Chapter 7 Ilya
SEVEN
ILYA
“I don’t think you should go alone,” Boris says as I head for the exit. “Let me go with you, Boss.”
I shake my head. “No. You’d scare Micah. I’ll go pick him up, and maybe take him home.”
If it’s up to me, I’m definitely taking him back to my condo.
Somebody near the bar shouts, and another man stands up from his table to yell back. Something must’ve gone wrong with that poker game.
“See? You’re needed here. Go keep an eye on these idiots,” I say to Boris. “Make sure nobody’s trying to cheat us.”
Boris still looks unhappy about it, but he goes to deal with the poker players. I’m relieved he agreed so easily. I know Micah would balk if I showed up with another person. He needs to feel safe, and another big, scary man won’t do that.
As far as Boris knows, I’m being kind to somebody I feel sorry for. A young man who is young enough to be my son.
I grimace at that. I don’t think of Micah as a child. He might be younger, but he has to be in his early twenties.
No, I’ve been doing nothing but imagining kissing him and fucking him. Even when I first came to New Bristol and decided to have casual sex with a few men—in secret, discreetly—I was never this completely taken with somebody so instantly.
I drive my luxury sedan out of the parking lot and head toward the restaurant Micah said he was waiting at. I hope he stays put. New Bristol can be an unsafe place, especially for people who don’t know how to defend themselves.
Thankfully, Micah is still waiting when I pull up to the curb in front of the restaurant. I park the car and get out so I can get a closer look at him.
“Micah!” I say as I approach. “Are you all right?”
He looks up at me through red-rimmed eyes, nodding even though he couldn’t look further from all right if he tried. “Thank you for coming,” he says quietly. “I didn’t have anyone else to call, and I…” His eyes dart away from mine, and he stares down at the ground.
Like my mother, Micah has no friends.
I can already envision the way Adam makes excuses and rages if Micah attempts to spend time with anyone other than him.
It’s too familiar.
“Of course,” I say, hovering close by. I want to pull him into a hug, but I also don’t want to make him think I only came because I’m attracted to him. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Micah lets out a sound that I’m not sure is a sob or a laugh. “He left. We… We were having dinner, and he just… left.”
He.
“Your partner,” I say, forcing myself to stay calm.
That fucking pig.
My father had done things like this. We would go out as a family, and something would upset him to the point where he would leave me and my sister and mother behind. My mother always pretended it was all right, but we all knew it wasn’t.
Micah nods again. “I left my wallet at home,” he says, swallowing hard. “I didn’t… I tried to call Adam, but… He’s not answering.” He trails off again. “I need to get home. Or maybe he broke up with me. I don’t know.”
He wants to go home, even though his boyfriend did this to him.
I know that if I try to force Micah to see the truth, he’s going to get mad at me.
I have to be gentle.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “If he broke up with you, he doesn’t want you nearby. I can take you somewhere else. Coffee or drinks or wherever you want to go.”
“I don’t have any money on me,” he says, and something occurs to me.
“Micah,” I say slowly, “did he pay the bill before he left?”
He doesn’t look up at me as he shakes his head. “No,” he whispers. “They… They were really nice. I’m going to figure out how to pay them back.”
I shake my head and reach into my pocket for my wallet. “I’ll cover it.”
“You can’t!” Micah says, but I ignore the protest and head inside.
The hostess smiles at me when I approach. “Good evening, sir. How many in your party?”
“I heard there was an issue with a bill,” I say right as Micah enters the building. “I’ll pay it.”
Micah’s cheeks have flushed red, and he shifts from side to side. “Ilya,” he says weakly. “Please, you don’t need to do this. I’ll get it sorted out. It was just an accident. Adam will pay for it.”
“Even if he broke up with you?” I point out. “It’s not big deal for me, Micah.”
The hostess seems torn, but after a few moments she says, “I can run that check for you. Do you remember what you ordered?”
She must agree with me that getting paid now is better than waiting for some uncertain future payment.
Looking so crushed that it makes the rage surge inside of me all over again, Micah quietly produces a crumpled up piece of paper from his pocket. “Here’s the bill,” he says, handing it to me.
I take it, then gently stroke his head. “It’s all right,” I promise.
Micah shudders—and leans into my touch.
My heart thuds faster in my chest.
I force myself to let go so I can pay for the bill. It’s not even two hundred dollars. I should have known a cop wouldn’t be eating at a restaurant that’s actually expensive.
I take my card back from the hostess and turn back to Micah. He’s trembling, and he’s getting curious looks from other restaurant-goers as they pass him by.
I cautiously put an arm around his shoulders. “Where would you like me to take you?” I ask gently. “Anywhere you want.”
Micah licks his lips, pressing against me again. I wonder if he even realizes he’s doing it.
“What if I misunderstood?” he mumbles. “What if he’s waiting for me at home?”
“Then he can wait longer,” I say. I wrack my brain. I know I shouldn’t offer to take him to my condo, but there has to be some place he’d be willing to go. “Maybe we can go to that bar we met at? I remember they also offered desserts.”
He wants to go. I can see it in his eyes as he looks up at me, the yearning, the way he wants to trust me.
But he slowly shakes his head, even as his shoulders slump and his hands drop back to his sides. “I can’t,” he whispers. “I… I should really try to call him again and see if he answers this time.”
I bite my lip, but I nod. “All right. Call him.”
Micah’s hands are shaking as he pulls his phone out, and I watch as he makes the call. I can hear it go to voicemail immediately, and he looks so defeated that I can’t help it: I wrap my arms around him.
He startles, but he leans into the touch, too, burying his face against my chest. I feel his smaller body shaking with the force of his tears.
“Do you want to go to the bar?” I repeat gently. “You can call again later. Maybe he’ll be calmer.”
I don’t want Micah to call again.
I want to take Micah’s phone and smash it against the hard brick of the restaurant wall.
But I vowed never to scare my partners the way my father did. I am not that kind of man.
Micah hesitates, but then he nods. “Okay,” he whispers, pulling away from me.
I lead Micah to my car, opening the door for him and waiting for him to be seated before closing it. I hurry to the driver’s side so I can start the car and drive before Micah changes his mind.
“You can set the music to whatever you like,” I say as I pull out into traffic. “I mostly listen to classical, but I’m always open to new music.”
He shakes his head. “No, classical is fine. It’s what I listen to to relax.” I glance at him, but he’s looking out the window, and I can’t see his face. “There was a cellist tonight. She was really good.”
“Yes? Not as good as you, I assume,” I say with a small smile.
He lets out a quiet sound that I can’t make sense of. “I’m not good. I sound like… like cats in heat.”
That makes me frown. “What? Why would you think that? Your playing was beautiful.” I take a deep breath. “Your music truly moved me.”
“I’m glad,” Micah whispers. “I really am.”
“Now, if you heard my sister when she was young and practicing the violin,” I say with a small laugh. “It was not ‘cats in heat.’ It was an elephant seal being butchered, I think.”
“That’s… graphic,” Micah says with a shudder.
“I’m joking,” I say quickly. I reach out to pat his thigh. “She practiced and became good enough to enter competitions.” I pause. “Have you entered competitions?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not good enough for that,” he replies, looking down at my hand.
He doesn’t push it away.
“You’re plenty good,” I answer with a soft smile. “You don’t need to start with a big competition. There are amateur ones. I can pay for your entry fees, if you’re interested.”
His gaze snaps up to me, and his eyes widen. “What? No. No, I couldn’t ask that of you.”
He’s even more tense than before, his voice going harder.
It reminds me of somebody else, in a different situation, but I push the slight unease I feel aside. Micah is hurting now. There is no room for me to get pulled under by bad memories long gone.
If we weren’t in the car, if I wasn’t driving, I would pull him into my arms to reassure him again. I squeeze his thigh. “Do you want to? Tell me the truth.”
Micah licks his lips, and he hesitates for several long seconds. I’m beginning to think he isn’t going to answer at all when I see him shake his head out of the corner of my eye. “No,” he whispers.
“All right.” I’m disappointed, but I also understand wanting to have hobbies that have nothing to do with work.
It’s why I’d started my aquariums. The aquariums are completely disconnected from the violence and scheming I’m always surrounded by—even if I ended up setting one up at my work office, too.
The fish bring tranquility where none should exist.
It isn’t until we reach the bar that he speaks up again. “I shouldn’t do this,” he says softly. “It’s a bad idea. Adam… He’s not going to be happy about any of this.”
I glance at Micah. “Don’t worry about Adam. He broke up with you. Do you want to be here?”
Micah lets out a choked sound, one that might be a laugh—or a sob. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. I want to be here. I think. I mean, I do.”
I get out of the car and cross over to the passenger side door to open it for him before he gets cold feet. I offer him an encouraging smile, and he slowly gets out.