Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Alexei
I had assumed she wouldn’t show.
Did she really think I would tell her boyfriend what had happened?
Because that couldn’t possibly be the reason for her strutting in here like an avenging goddess, looking like she had murder on her mind?
She could have easily ignored my request, called my bluff, and known that she would be insulated from harm.
I would never hurt her. Again.
Yet here she was, and there could be only two reasons:
One, she thought I would follow through on my empty threat to tell her boyfriend she had married another man and had been married to that man the whole time she was with her new beau.
Or two, she really needed my introduction to Arkady Volkov. Concerning, as it might mean her business was not doing so well.
There was also a third option: she wanted to be here.
After all, we had a good time in Las Vegas, lubricated by alcohol and common interests and a wave of nostalgia over our college experience.
But she was mistaken in thinking I was using her as a straight-shot route to a ready-made relationship.
Women were easy to come by, and any woman would be happy to be involved with me.
How could I tell her that this marriage was a long time coming, the culmination of many years fighting my way back to her?
She would not believe that, so I would have to play my cards close to my chest. I was used to keeping secrets, and while it might be immediately beneficial to share my respect and admiration for her, she was a skeptic. I needed to chip away at her defenses.
“May I tell you something?”
“If it sheds any light on what’s happening inside that cobweb-ridden brain of yours, by all means.”
“I would never have told your boyfriend about us.”
One eyebrow scooted up to meet her hairline. “Yet this is not what you said to convince me to attend this meeting. Notice I’m not calling it a date. I’m not a cheater.”
Lauren was always straight as an arrow, moral to her core, given her father’s criminal past. It was a point of pride for her to exhibit well-intentioned behavior.
“You are merely meeting an old friend, who can help with your client roster and to whom you happen to be tied in a legal sense.” I lifted my water to my lips.
“I hinted that I would tell him because I thought you might need the threat to feel better about meeting me. I think we both knew I would not interfere in your relationship like this. But you let the mere whisper of me snitching to Brad guide you to this table. Because you are … curious.”
A flash of fury crossed her expression before she schooled it to a neutrality worthy of Switzerland.
“So you’re saying that I needed the threat to give myself permission to walk into this restaurant and sit across from you while you act like there’s something between us.”
“There is something between us. There always has been.”
She shook her head. “So you wouldn’t have told him. Let’s pretend I knew that—deep down—but I was willing to lie to myself so I could get a free dinner out of it. You’re paying, by the way.”
“Of course. Does Chad pay for dinner?”
Storm clouds skittered in her silver eyes. I assumed that meant no. She drained her martini and I raised a hand for the server.
Once the order was in, I turned back to her. “How did you meet him?”
She gave me a look of, oh, we’re doing this? I didn’t really want to hear about their origin story, but all data was useful in my mission.
She sat up a little straighter, like she was steeling herself to answer questions at a Congressional hearing.
“On a dating app called Eros. Landon Kershaw created it.”
“Theo’s kid, Conor’s twin?”
“That’s right. Brains to burn. It had a lot of surveys about interests, personality traits, personal history. Then it runs some sort of algo-voodoo and hey presto, you have a match. No photos to make it less superficial.”
“How many people did you meet before the magic happened?”
“Three, but once I met Thad, I could tell he was the one. He’s normal, for a start. No ego. Kindhearted, not trying to one-up me all the time.”
“Sounds like you have been dating the wrong people.”
She shrugged. “I had been looking for a certain type, the opposite of my father, and it led me down some strange paths. Poets, volleyball players, agents—God, that was a disaster. Basically, anyone who didn’t seem like a Wall Street huckster.”
“So Vlad is one of these unicorns?”
The slightest lip twitch told me she was amused.
“I realized I was focusing on the wrong thing. Not every guy in a suit or who works in finance is going to be a loser. If I’m going to be tarring a group of people with the same brush, I need to be generalizing about athletes.
The true enemy.” She grinned. My pulse jumped, and I was taken back to that first time I saw her on that rink.
“I realized I needed to be more open to the possibilities and not eliminate an entire subset of men because they happened to understand how the stock market works.”
“So he is a finance person. Like your father.”
She gave me a pained smile. “Not like my father. Hashtag ‘not all finance bros.’ He’s what I needed to get out from under that misapprehension. Landon’s app asked interesting questions and we had an eighty percent match. Thad met most of my requirements.”
A job interview to be her boyfriend. I wondered if I would pass based on questions alone.
“You do not believe in chemistry?”
“No, I don’t. Chemistry masks the reality of what people are truly like.”
I pitied her if she truly believed that. “We had chemistry.”
“Did we?” Said with a saccharine sweetness.
“I thought so. And you obviously agreed because you said yes to marriage.”
My silver-eyed she-wolf growled. “I did not say yes because I was never asked! Marriage under the influence doesn’t count, Alexei.
My lawyer says that drunkenness is the same as fraud when it comes to getting hitched and is a perfectly valid reason to get an annulment, especially as we didn’t consummate it. ”
“Consummate? What is that?”
“Sex, Nazarov. We didn’t have sex!”
A few people looked over, but Lauren didn’t notice. Her fury was its own forcefield.
“Well, we did. Years ago.”
“Yes, amazing. Against a wall in an alley behind a college bar. A fast fuck with the rats and dumpsters looking on. Five stars, would recommend.”
Was that really how she remembered it? Perhaps I had romanticized it, but she was right. She deserved better.
“I made up for it later.”
Color appeared high on her cheekbones. She was remembering some of our greatest hits between the sheets.
“The point I’m trying to make is that there’s nothing tying us together. All you have to do is sign the application for annulment or divorce or whatever works quickest, and we can get back to our normal lives.”
Yes, normal. For years it was what I craved. Not having to worry about my father’s safety in Russia, whether I was being followed, whether anyone I cared about was in danger. Of course the easiest way to ensure the safety of others was to not get too close. It was the only option back then.
But things were different now. My father was no longer a target for the Russian authorities.
I was no longer guilty by association. These days, we had different problems, but they were human ones rather than political.
Should I tell her the why? Would it endear her to me, knowing that all those years ago I pushed her away to protect her from forces outside my control?
While I weighed this, our food arrived. I was on season’s rations, even in the summer, so I had chosen the sea bass. Lauren’s steak and mashed potatoes looked enviable.
“Another martini?”
“Two’s my limit, though …” She held her fork up to the server. “How’s the alley situation here?”
“The … alley situation?”
“Yeah, a lot of dumpsters? Sheltered from the street? Would a third martini help, do you think?”
The terrified server looked to me for guidance. Tonight, I would be tipping very well.
“Ignore her. She needs to eat.”
“Okay, sir. Let me know if you need anything else.” At which point he scurried off, likely praying to the customer service gods that we would never bother him again.
“I did not need to get you drunk to go down on you, Lauren.”
She blushed deeply. “Years after our alley adventure and that’s what you remember?”
“Your taste has stayed with me. I have never forgotten it.”
“This is highly inappropriate. I’m dating someone.”
Yet she had brought up the alley. Twice. “But you are married to me. I think that and our past connection gives me a little leeway.”
“Sure, tell me how I tasted, Ass-arov.”
Did she think I would not regale her with the details? This wife did not know her husband so well.
“Like peach nectar with a tang of—”
She pointed the steak knife at me. “Just eat.”
“Instead of talking about eating your—”
“Alexei!” She burst out laughing. “Still impossible.”
It was the first indication that she wasn’t as annoyed with me as she pretended.
“I will eat my boring sea bass while you taunt me with your steak and tell me all about your job.”
She sliced into the steak and added a little mashed potato topper, a fluffy cloud on her medallion of succulent beef.
“My job is amazing. After retiring from the game, I wondered if I’d ever feel that sense of accomplishment again. That sizzle when you’re this close to victory.”
“You enjoy it that much?”
“I do. Of course, it can be tricky. There’s a lot of competition for talent. Also, we’re talking about young clients with immature prefrontal cortexes, idiots who often make poor decisions off the ice and who need a lot of handholding. I’m mother hen, priest, fixer, best friend, and chief asshole.”
She had been a great leader of her team, both in college and the pros, a captain in all ways. This job was a good match for her strengths and personality.
“It was tough to leave hockey, yes?”
She blinked quickly, an acknowledgment of the pain.
“It was. You think you’re invincible, that you can play through anything, but your body fails you in the end.
Agenting isn’t the perfect substitute, but it’s close.
I’m still in this world, even if it’s not how I imagined it. I thought I’d play forever.”
We all did. “Accepting that life must transition to the next phase is tough for us all, especially when we define ourselves by the game. It gives us so much, but it is a cruel mistress when we don’t meet its exacting standards.”
She shook her head. “Why do you make everything sound like a nineteenth century Russian novel?”
“Because we Russians understand tragedy and change like no one else.” I reached over to her plate with my fork. “Are the mashed potatoes fluffy?”
“No, they taste terrible.”
“I do not trust you.”
“Right back at ya, Nazarov.”
Passing over her snark, I took a scoop and put them in my mouth. Fluffy, just as I suspected.
“Tell me about Volkov,” she said. “How do you know him?”
“We ancient players are always looking over our shoulders, checking on the little pricks itching to replace us.”
“Smart.”
“Arkady was on my radar for a year or so. Popping up in my feed with all his cute little trick shots.”
“In between your dance videos and BTS clips.”
I chuckled. “You are the dancer. I see that you have kept it up.”
“Good exercise.”
“I can think of better.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Volkov?”
“He has a difficult relationship with his father, but he is also spreading his wings. He needs a strong, yet encouraging hand. Not a martinet. I think a more personal relationship would be good for him. Something not so corporate.”
She finished chewing. “If we hadn’t fallen into this situation, would you have thought of me as a potential agent for him?”
I am always thinking of you. “Of course. You have a good reputation, but more than that, you have been in the trenches. You know what it is like to be a superstar in your field. All those high expectations from an early age. I did not receive the same attention as you did when you started out. The kind of attention Arkady is receiving now. I think you would have much to teach him.”
She looked surprised. She need not. I recognized how good she was—a leader, a listener, a lover of hockey and the people who played it.
“But to get to him, I have to spend time with you.”
I leaned back. “Is it so terrible?”
“It doesn’t make sense. It can’t go anywhere. I have a life that doesn’t include you, Alexei. A life I’m trying to start and you—” She waved a hand. “Are my past.”
As much as that saddened me, I understood. I had hurt her. She had spent years creating a callus over her heart. I was trying to shave it off while she frantically searched for bandages.
Yet, I still had the capacity to affect her. This gave me hope.
“I will call him tomorrow and give him your number.”
But I did not promise to leave her alone. I wasn’t sure I had it in me.