Devil's Lair (Molotov Obsession #1) - Anna Zaires Page 0,14
into my closet and picks up my skinny black tie, the one I was just about to put on.
Resisting the impulse to reach for a different one just to spite her, I take the tie from her and put it on with practiced motions. “Yes, I do.”
There are cameras in my son’s room, and I spent my afternoon watching him play with his new tutor. They finished building the castle Slava was working on, ate the fruit-and-cheese platter Pavel brought, then played a game of tag, where Chloe chased him around his room and down the hallway, making him laugh so hard he was giggle-snorting. Afterward, Chloe read to him from some of his favorite comic books—the English-language ones, not the Russian translations Alina smuggled in to worm her way into the boy’s good graces. As she spoke, Slava looked fascinated with his beautiful young teacher, something I can’t blame him for.
I’d kill for her to sit next to me and read to me in that soft, slightly husky voice, to feel her hand play with my hair the way it so casually played with my son’s when he snuggled up to her as if he’s known her all his life.
“She’s good with him,” Alina continues as I finish buckling my belt and reach for my suit jacket. “Really good.”
“I noticed.”
“Yet you’re still going to fuck her. Just like he would have.”
I keep my tone level. “I never claimed to be any different.”
“But you can be. Kolya…” She lays her hand on my arm, and when I meet her gaze, she says quietly, “We left. We came here. This is our chance to start over, to make ourselves into whoever we want to be. Forget our father. Forget all of it. You’ve put in your time; now it’s Valery and Konstantin’s turn.”
A dry chuckle escapes my throat. “What makes you think I want to start over? Or be anything other than who I am?”
“The fact that you left. The fact that we’re here, having this discussion.” Her expression is earnest, open for once. “Let the girl be Slava’s tutor and nothing more. Amuse yourself elsewhere. She’s too young for you. Too innocent.”
“She’s twenty-three, not twelve. And I’ve just turned thirty-one—hardly an insurmountable age difference.”
“I’m not talking about age. She’s not like us. She’s soft. Vulnerable.”
“Exactly. And you brought her to my attention.” I smile cruelly. “What did you think would happen?”
Alina’s face hardens. “You’re going to destroy her. But then again”—her lips twist in a bitter smile as she steps back—“that’s the Molotov way, isn’t it? Enjoy your new toy, Kolya. I can’t wait to see you play with her at dinner.”
And without another word, she walks out.
9
Chloe
Holding Slava’s hand, I approach the dining room, my knees all but knocking together. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, but I am. Just the thought of seeing Nikolai again makes me feel like a rabid honey badger has taken up residence in my stomach.
It’s the mafia question, I tell myself. Now that the idea has occurred to me, I can’t get it out of my mind, no matter how hard I try. That’s why my breath quickens and my palms grow damp each time I picture the cynical curve of my employer’s lips. Because he might be a criminal. Because I sense a dark, ruthless edge in him. It has nothing to do with his looks and the heat that flows through my veins whenever his intense green-gold gaze lands on me.
It can’t have anything to do with that because he’s married, and I would never poach another woman’s husband, especially when a child is involved.
Still, I can’t help wondering how long Nikolai and his wife have been together… whether he loves her. So far, I’ve only seen them together briefly, so it’s impossible to tell—though I did sense a certain lack of intimacy between them. But I’m sure that was just wishful thinking on my part. Why wouldn’t my employer love his wife? Alina is as gorgeous as he is, so much so they almost look alike. No wonder Slava is such a beautiful child; with parents like that, he’s won the genetic lottery, big time.
I glance down at the boy in question, and he looks up at me, his huge eyes eerily like his father’s. His expression is solemn, the exuberance he displayed when we played together gone. Like me, he seems anxious about our upcoming meal, so I give him a reassuring smile.