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I don’t know if I should be touched or appalled by that fact.
“How about your parents?” I whisper. “They must miss you.”
“They understand. Dad encouraged this plan.”
“Hewhat?”
Creighton lifts his glass in the form of acheers. “Best Dad of the Year Award goes to Aiden King.”
“Wow. I thought he might be unhinged from the time we talked, but now I’m sure.”
One of his brows rises. “You talked?”
“More like he threatened me, but Papa threatened him, too, almost killed him, actually, so I pretended to faint and Papa had no choice but to take me back. He totally didn’t believe my performance, though.” I sigh. “I’m afraid some sort of a world war will happen if they meet again.”
“Which is one more reason not to go back.”
“Then we’d just be running.”
“So what?”
I release a frustrated breath. “We can’t just do that, Creighton. We have a life back at home. People waiting for us. People who love us.”
He eats in silence and I think he’s dismissed me, which is his modus operandi whenever he wants to change the subject.
I eat, too, feeling my heart shriveling up and dying inside my chest.
He really won’t look past the grudge. It’s already shaped who he is, and the more I try to make him get rid of it, the harder he holds on to it.
“What’s his name?” The question he asks in a low tone catches me off guard.
“Who?”
“The man in black who’s by your side all the time, looks twice your age, and whom you smile at. Constantly.”
I frown. “Yan?”
Full-blown calculation covers his features. “Yan. Russian, I assume?”
“Yeah, didn’t I mention him before? We’re so close and he's a badass. A former member of the elite Russian Special Forces, ranked among the first, and one of the most merciless assassins in the Bratva.”
“We will see how strong he is when I pummel him to death.”
My lips part as the realization dawns on me and I burst out laughing.
He’s jealous of him.
Creighton is jealous of Yan.
A dark look shutters in his unique ocean eyes. “What are you laughing at?”
“I’m sorry, but this is just too funny,” I say, still fighting the remnants of my laughter. “Yan is Papa’s second-in-command.”
“And? Why is that information funny? If anything, it makes me hate your father even more for bringing this Yan into your life.”
“My Tchaikovsky, are you for real?”
“I told you to quit worshiping that dead man.”
