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This time, I get a whole smile. “My relationship with my mother isn’t your business, but that is?”
I flush, but don’t backtrack. Truthfully, it’s a question I’m way more interested in the answer to.
“There are a lot of factors,” Nick finally says. “My father was supposed to be in control for much longer than he was. My older brother was going to be the nextPakhan, not me. I was never expected to inherit this position and definitely not when I was eighteen. After my father and brothers were murdered, it was chaotic for a while. Rival families jostling for power. Internal unrest. Whispers about whether I was up to the job. Getting married is a political move. The most powerful tie besides blood. Making a hasty decision will do more harm than good.”
I tilt my head, considering. “It sounds like you’re stalling.”
“I am,” Nick replies. “Once I agree to an arrangement, I lose leverage. Not to mention, Pavel’s problems will become mine.”
“Who is Pavel?”
I catch a slight grimace that makes me think the name was a slip. “He’s thePakhanof another family.”
“And…he has a daughter for you to marry?”
Nick takes a sip of his drink before answering. “Yes. I was hoping to resolve things with Dmitriy first, on my own. That’s delayed things, but I was close to accepting his offer. Until…”
“Until Alex called you,” I realize.
“Right.” Another sip.
I’m not sure how to feel. Relieved? Remorseful? Jealous?
Annoyingly, the last emotion is the strongest.
“How old is she?”
Nick looks amused, but he doesn’t call me out on my focused line of questioning. “Nineteen.”
“Just a little older than Leo then.”
He laughs, and I hate how much I love the sound. It’s rich and deep. Uninhibited and genuine.
“I’m just saying, she’s ateenager. Makes me feel like an old spinster.”
“Old spinsters don’t suck cock the way you do.” He says it so seriously, so matter-of-fact, that it takes a few seconds for the words to sink in.
I feel myself flush, hoping he can’t tell.
As what normally happens when I’m caught off guard, I blurt the first thing that pops into my head. “I haven’t had much practice recently.” Silence. “Um, you know, aside from last night,” I add in an attempt to make it less awkward, but it has the opposite effect, making it even more so.
I focus on Nick’s hand instead of his face. It’s clenched tight around his glass. The color has fled from his knuckles, leaving pale skin behind.
Because he’s uncomfortable? I doubt it.
Because the thought of me with someone else bothers him? I’m not sure that’s plausible either.
I’m sure he’s hadlotsof practice in the past nine years.
He didn’t go through pregnancy and childbirth alone. Didn’t spend sleepless nights staying up with a screaming infant. Didn’t work late into the night, juggling two jobs.
None of that was conducive to dating.
Neither was living with a permanent reminder of him. I never let a single guy I dated meet Leo.
I told myself I would only do that when it felt right, when I saw a future. I would rather have Leo grow up without a father or any father figure, like I did, than have him see his mother run through a rotating door of men, the way I also did.
Not that there was ever a rotating door. More like a dead bolt that rarely opened.
