Devil's Lair (Molotov Obsession #1) - Anna Zaires Page 0,59
see it now in the way his face softens when I talk about the boy. I don’t know why he refuses to protect his son from such obvious dangers as a sharp knife, but it’s not because he doesn’t love him. He does—though judging by the way he is around Slava, I wouldn’t be surprised if he has trouble admitting it.
I think Nikolai wants to be closer to his son but doesn’t know how.
I think… he may be a good man, after all.
Alina’s warning intrudes on my mind again, but I push it away. She was high, and there’s clearly tension between brother and sister, some kind of history I’m not privy to. Besides, I don’t know what she thinks is happening between me and Nikolai, but love is nowhere on the table. Sex, maybe—I’m realistic enough to admit that my determination not to sleep with my boss is proving to be no match for the powerful attraction between us—but love is a whole other game. I’d be an idiot to fall in love with a man like Nikolai, who’s undoubtedly used to the most beautiful women in the world throwing themselves at him. If we slept together, it wouldn’t mean anything to him—and I can’t let it mean anything to me.
Better yet, we shouldn’t sleep together.
That way, nobody gets hurt.
We talk about Slava for another twenty minutes before the late hour catches up with me and a yawn overtakes me in the middle of a sentence. I stifle it right away, but Nikolai isn’t fooled.
“You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” he murmurs, eyeing me with concern. “You should’ve said something, zaychik. I didn’t mean to keep you up.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just…” Another uncontrollable yawn interrupts my words, and I cover it with the back of my hand before giving him a rueful smile. “Okay, yes, it’s sleepy time for me. How are you so awake? You must be jet-lagged on top of everything.”
The green flecks in his eyes gleam brighter. “I don’t need much sleep.”
Of course he doesn’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was part superhuman—that would explain those extraordinary good looks he shares with his sister.
“Well, goodnight anyway,” I say, fighting another yawn. “And good luck with whatever business you have there.”
“Thank you, zaychik.” His smile holds a tender note. “Sleep well. I’ll call you tomorrow evening.”
He hangs up, and as I put away the laptop, I’m cognizant of my heart beating in a new, uneven rhythm, my chest filled with a warmth I don’t dare examine.
33
Nikolai
I close my eyes after we disconnect, trying to hang on to the unaccustomed feeling of well-being talking to Chloe has generated, but it’s fading fast. In its place is grim awareness of what I must do today, mixed with dark anticipation.
It’s been six months since I’ve been in this world. Six months since I’ve let myself get involved in our business on any level beyond the most superficial. And while I’d like to say that I hate being back, I can’t deny that a part of me revels in it all… that my blood is pumping faster through my veins.
Opening my eyes, I close the laptop and rise to my feet.
Time to get to work.
Pavel is already waiting in the hotel lobby, and we walk out together. Our destination is a small tavern a few blocks away, or more specifically, its basement.
The sight that greets us when we descend isn’t pretty. A man is hanging by his wrists from a chain bolted into the ceiling, the toes of his booted feet just barely scraping the bare concrete floor. His pale face is bruised and swollen, the area under his off-center nose crusted with dark blood. Two of Valery’s men stand next to him, their faces hard and eyes emotionless.
“Any luck?” I ask one of them, and he shakes his head.
“Claims he doesn’t have the entrance code. It’s a lie. We saw him use it.”
“Hmm.” I approach the captive and make a slow circle around him, noticing how his breathing picks up as I do. An acrid urine scent emanates from his crotch area, and there are dirt and blood stains on his beige Atomprom uniform.
The poor guy knows he’s fucked.
“What’s your name?” I ask, stopping in front of him.
He stares at me, mouth trembling, then bursts out, “I don’t know the code. I don’t!”
“I asked for your name. You know that, don’t you?”
“Iv—” His voice cracks, as if he were a teenage boy instead of a twenty-something man. “Ivan.”