Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lauren
“Hi, Riley, it’s Lauren again. I know it’s a little late, but I’d love to discuss your very bright future and all the ways I can support it.”
I clicked off the call. Was she hoping I’d give up so she didn’t have to tell me no? I’d rather hear it directly from her than be left guessing as to her true intentions.
I opened the reports Summer had compiled, marveling at her ability to piece it all together.
Promoting her to agent had been a good call.
That perky blonde thing she had going on was a weapon in itself.
No one would see her coming. I couldn’t risk losing her and her valuable skill set to anyone else, but if things didn’t pick up soon …
“You should have better security here.”
I jumped at the sound of Alexei’s voice. He leaned against the doorjamb, so casual, as if he hadn’t stood me up for the date—no, meeting—he had insisted upon.
“You’re two hours late.”
“I had an errand to attend to.”
Something about his tone struck me. “Is everything okay?”
“It is fine.”
No further explanation seemed to be forthcoming, which was typical of Nazarov, who never told me a damn thing. I was still that stupid girl in college, waiting to be blessed with his attention.
“Would have loved a text, but communication was never your strong point.”
I closed my laptop, realizing now that I had waited here instead of going home. And for what? To get the runaround? I could take that from clients, but I wouldn’t stand for it from … whatever the hell this was.
“I am sorry. I should have called you, but something came up. And then I arrive and I have no problems getting into your office where you are working alone, late at night. This is unacceptable, Lauren.”
“Unacceptable? Oh my God, Alexei, could you quit it with the patriarchal shit? I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” I put my purse on the desk and withdrew my pepper spray.
“See? And I also have numerous weapons including Gunnar’s stick from his first Cup victory and a puck from back when I was a winner and didn’t put up with assholes like you. ”
He picked up my brother-in-law’s stick. “This will probably break with the rot if you use it.”
I snatched it back from him. “Shall we test it?”
Amused, he headed to the window. “I saw the light and hoped … well, it was hope that you were here and then annoyance that your security arrangements were so inadequate. But I see you are more than capable. May I take you to dinner?”
I placed Gunnar’s stick on my desk. “No, you may not. Did you bring the papers?”
“I have sent them to my lawyer to review.”
More excuses. “And then you’ll sign them?”
“If that is your wish.”
“Good.” I should have been overjoyed that he was giving me what I wanted. But the look on his face … it was like I had devastated him.
I moved closer. “Why were you late tonight? You said you had an errand.”
“Now I am obeying your commands, you are interested in my life.”
“Fine. Don’t tell me. Keep me in the dark as usual.” Disappointed, I turned away.
“My father is ill.”
I spun around. “How ill?”
“He fell off a stool today and hit his head.”
“Is he okay?”
“Yes. A nasty cut, but he is a tough old bear. Only there is more. He has Alzheimer’s. It is progressing more rapidly than I expected.”
Oh, how awful. Alexei and his father were close, and while I’d never met him, I knew that he had once been a major critic of the Russian government.
Alexei had always been taciturn about his father’s work, but I understood that Nazarov Sr. moved to the US several years ago.
I had once seen him at a hockey game in Seattle, wearing his son’s colors and looking so proud of what he had achieved.
“Sit for a moment.”
He took a seat and I sat in the armchair beside him. “When did he start showing symptoms?”
“It is one of those things that remains under the surface for years. He would get confused, misplace things, drive to the wrong location for coffee. But it became more serious in the fall of last year. I got a call that he was found wandering around the cul-de-sac where he lived, knocking on doors, looking for me.”
A cool dread prickled my skin. “Where were you when you got this call?”
“In Las Vegas with my new wife.”
My mouth dropped open. “Alexei!”
“One of his neighbors had tracked me down and told me what happened. I had seen signs, but I ignored them. I just assumed it was typical aging. But this is not typical. He cannot be alone for long, but I have a day nurse who comes in, for all the good it does. They still let him fall off stools.”
I touched his arm. “Alexei, you’re doing the best you can. Why didn’t you tell me that’s why you couldn’t get breakfast with me that day in Vegas?”
“I did not want to plague you with my troubles. We had just reconnected and … it’s a lot, Lauren. Even without the marriage complication.”
A simple text telling me he had family issues would have sufficed. I wouldn’t have blocked him because I was pissed at being passed over. Again. But this was typical Alexei. Everything had to be on his terms.
“So, how is he doing now?”
“He thinks his old enemies have come out of the woodwork to persecute him.”
He touched the fading bruise on his cheek and my heart keened for him.
“He did that?”
“He didn’t mean to. What if this is his life now? Delusions about his past, thinking the state is here to torture him? I worked for years to get him out of Russia to safety. Now his mind thinks he is in danger again. I hate that he might be suffering, even if it is only imaginary.”
I had no idea that Alexei had done this for his father, or that his father had needed to be rescued at all.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. In college, we never discussed our home lives—or he never discussed his with me.
Perhaps Alexei didn’t share about this good man who stood up to authoritarianism because the contrast with my criminal father would be too great.
Was that why he pushed me away? Any association with me would only taint his father’s reputation?
“You never talked about your father much.”
“What was there to say?”
I told you about mine. But we didn’t have that kind of relationship. It was purely hormones and hockey.
“I’m sorry about your dad, Alexei. If you ever need to talk about it, I’m here.” Of course, he had Jason, and probably any number of confidantes he had found over the years.
A battle raged on his face. “Your boyfriend would not like it if you were friends with me.”
His mercurial mood switch put my back up. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t see you as a threat.”
“You mean … he knows?”
“Of course he knows. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”
Alexei looked confused, which wasn’t far off from my feelings on the matter. “And he is okay with this?”
“Yes, because he’s a mature adult who trusts me.
” The words sounded dry in my throat. Of course I wanted Thad to trust me, to treat me with respect and understand that I would never deliberately hurt him, but could he not have been a little annoyed?
As soon as he heard who I was married to, he seemed to revel in it.
Alexei made a sound, deep in his throat. “If you were my woman, I would not be very happy that you ‘accidentally’ married another man, no matter the circumstances. No matter the trust between you.”
I shouldn’t have cared but a part of me thought: That’s what I’m talking about. That’s how it should be.
I shook the feeling away. It wasn’t fair to compare them. There was a reason why I had chosen a man like Thad—I wanted normal even if it was also boring.
“What happened with you and me was pre-Thad. No one can begrudge the mistakes made in the past.”
“Oh really? You begrudge my mistakes every day.” Before I could clap back, he added, “Does he not wonder at how much of a mistake it truly was? Someone you have history with …”
He moved closer. My breath caught, my pulse skittered, as if handsome athletes weren’t my bread and butter. I ate these dummies for breakfast!
“Someone you spent the night with, in a deep embrace, our limbs tangled, my mouth on the back of your neck.” He cupped my chin, rubbed a thumb along my lip. “My cock as hard as ice, my body hot as fire. For you, Lauren. Always for you.”
I should have drawn back, but I couldn’t. I was locked in the Russian’s tractor beam again.
“T-this isn’t fair.”
“No, it is not.”
He was going to kiss me—and there was every chance I might let him.