Chapter 4
Nikolai
I ’ m barely out of Grandfather’s office before Cricket pulls me into a hug.
“I just heard,” she says against my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Nik.”
I let myself melt into her embrace. She’s tall and curvy, with a glasses collection that rivals a Warby Parker store. Today’s
pair is a truly hideous shade of purple, and since I last saw her, she cut her hair. The dark blond waves used to go to her
shoulders, but now she’s rocking a pixie cut.
“This is new.”
She smooths the sides of her hair. “Do you like it? I figure why not announce myself more aggressively as a lesbian, really
scare all the guys on the trading floor.”
I snort. Cricket has a flair for dramatics, like someone else I know. Or knew, rather. The last thing I need to think about
is how well Isabelle would get along with my cousin. “You look like Kristen Stewart.”
Her eyes light up. “Do you really mean that?”
“If you ditch the glasses.”
“I like the glasses. They’re quirky.”
“They’re... ugh. They’re my new team color.”
“Oh, so Grandfather did get you in somewhere else. Spill.”
I head for the nearest room with some privacy, the sitting room with the grand piano and Jeff Koons sculpture. Cricket’s loafers click on the marble floor as she hurries to keep up. Emotion wells in my chest, threatening something deeply embarrassing— tears—so I gnaw the inside of my cheek and think of the hockey rulebook until it passes.
There’s no use mourning the loss of hockey in my life until it actually happens. Once I’m in charge of the corporation, maybe
I’ll work through my sorrow by buying a hockey team. For now, I have to stay focused on the present, which includes keeping
myself in the right headspace to get to work. I’m leaving for McKee first thing in the morning, with just enough time to settle
in before classes begin.
“Nik?” Cricket’s voice has a soft note to it. I must be tense enough that she can see it. “Seriously, what happened?”
I collapse onto the nearest couch and drop my head into my hands. “I deserved to get expelled.”
“That’s not true.”
“A freshman is in the hospital because I fucked up.” I lift my head as she sits next to me. “The team was my responsibility.”
“But they weren’t your drugs. I don’t get why you didn’t just say—”
“Because John is at UMass on scholarship,” I interrupt. “His family doesn’t have ten houses, Cricket. He doesn’t have a fortune
to fall back on. If UMass had expelled him, his future would have been over. I could take it. He couldn’t.”
I’ve never had a best friend, but John Hayes comes close. We roomed together freshman year, and he’s the only one on the team
who knows the truth about my father. He can be an idiot, and bringing coke to a team party was monumentally stupid. I care
about him, though, and I wasn’t about to snitch on him. Loyalty to the team is everything.
Even if because of it, the team isn’t mine anymore.
“But it was his choice, not yours. You should have told them the truth.”
“He’s my friend and teammate. And my responsibility as captain.” I manage a smile. “And look, it all worked out. Grandfather is very generously letting me finish my degree at McKee, so long as I come work for him right after.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“He can’t do that.”
“He can.” I’m not even all that bitter. The world revolves around Joseph Abney, and there’s no point in fighting it. If he
gets his way—and he will get his way—that will be me eventually. The one with more power and wealth than he knows what to
do with.
I can think of worse lives to lead. Not everyone gets what they want; that’s a fact. Some people don’t get anything, whether
it be loving families, fulfilling careers, or romantic relationships. I should have known that I was one of the unlucky ones.
“He knows you’re going to play hockey professionally, right? Like, for millions of dollars?”
“Why make millions playing a sport that will wreck your body when you can make billions in a boardroom?”
Cricket stands, practically vibrating with indignation. “Did he say that?”
“No,” I say, tugging her down. “It’s fine.”
“This is the definition of not fine.”
“I thought you didn’t understand why I love hockey so much anyway.”
She’s never played a sport seriously, outside of tennis, and that was just to pad her college applications. She thinks it’s
strange that it’s practically the air I breathe. An unsavory reminder of my father, not an expression of something I want
on my own merits.
Who knows, maybe all of them are right. I wouldn’t have this love without him giving it to me.
I wonder what he’d say if he knew I’m going to walk away. He’ll learn about it eventually; he keeps tabs on me. I promise myself over and over that I’ll stop taking his calls, but then he finds a way to draw me back in. I hate how good it feels to speak Russian with him, never mind the panic attack I have to fend off after I hang up.
“I don’t. But I know it’s important to you, which is good enough for me. Honestly, Grandfather can be such a prick sometimes.”
“The company should be yours, you know.”
“It was never going to be mine.” Her tone is neutral enough, but I catch the flare of frustration in her eyes. Grandfather
has never taken her as seriously as she deserves, which is ridiculous considering how brilliant she is. Right now, she’s working
for a venture capital firm, wiping the trading floor with the other associates, but I know she’d prefer a spot on the Abney
Industries board. “It was always going to be yours. He didn’t have a son, but at least he has a grandson, and because you’re
a man and I’m not, you will always be the better choice.”
“Nikolai?”
I tear my gaze away from Cricket’s at the sound of Mom’s voice.
My mother has always been an elegant woman. In Russia, that meant expensive furs and perfectly coiffed hair, but without the
influence of my father, she’s embraced her natural tendency for the bohemian, just as high end as possible. Today she’s in
heels and a sundress that Isabelle would call periwinkle, her blond hair curled gently around her shoulders.
She takes off a pair of red sunglasses and carefully tucks them into her purse. “Did you have a chance to speak with your
grandfather?”
“I’m leaving for McKee in the morning.”
“Oh, good.” She kisses me on the cheek. The non-scarred one. In the wrong mood, she flinches when she looks at me, trapped in a memory, I’m sure. I look so much like my father, she doesn’t even watch me play hockey anymore. During my first game in America after we left Dad, she took one look at me, froze, and fled; she sent a car to take me home when it ended.
“McKee?” she adds. “You’ll have to tell Izzy I said hello. It was so nice to have an assistant who really understood things.”
I had no doubt that Isabelle was excellent at her job, but I smile at the confirmation. Mom has no idea we were involved with
each other, but in other circumstances, I like to think she’d have approved.
“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”
“I don’t understand why they had to expel you. Like we haven’t given that school enough money.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does, honey. I know you chose to go there for a reason.”
“Grandfather is making him work for the company when he graduates,” Cricket says.
Mom blinks. I can’t quite tell, but I think that surprised her. “I’m sure he has his reasons.”
“Nik has hockey .”
“And look how well that worked out for his father,” she snaps. She flushes. “I mean—Nikolai, sweetie—”
“It’s fine.” I step around her. “I have to pack.”
“Let’s get lunch before you leave. Or dinner. Any restaurant you want.”
I swallow around the debris in my throat. I’ve never blamed my mother for staying with my father as long as she did—he’s a magnetic force, charming and downright seductive when he wants to be—but still, I hate to think of the years she spent covering her bruises with makeup and making excuses for him. Our relationship is fragile, a dance where neither of us knows the steps. Distance aside, I’m glad she’s here and happier than she was before. She has her wedding planning business now, and all the friends she knew before she ran away with Dad brought her back into the fold. Grandfather welcomed her back, despite their fractured relationship, and part of me can’t help but be grateful about that, too.
“Sure,” I say after a too-long pause. “That sounds nice.”
Cricket pounces the moment Mom leaves the room. “You’re going to Isabelle’s school? That Isabelle? Did I hear that right?”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
“How is she?”
“No idea. You know that.”
“Okay, sure, like you haven’t stalked her on Insta.”
“It doesn’t matter that she’s going to be there.” I scrape over a scuffed spot on the floor with my shoe. Of course I’ve searched
for her Instagram, but I’m not about to admit that. Half the photos on her grid are of her with her family; our childhoods
couldn’t have been more different if we tried. “I’m going to be on her brother’s team, and he already doesn’t like me, remember?”
Cricket’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit. Right.”
“And anyway, she can do better than me,” I say, scrubbing a hand through my hair.
Better that she settles down with a guy who deserves her, someone her brothers will never have to worry about when it comes
to treating their little sister right. Someone who won’t dread the day his relationship turns him into his father.
“That’s not—”
“It’s true.” I make myself smirk. It’s a mask, and normally Cricket would be exempt from seeing it, but the last thing I need is her encouragement. I couldn’t even bring myself to give Isabelle a proper goodbye the last day of her internship; I left her asleep in her sublet. “When have you seen me do relationships? I’d break her heart.”
And maybe her, too.
Cricket studies me, clearly unconvinced. “But what about yours?”