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“Can we talk about something else before I have an anxiety attack?” I ask, grateful for my gloves, which make it impossible to gnaw on my fingernails.
“How are you and Ilya?” Anya asks playfully, picking a subject she knows is safe.
“We’re good,” I say, a smile tugging at my lips when I think about our most recent night together. “Physically, things are better than ever. Which I don’t understand how that’s even possible. But there you have it.”
“Anything new to report?”
Is it me, or does she look hopeful? Like she’s expecting something more from me?I shake my head as my lips twist in concern. I glance at the top of Clara’s head before choosing my words carefully.
“He’s been under a lot of pressure at work lately and stressed about some growing tension in the clan.” His Bratva has been facing increasingly violent attacks by someone–from what it sounds like, Ilya thinks it’s a new Bratva invading their territory–and they’ve been unable to smoke the culprits out. “He’s been working an insane number of hours lately, but no matter how much he works and how hard he tries, he’s not making any headway.”
Anya knows a good deal more about what Ilya does now that she and Nico are in a committed relationship and he’s being open with her about his own family business. But still, we try to keep it vague for Clara’s sake.
Twisting her lips into a sympathetic frown, Anya meets my gaze. “I’m sorry. I know that must be hard on you both. I bet he really appreciates your company right about now, to take his mind off of things and remind him about the good things in his life.”
I shrug it off, grateful for the hot chocolate stand worker, who greets us happily, cutting our conversation short.
“What can I get you ladies today?” he asks, peering over the top of his stand to look at Clara.
“Three hot chocolates please,” Anya orders. “Would you mind putting a splash of cold milk in one so somebody doesn’t burn her tongue?” She places her hand on Clara’s head.
“No problem.” He smiles and gets to work filling the order as we dig in our pockets for our cards.
But Anya’s last comment has my mind whirring as the same nagging anxiety that’s been building inside me flares to life. Because along with my lack of dancing prospects, I’m also aware of how the end of this semester could mark the end of my time with Ilya. I haven’t mentioned this to Anya. The thought bothers me more than I would like to admit, and I’m trying not to think about it too much, hoping it will go away if I ignore it.
Ilya hasn’t said a word about it. He’s probably too distracted with the growing troubles his Bratva is having. He’s got bigger things on his mind than the deadline of our contract, but I wonder what’s going to happen when it expires.
Will that just be the end of it?Maybe that’s been his plan all along. You don’t have to break up with a girl if you aren’t actually together. And freelance employees don’t have to be let go. You simply don’t renew the contract when their services are no longer required. It leaves a heavy rock in the pit of my stomach to think that Ilya might not even consider the end of our contract worthy of a discussion.
But I’ve been too scared to bring it up. Not only does it feel incredibly selfish when I can see it in Ilya’s face that the stress is running him ragged, but I can’t help the feeling that he might take it as a sign that I’m getting too attached and choose to call it quits before the contract is technically done.
Fuck, maybe I am in too deep. Not that I’m in love. That shit will only lead me down the path of destruction. But the thought of Ilya moving on, of finding his next toy and leaving me without his company, makes me sick to my stomach. He’s one of the few people I feel I can fully be myself around. And god if he’s not the sexiest man alive.
“Thank you,” we chorus as the money transfers hands and our three steaming to-go mugs of chocolatey goodness come our way.
“But you two are happy?” Anya presses as we start walking once more. “It’s just, the last few times I’ve asked, you almost seem… sad.”
My gut twists painfully as she hits too close to home. Sirens blare,Divert! Divert!in my head. “So good,” I promise before quickly countering with, “but what about you and Nico. Any wedding bells in the near future?”
Anya blushes and presses her drink to her lips to give herself a moment. “We’re taking our time,” she says, her eyes glancing down to Clara meaningfully. “We’ve talked about it though. Maybe after graduation or something.”
“I better be your maid of honor,” I tease.
Anya laughs brightly. “I wouldn’t dream of anyone else,” she assures me. “But first things first.”
“I know. I know.” I flash my hand, indicating she needs a ring before she can officially bequeath me the title.
The humor helps alleviate the tension in my chest, but I know that as soon as I’m alone tonight, I’ll be stuck with the same turmoil within as I struggle to see my way through an ocean of uncertainty about my future. I feel as though I can barely keep my head above water, and I’m starting to feel beyond fatigued from the constant need to stay afloatjust a little longer.
26
ILYA
“What happened?” I demand, automatically dropping into my native tongue as I stride into my office. I’m curt after having cut a business meeting short because Fyodor said it was urgent.
My captain looks sullen, his full beard doing little to mask the bitter anger looming in his eyes or the drawn expression on his face. He wouldn’t normally insist on speaking with me immediately, much less request my presence when he knows I was in the middle of important negotiations, but I know we must have sustained another attack just from the sound of his voice on the phone.
Simeon and Misha, two of his men, look more pale and shaken than angry, like their captain, which further unsettles me. They stand to the side, their shoulders tense, their bodies rigid as they remain silent.
