel a little sorry for our driver, who has been waiting for us this whole time. He must have been bored out of his mind. I should have brought him a slice of cheesecake to pass the time.
Rhys has been oddly quiet since dessert. I hope he’s not upset with me. I behaved perfectly, I’m sure of it. Does he think I crossed a line? He must not understand how important it was for me to be helpful to his mother.
The thing is, I wasn’t raised to just stand by and let my host do all the work. Where I’m from, everybody pitches in whenever they can, even if they’re guests—the men, too. It’s old fashioned, I suppose, but it really gives a sense of community and togetherness…the kind that I haven’t felt since moving to America. Tonight, helping Delia McConnell with a delicious meal helped me feel connected. It reminded me of home, and I dearly needed that.
“Dinner was wonderful,” I tell Rhys.
“Glad you enjoyed it.”
“Your mother is wonderful, too. Thank you for inviting me.”
“You played your part well,” he says coolly.
Instantly, I deflate. Of course this entire evening was all an act. I can’t believe I let myself get so caught up in the charade.
I look out the window so Rhys won’t see the hurt on my face, but I can tell he’s brooding beside me as he scrolls on his phone. His whole demeanor is cold and rigid. My mood sours.
What if I really did overstep with his mother? Americans are so different. I’m still learning what’s appropriate and what’s not.
But he was so tender and attentive to me during dinner. Pulling out my chair, getting me drinks. And all the compliments! He was so completely unlike the man I’ve come to know over the last week. Kinder, softer, more patient. More…human. His mother seemed smitten with the two of us. And I have to admit, I was smitten with him. What a game Rhys McConnell plays. Of course tonight was all a lie. Nothing more than an act for his mother’s benefit.
Because of course he’d want his mother to think we’re in love and not that he bought me to keep as a toy for six months. What mother would be approving of something like that? Rhys was warm and loving toward her and it’s obvious they are very close. He wouldn’t want to disappoint her.
Still, I’m bothered by his behavior. And I don’t want to sit here second-guessing myself for the entire thirty-minute drive back to Rhys’s place.
Looking back at him, I straighten my spine and ask, “Have I done something wrong?”
