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Ruslan’s so focused on Ben that I’m sure he misses the subtle flash popping off at regular intervals. I glance in the direction of the flash and catch a shadowy figure darting behind one of the cars on the opposite side of the street. I know that figure.
Remmy.
Ben, of course, chooses this moment to try his hand at being an alpha. “L-listen, buddy: I’m theirdad.This is none of your business.”
“I’mmakingit my business,yebanyy mudak.” He advances towards Ben, who backs into the bricks and shrinks.
I rush to Ruslan’s side. “Ruslan,” I whisper, “Remmy’s here.Across the street.”
His hands stay curled into tight fists, though. He continues to glare at Ben as though he didn’t hear a word I just said.
Ben tries to remain unbothered but the red spots forming across his cheeks are betraying him. “L-listen—”
“No,youlisten.” He takes another step forward and I genuinely believe he’s going to beat the shit out of Ben. “You come within five miles of those kids and I will make your life a living hell. Do you understand?”
Back down, Ben. For the love of God, back down!
“Fine,” Ben snaps. “I don’t need this shit.”
He storms off towards his car—the same one Ruslan fixed—climbs in and drives off. When he’s gone, Ruslan turns to me. “Remmy?” he mutters, moving closer to my side and looping a strong arm around my shoulders.
I look over at the car Remmy was hiding behind, but he’s nowhere to be seen. “He’s gone…”
“Good fucking riddance.” He pulls me in close and presses a tender kiss to the soft space behind my ear. “Are you okay?”
“Sure,” I lie. “Yeah. Of course.”
But the truth is, I’m rattled.
Ben and Remmy in one night—it’s too much. Why can’t things just be good? Then I catch a whiff of Ruslan’s oaky scent and that sense of calm settles right back over me. It’s getting to be familiar now. I’m coming to rely on it—which is dangerous in its own right, but we’re long past the point of no return.
Ruslan steers me towards the apartment. “Let’s go up to the kids.”
From his lips, nothing has ever sounded sweeter.
59
RUSLAN
“I’m hearing lots of strange rumors,moy syn.”
It’s rare for Fyodor to start a conversation. It’s even rarer to see him outside of the comfort of his gardens. He’s come to abhor the inner city—probably because he remembers a time when he was happy in it.
I push the pastry basket towards him. “You don’t usually pay much attention to rumors, Otets.”
His gaze veers to the stunning view of Manhattan but he might as well be staring at a blank canvas for all the interest he’s showing.
“I do when they involve my son.”
I pick at my Spanish omelet, trying not to think about what Emma and the kids are up to this Sunday morning. She’d told me she was planning on taking them to the aquarium but so far, I haven’t gotten any pictures.
“What have you heard?”
“That you’re sleeping with your secretary.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Are you going to call me unoriginal?”
Fyodor’s mouth turns up slightly. He almost looks animated for a change. “So it’s true?”
