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“Oh, wow. So he’s known your family since before you were born?”
“Long before,” Nikolai confirms. “My father hired him straight from the army, and he’s been with our family ever since.”
“Lyudmila too?”
“No, they’ve only been married for about ten years.” He laughs. “Alina just about had a fit when he first introduced Lyudmila to us. I think my sister was under the impression that Pavel was her exclusive property.”
My eyes widen. “She had a crush on him?”
“Not precisely, no. I think she thought of him more as a second father.” His smile fades, and something bleak flickers in his eyes before his lips take on their usual darkly sensual curve—that cynical, seductive smile that, I’m now realizing, hides his true emotions. Leaning closer to the camera, he says softly, “Enough about them. Tell me about your day, zaychik. What did you and Slava do while I’ve been gone?”
Right, that’s why he’s calling: to get a report on his son. Concealing an irrational pang of disappointment, I put on my tutor hat and fill him in on our activities and the progress Slava’s making. He listens attentively, interrupting occasionally to ask follow-up questions, and as our conversation continues, I realize I have to revise yet another negative opinion I had of him.
Nikolai does care about his son. A lot.
I caught a glimpse of it this morning, when Slava and I lay there on the bed, and I see it now in the way his face softens when I talk about the boy. I don’t know why he refuses to protect his son from such obvious dangers as a sharp knife, but it’s not because he doesn’t love him. He does—though judging by the way he is around Slava, I wouldn’t be surprised if he has trouble admitting it.
I think Nikolai wants to be closer to his son but doesn’t know how.
I think… he may be a good man, after all.
Alina’s warning intrudes on my mind again, but I push it away. She was high, and there’s clearly tension between brother and sister, some kind of history I’m not privy to. Besides, I don’t know what she thinks is happening between me and Nikolai, but love is nowhere on the table. Sex, maybe—I’m realistic enough to admit that my determination not to sleep with my boss is proving to be no match for the powerful attraction between us—but love is a whole other game. I’d be an idiot to fall in love with a man like Nikolai, who’s undoubtedly used to the most beautiful women in the world throwing themselves at him. If we slept together, it wouldn’t mean anything to him—and I can’t let it mean anything to me.
Better yet, we shouldn’t sleep together.
That way, nobody gets hurt.
We talk about Slava for another twenty minutes before the late hour catches up with me and a yawn overtakes me in the middle of a sentence. I stifle it right away, but Nikolai isn’t fooled.
“You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” he murmurs, eyeing me with concern. “You should’ve said something, zaychik. I didn’t mean to keep you up.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just…” Another uncontrollable yawn interrupts my words, and I cover it with the back of my hand before giving him a rueful smile. “Okay, yes, it’s sleepy time for me. How are you so awake? You must be jet-lagged on top of everything.”
The green flecks in his eyes gleam brighter. “I don’t need much sleep.”
Of course he doesn’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was part superhuman—that would explain those extraordinary good looks he shares with his sister.
“Well, goodnight anyway,” I say, fighting another yawn. “And good luck with whatever business you have there.”
“Thank you, zaychik.” His smile holds a tender note. “Sleep well. I’ll call you tomorrow evening.”
He hangs up, and as I put away the laptop, I’m cognizant of my heart beating in a new, uneven rhythm, my chest filled with a warmth I don’t dare examine.
33
Nikolai
I close my eyes after we disconnect, trying to hang on to the unaccustomed feeling of well-being talking to Chloe has generated, but it’s fading fast. In its place is grim awareness of what I must do today, mixed with dark anticipation.
It’s been six months since I’ve been in this world. Six months since I’ve let myself get involved in our business on any level beyond the most superficial. And while I’d like to say that I hate being back, I can’t deny that a part of me revels in it all… that my blood is pumping faster through my veins.
Opening my eyes, I close the laptop and rise to my feet.
Time to get to work.
* * *
Pavel is already waiting in the hotel lobby, and we walk out together. Our destination is a small tavern a few blocks away, or more specifically, its basement.
The sight that greets us when we descend isn’t pretty. A man is hanging by his wrists from a chain bolted into the ceiling, the toes of his booted feet just barely scraping the bare concrete floor. His pale face is bruised and swollen, the area under his off-center nose crusted with dark blood. Two of Valery’s men stand next to him, their faces hard and eyes emotionless.
