Chapter 16
sixteen
Afew minutes later, his phone rings loudly, startling us both. Anya’s name flashes on the console screen, and though he declines the call, I glare out the window.
“By all means,” I drawl sarcastically when the same ringtone plays a second time.
Aleks declines the call once more. “She’s angry that I stepped away from her training. Been doing shit like this”—he nods toward the console—“for attention. She’s fine.”
I scan his features. For reasons unknown, though his siblings need him, I’m his priority. Taking me on a drive to prevent me from getting in extra cardio takes precedence over Natasha at his apartment and Anya’s incessant calling.
It pulls on something inside my chest, a longing I haven’t allowed myself to feel in years, outside of, perhaps, for my mother. A longing to be wanted and cared for and seen. And of everyone in my life, it’s Aleks who’s been affording me those things recently.
A rubber band snaps around my chest, tightening with the realization that I might like him more than I ever believed I would.
“You know that conversation we had in Charleston? About how you don’t want to tell your siblings why you left because you think it would be selfish?”
Aleks’ gaze connects with mine, eyebrows stitching together. He nods.
“I’ve been contemplating it this week and…
what if they believe they’re alone in feeling the way they do?
Natasha clearly is struggling with something similar, right?
What if she thinks she doesn’t have a choice?
As far as she’s concerned, you just fell out of love with the sport… ” He’s looking at me funny. “What?”
“No, I just…You’re right. I’ve been going back and forth on it since you mentioned telling them. I’m just not sure how exactly to go about it.”
“Oh.” I’m surprised something I said held any merit or sway, since I have no experience with siblings or this kind of pressure. I nod. “Let her make an informed decision. Maybe if she realizes how similar her circumstance is to yours, she’ll be more comfortable going against your parents.”
He grins. “I thought you hated all Morozovs. Who knew you’d be such a sucker for Natasha?”
I roll my eyes. “I hate Morozovs who dedicate their lives to making me miserable. I also hate ones who talk shit about me and allow those words to end up in press conferences.”
His hand twitches. “I didn’t—”
“I know.” I offer him a soft, reassuring smile.
“We’re almost there. If your clothes are too wet, you can grab a clean shirt from the back.” His eyes drop to my lap, a cocky smirk on his lips. “Since you like my clothes so much.”
Damn it. I curse past Nic for wearing his sweatshirt out of the sanctity of my apartment. “Don’t flatter yourself. It was the first one I found.” I refuse to give him the satisfaction of grabbing a shirt. If I have to partake in this activity wet and cold, so be it.
My phone buzzes a few times, and I open it to a wall of text messages from the girls.
Sahar’s Bad Berlin Bagels
Sahar
Nic, why are you in Cocoa Beach
Harper
Blink twice if you need help!
Delilah
When you said you were going swimming, I thought you meant at the facility???
Okay but actually can we have proof of life?
Harper
Omg she’s been kidnapped.
I’m fine.
Though I have, in fact, been kidnapped.
Sahar
Exactly what someone who’s pretending to be Nic would say
I sigh. “Now look what you’ve done,” I mutter.
“What?”
“The girls checked my location and are worried.”
“You could…tell them what’s going on?”
“That would mean telling them I’m with you. When I should be asleep.”
Aleks glances over, a curl to his mouth. “And that’s bad because…?”
I ignore him, typing out three different versions of “I just needed air” before settling on I’ll be home soon. Go to bed.
A few minutes later, Aleks pulls into an empty lot. The only light we have to see by is the moon and a flickering streetlamp. Beyond the lot is the vague outline of the ocean.
“What are we doing?”
“You wanted to swim, right?”
“Are you insane? You drove an hour so I could swim in the ocean instead of the facility pool?”
“You needed to take a few minutes to relax. To breathe. Which you did in the car on the way here, at least marginally, I hope. Now we can call this your one thing for yourself today.”
I cross my arms, an affronted noise leaving my throat. “I’ll have you know that I chose an artsy movie for movie night tonight, which led to me realize artsy films are not for me. And also led the girls to claim I was torturing them.”
Aleks bites back a laugh, shrugging. “Okay, then it’s a bonus list item. Do you want to get out or not?”
“It’s not like I have much of a choice since you kidnapped me and took me an hour from my home.”
His hand hovers over mine. “You always have a choice, Nic. Especially with me.”
The look we share is meaningful, and even if I don’t fully understand it, I nod. “Fine.”
We get out and walk a few yards from where the waves crash against the shore. Aleks pulls his slutty little shirt over his head, tossing it to the sand, and though I’ve seen him bare-chested, it’s jarring. His arms flex as he moves, and my eyes linger on the tattoo on his chest.
“Ready?” he asks me.
“Wha—what? I thought you were joking. We fly to Stuttgart tomorrow. I don’t know about you, but I need to sleep. I have a routine.”
Aleks walks until the water reaches his waist before diving beneath, his laugh booming.
I follow, stopping when my feet hit the water.
He surfaces, the moonlight casting a halo on his hair, his blue eyes dark as midnight.
A wide, carefree grin splits his face. “In case I haven’t made it abundantly clear, one of my favorite things to do is disrupt your routine. Keep you on your toes.”
“You’re the one who says I need to make sure I’m sleeping plenty for recovery!”
“Yes, but I also know you’re going to go back to the facility and probably go for a run or something stupid, so I’m trying to tucker you out so you can fall into bed as soon as you get home. Get in.”
“I’m going to have to showe—”
“Solnyshko, just get in.”
I do, with a glare and a huff that make him smile. The water is the perfect temperature, and I move through it easily until I’m beside him, watching drops of water race down his body.
“Tell me what it felt like the first time you won a junior major,” he declares.
With brows knitted, I meet his gaze. “What? You have plenty of majors, you know what it feels like.”
Aleks shakes his head. “I know what it felt like for me. I know what it’s felt like for my sister and my parents. But it’s not the same for any of us. So how did it feel for you?”
I lift a palm through the water, then shove it down.
“It’s so cliché, but it was euphoric. A tidal wave of relief and disbelief and joy, all tangled together.
Time slowed, and the crowd was cheering.
For me. I felt so loved. It was everything I ever wanted and more.
” And why I feel like such a disappointment for going years without winning one.
His face shifts, his angular nose throwing shadows over it. If it made sense, I might categorize the look as affectionate. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak so much,” he jokes.
I cross my arms, glaring. “I’m never answering your questions again, asshole.”
Aleks chuckles. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please answer my questions. You lit up brighter than the light of the moon.”
“Considering I can barely see you, that’s not very bright.”
His smile wavers as he pulls me closer by the ties of my bikini bottom.
I almost chastise him but stop when I note the downward tilt of his lips.
“Winning for me was overpowered by relief. And hope that maybe I could relax, followed quickly by the realization that I needed to keep pushing for more. There was less and less joy each time I won until I hoisted the Wimbledon trophy and knew I was done.”
“Quit the next day, right?”
“Out on a high note, they said.”
The pieces of Aleks slot together—why he’s so relentless in his pursuit of keeping my rest days rest days. He’s mentioned not wanting me to become like him, but until now, the picture hadn’t formed entirely.
He doesn’t want my first major to be my last. The realization—which, if I were normal, wouldn’t have taken so long to hit—pinches deep in my chest. “You care so much about others.”
Aleks’ eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. Okay. Is that a surprise?”
“Perhaps.”
“A welcome one?”
I allow a small smile but don’t answer.
“I know you travel the world for a living and you grew up in one of the most beautiful countries, but hopefully this view is a little more impressive than the walls of the pool room.”
Squinting, I ask, “Are you trying to impress me?”
Aleks huffs a laugh, stepping closer. A thrill shoots through me when his chest brushes against mine. “I’m doing anything and everything I can to impress you. Sorry if my ways aren’t orthodox or don’t make sense to you.”
I blink. “Why?”
“It’s beneath you to play dumb, Nic. You know what I think about you.”
“I’m not sure I do.” A pause. “I think you’re attracted to me.
No,” I correct myself, remembering the first time he saw me in a bikini, “I know you are. And that you believe I have the potential to be at the top of the tour. But I’m not exactly sure what you or anyone else thinks about me.
” Adults are so difficult to read. Kids are far easier. They say what they mean.
“You’re already at the top of the tour,” he murmurs.
“But you believe I can be higher.”
He nods once.
“So, what?”
“What answer are you searching for? What do you want to hear?” he asks.
“I suppose the truth would be nice.”
Aleks scoffs. “You don’t want the truth.”
What? What does that even mean? I take one step forward, the water sloshing around and between us. “Why do you really flirt with me? Would you do this with another non-family client? I thought it was a game before, but now I’m just confused.”
He swallows. “I told you why I flirt with you.”
“And that’s the only reason?”
“I can’t help it if seeing you fired up turns me on, solnyshko. I can be better at pulling back if you prefer.”
My gaze drifts to the tattoo over his heart, right below his silver chain, and for the first time, I can make out the words. For the love of the game. I tap it. “Tennis?”
“It works for life too. A reminder not to take things too seriously.” Another step toward him and a stuttered breath he tries to hide with a smile. “You ready to ask nicely?”
“Never,” I whisper, my lips a breath from his. All it would take is a push from a crashing wave and we’d be kissing.
Aleks’ mouth curls wickedly, and he hums. “That’s too ba—”
I’d love to say I don’t know who moves forward first, but it’s me.
My hands are in his hair, his lips on mine.
His hands, hesitant at first, move from the outside of my thighs, one to the divot of my hip and the other into my half-matted hair, tugging me so he’s in control.
I relinquish, my chest falling against his, moaning at the firm press of his mouth, his tongue tangling with mine.
My hands roam over the muscles I’ve spent months trying so hard not to notice.
Lean and muscular shoulders, arms, chest, abs.
Valleys and ridges that deserve my full attention.
The trail of hair disappearing into his shorts that shoots a wet heat between my legs, so powerful, my lower body grows weak.
He nips my bottom lip as my hand slips lower, and my head is nothing but static. Being around him quiets so many of the voices banging around in my head, but this silences them entirely.
Aleks tugs on my hair a little harder, pulling my head back so he can kiss along my jaw. I whimper when he gets to the spot where it meets my neck, and if he were anyone else, I’d be embarrassed.
The realization hits me like a freight train.
If he were anyone else, this would be fine. But he’s not. He’s Aleks, my most hated rival’s older brother. Aleks, who might choose me over Anya today, but who probably won’t weeks, months, years in the future.
Aleks, my performance coach. The man with whom I’ve spent a majority of my time the last couple of weeks, and if all goes well, with whom I’ll spend a lot more in the coming months.
No matter how kind he is, how hard he’s working to keep me from his fate, no matter how attractive I may find him, I know this is a bad idea.
Gently, I push against his chest. Aleks takes half a step back, sucking in a ragged breath, a million different expressions passing across his face. Disappointment, I think. I can’t discern any of the others.
When I finally gather a fraction of my bearings, I pant, “That…this can’t happen again.”
“Why not?” he rasps.
His gaze is so intense I can’t hold it. I take another step back, my brain still scrambled like an egg. “Just…The moment got away from me. I don’t hook up with people I have to interact with often. It’s one of my rules.”
“What are your others?”
I glance back up. His hair is out of sorts, whether because of me or the hand he’s running through it now, I’m not sure. “No feelings. And no family members of my rival.”
He grumbles unintelligibly.
“This can’t happen again,” I say once more, panicked. “Please. Let’s pretend it didn’t.”
“I’m not good at that.”
“I need you to be. So try.”
He sighs, noticeably upset, and nods, turning toward the shore. We don’t speak a word on the drive, and he hardly looks at me when we reach my apartment.