Vadim
"The longer hair works on you," Preston tells me once we're outside. "And I like it a little messier."
I smile. "Thanks."
The only expectation I had coming into today was to prepare for anything. Preston crying. Preston being distant. Preston on Quaaludes.
So far, though, he's basically been a slightly less-bright version of his usual self.
A little more scattergun than usual, like the random questions about Marek and commenting on my hair.
But it's the day of his father's funeral, so he can be and do and say whatever the hell he wants as far as I'm concerned.
Out of instinct, I walk over and check the fence line to make sure we're all good. The backyard is narrow and long, fenced on both sides by timber that's gone gray with age. A lemon tree takes up the far corner, a few fallen fruits lying on the grass beneath it.
There's a garden bed along the back fence that Christine clearly tends to, filled with marigolds and sunflowers. So she really does like them and wasn't just saying it out of politeness.
Out here, the noise from inside fades, replaced by the distant sound of a neighborhood dog barking and a car passing on the street out front.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
I glance over at Preston. It's a cloudy, gloomy day. Fitting really. He looks pale and gaunt, the headache he's fighting written all across his face.
"What do you mean?" I answer.
He steps in front of me and focuses those beautiful hazel eyes directly on me. "It's been months, Vadim, and nothing has happened. I think you can relax now and call off the bodyguards, the surveillance cameras, and whatever else you're doing."
Tension fills my shoulders.
He has no idea what he's talking about. And he couldn't be more wrong. Farkas may be proving more elusive and harder to catch than I'd like, but that doesn't mean the threat he poses has diminished.
Not at all.
In fact, the longer he lays low, the more time he’s got to plan his next move. And there will be a next move. I'm sure of it.
But I don't want to get into any of that with Preston. Not today.
"You leave it to me, okay?" I cradle his face in my hands. "I don't want you worrying about any of that. Are the guards annoying you?"
"No, not at all. I forget they're here most of the time, and I barely notice them when they follow us when we go out."
"Good. That means they're doing their job properly."
"I just think you should drop it, Vadim. This whole situation is getting to you, frustrating you, and I don't think it's worth it."
I clench my jaw and run my fingers through his sandy hair. "I'm not going to drop it. Someone tried to kill you, Pres. I won't rest until…"
"Until what?"
When I look away, he hooks his fingers under my chin and guides my gaze back to his.
"Until what?" he repeats, a little more firmly this time.
"I'm going to take care of it. The less you know, the better."
"That sounds ominous. You're not planning on hurting him are you?" He pauses. "Or killing him?"
I take a step away from him. "Can we talk about something else?"
He comes up beside me. "Fine. I'll drop it. But promise me one thing."
"What's that?"
He moves to stand in front of me, using those eyes as guilt weapons. "Promise me you won't do anything that can't be undone."
"Pres, don't. Please. Just drop it."
Maybe it's because we've just come from burying his father, or maybe it's because of the headache he's battling, but whatever the reason, Preston relents.
Thank god.
It's one thing to let him get closer to me on a personal level, but I cannot expose him to the other side of the world I inhabit. It's like oil and water. It just doesn't mix.
He trudges over to the low retaining wall bordering his mom's flower box and perches himself on it. I follow a few paces behind him but don't sit down.
"When are you going back?" he asks, looking up at me, squinting at the glare from the clouds.
"I'm flying back tonight. There's an important investor meeting first thing tomorrow morning that Marek wants me to be at."
He nods.
"What about you?" I ask, kicking some dirt. "How long are you staying for?"
"Not sure yet. I'll hang around a little while longer. I don't want to leave Mom too soon."
"Of course."
"And I need to speak with Ellie about our living situation. I get the impression living in the casino suits him."
"You're both welcome to stay there as long as you want. There's no rush."
"Thank you," he says as he motions for me to sit down next to him. I do, and he takes my hands, places them on his lap, and clasps his over mine. "There's something I want to talk to you about."
"I've stopped making bad jokes, I swear. Those days are behind me."
His lips twitch. "That's not it, but, ironically, that's one of the funniest things I've heard you say."
"It's worth it to see you semi-smile."
His smile grows a little more, his chest rising on a slow inhale. "I want to address something you said a few weeks ago, when you paid for the cam session."
"Go on."
I already know exactly what he's talking about.
My admission. My confession. My huge blunder. I shouldn't have told him I was falling in love with him. Not because it's not true. I stand by what I said. But it was a misjudgment on my part and clearly not something that he reciprocates.
"You said you were falling for me." He drops his gaze, and I can feel his palms getting warmer over the tops of my hands. "Did you mean it?"
"I did." I stare into his eyes. "I still do."
I bite my tongue. I'll let him say what he wants to get off his chest, and then I'll apologize for overstepping.
"I didn't say anything back," he acknowledges.
"I caught you off guard. My timing wasn't great."
"True. I was a little surprised. But remember, I also have a way of being able to not deal with things I should probably deal with.
I filed it away, but I haven't forgotten about it.
Then things with Dad went south, and that took up all my time and energy, and now I'm rambling and making excuses when what I really want to say to you is this. "
He huffs out a breath, the filtered light illuminating the green flecks in his eyes. "I'm falling in love with you, too."
Something in my chest unlocks.
I've wanted to hear him say that more than I care to admit, but I wasn't expecting it today, here, with him struggling against a headache and holding himself together with nothing but sheer will.
I flip our hands so now mine are over his.
"That makes me so happy, mój kochany."
Our lips meet, his warm and slightly parted. I press mine firmly against them, one hand hooked at his jaw, the other finding the back of his neck. He makes a small sound against my mouth that reverberates in my chest.
He said it back.
The thought loops in my mind. I surrender to the giddy sensation it causes in my belly. But just for as long as we kiss. Because as soon as we pull apart, I'm going to have to revert to seeking justice for what was done to him. And if that means creating some space, some distance between us…
Aw, who the hell am I kidding here?
I can't put distance between Preston and me any more than he can leave his clothes anywhere but on the floor. I'm done for on that front.
What I actually have to do is somehow balance my ever-deepening feelings for Preston with a razor-sharp focus on tracking Farkas down and making him pay for what he did. I have to find a way to make those two things coexist since I'm not backing down on either one.
"What was that thing you said just before we kissed?" he asks, breaking the kiss and leaning back slightly.
"Mój kochany?" I check.
He nods.
The first time it slipped out, I hoped he wouldn't pick up on it. This time, I hoped that he would.
I can't help the cocky grin that forms on my freshly kissed lips. "It's a Polish term of endearment. The literal translation is 'my love,' and…I like saying it."
"You're in luck." His eyes shine, and a genuine smile stretches his lips. He pulls me in for a quick kiss. "I like hearing it."