Her Russian Brute: 50 Loving States, Idaho (44 page)

Her face lit up. “Really? Because if that’s the case, maybe we could push dinner back an hour and you know… establish a family dinner routine with Pavel?”

A family routine. It was as if she knew his secret wants without having been told. And this time he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he answered, “
Da
,
Da
. That is good idea. I will come home early and eat family dinner.”

She clapped her hands together, her genuine smile making him feel like he’d just won a trophy. She was beautiful when she was angry, but in that moment, he realized she was even more so when she was pleased.

“Okay, cool! Then I think we have a potentially good dynamic on our hands.”

He had no idea what she meant by that, but he agreed, “Cool.”

“And in the interest of your family dynamic, could you explain a little more about what’s made you so anti-birthday party?” she asked

He froze, not liking that the subject had come back around to his past. Not liking it at all.

“It is silly custom.”

“Yes, birthdays along with love,” she said, her tone dry. “And you don’t think that’s a hard stance to take on things? Maybe something you might want to reconsider now that you’ve been given custody of an eight-year-old?”

A bad feeling began to boil inside his chest. “You are counselor,” he realized out loud.

“Not my official title,” she answered carefully. “But yes, it’s one of the roles I serve at Ruth’s House.”

He gave her a heavy frown. “I did not ask for your counseling, but you have come here to shrink my head. Like I am hurt woman. Like I am child, same as Pavel.”

She went still in a way that let him know that this was exactly why she’d come in. Not because she’d been truly happy about him coming home from work, but because she’d had an agenda.

“I…” she stopped, took a deep breath, before quietly saying, “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“No, you want to be counselor to me,” Nikolai said, growing angrier by the second. “You think I am—how you say—traumatized. Like Pavel. Damaged.”

She shook her head, her lips setting in a defensive line. “Those aren’t the terms I would use for you or Pavel, but do I think you should maybe talk to somebody? Yes. You literally drove straight from the police station to get Pavel, but now you’re barely interacting with him. And the few interactions you’ve had with him always seem to end up with him feeling ashamed. Like when you told him men don’t cry, and tonight with the birthday party stuff.”

“How did I shame him?” Nikolai demanded. “All I said was—”

“All you said was that birthday parties are a silly custom.”

“They are silly customs,” Nikolai said, his voice full of icy derision. “You Americans and your sentimental, unnecessary customs.”

“Pavel’s American, too,” she reminded him. “And his birthday is in three months. Three months prior is around the time when regular kids start asking about what’s going to happen for their birthday.”

Nikolai hadn’t realized that and his surprise must have shown, because Samantha shook her head at him like she was dealing with the world’s biggest idiot.

“Pavel never asks for anything. Ever,” she said quietly. “But maybe he’s starting to trust that he’s in a stable environment now, because he was obviously using Mateo’s party to introduce the idea of having a birthday party of his own tonight. Until you made him feel like it was shameful for him, a little boy, to ask for something nearly every other little boy his age in America is getting. So yeah, fine, go ahead and think birthday parties are silly. But I don’t care what you say, Pavel deserves a party. Deserves it more than most after what he’s been through. And if you don’t throw him one, I will.”

That proclaimed, she stood up and slammed out of his office. Leaving Nikolai behind to feel like the opposite of a man on the verge of establishing a family. Despite the addition of a child to his household, and the eminent arrival of another one inside Samantha’s womb, that dream seemed even farther away than it had before Pavel and Samantha had come to live with him.

T
HE next morning
, Sam woke up, did a short yoga routine with Pavel before they walked Back Up around the block, and ate breakfast. A breakfast she soon regretted when she had to run out of the room to throw up. After that, she barely managed to get Pavel into the car with his security guard, Dirk, before she had to go lie down for a little bit, sweating from the exertion of her usual morning routine, though it was in the low thirties outside.

So far being pregnant with Nikolai Rustanov’s baby had caused her nothing but literal headaches with bouts of throwing up in-between. And by the time she got to work, and fished two Tylenol out of the Ruth’s House first aid kit, she was wondering how she was going to get through the next few weeks, much less eight more months.

And then Danny called her outside so he could put in his two weeks notice.

“Sorry about this, Ms. McKinley,” he told her. “But only being able to go inside to use the bathroom was tough, and when that big bruiser came by yesterday—”

“He wasn’t a threat,” Sam pointed out. “He’s actually Pavel’s uncle, and he was just checking in about a personal matter.”

“Sure, sure,” Danny said, waving off her explanation. “But my ticker got to racing just looking at that fellow. And the thought of taking him on… well, I’m thinking I might not be the best person for this job, and I’ve got friend who says he can get me in at the mall.”

So that happened, and Sam couldn’t say she blamed Danny. As much good as Ruth’s House did, they had to keep costs down if they wanted to continue doing that good. This meant they only had so much money to pay security minimum wage. Not nearly enough to make even the possibility of having to take on Nikolai Rustanov worth it.

The only thing that kept the day from being a total wash was that her morning sickness truly was contained to the mornings—not all day as some of the women in the internet comments she’d read on the subject had ominously warned. She was able to eat and keep down the Cubano sandwich Nyla brought her, which meant her stomach was full and happy when her cell went off with a text message from Nyla.

“Marco downstairs. Says he needs to talk to you.”

Her heart sank with apprehension. Apparently Marco hadn’t gotten the message the other day, which was upsetting because the last thing she felt like doing was dealing with someone who couldn’t take no for an answer.

She went downstairs anyway, knowing she’d have to figure out a way to make it clear this time. But when she stepped out onto the porch, she wasn’t met with Marco’s usual easygoing smile.

“Did you tell Nikolai Rustanov to have me transferred?” he demanded.

Sam blinked. “What? No!”

“Well, he did,” Marco bit out. “I’m off my beat. Do you know how many years I’ve spent in this neighborhood, getting to know the locals, earning their trust? And with one snap of his fingers, all that’s getting taken away from me.”

“But…” She shook her head. “How would Nikolai be able to pull that off?”

“I don’t know, Sammy,” Marco answered, shaking his head. “Maybe the same way he managed to keep his brother out of the system all these years. Maybe the same way he managed to make those Russians who came after you conveniently disappear never to be heard from again.”

“Wait, what?” Sam asked. She was having trouble keeping up with Marco.

“Oh yeah, you didn’t hear about that? The detectives on your case go to see about this small Russian gang working out of Jiggles to find out if they’ve got anything to do with coming after you and the kid. But they get there and they can’t find hide nor tail of the gang anywhere. Nobody at the club has seen them for days. In fact, the last time anybody’s seen them was the same night somebody tried to get you and the kid. And one of the strippers said she saw Nikolai getting out of his car in the parking lot as she was coming in for her shift. Was disappointed because she rushed to get ready, hoping he’d be a big tipper, but he never came out on the floor. And according to the security outside the VIP rooms, he never showed up there, either. Could be he went straight downstairs to confront the gang. He either killed them or convinced them to leave town.”

Now Sam really blinked. So that was where he’d gone the night he sent her to his home with Pavel! But a morbid gratitude filled her heart, as opposed to the horror Marco had probably been expecting. She’d been looking over her shoulder ever since what had happened, and this meant she wouldn’t have to worry about her or Pavel’s safety any longer, at least in that regard.

But the other matter of Marco’s job didn’t sit well with her.

“How do you know he has that kind of juice?” she asked him. “And even if he did, why would he use it to get you transferred off your beat?”

Marco looked at her like she was an idiot. “Because obviously he’s not just a hockey player, like he wants everybody to believe.” He looked around as if he were afraid someone might overhear them, before stepping closer to whisper, “You know his cousin is Alexei Rustanov, right?”

She shook her head. “Who’s that?”

“The Russian billionaire. Supposedly legit now, but his dad used to be the head of a powerful Russian mafia family. So that means Mount Nik’s got mafia in his blood, too,” Marco informed her with a bitter look. “And now he’s using it to make sure I stay far away from you.”

N
ikolai kept his promise
. He once again left work early and got home just a little before six. But unlike the night before, most of the downstairs lights were off. And unlike the night before, Back Up was at the door to greet him as soon as he walked in. And also unlike the night before, Samantha was waiting for him on the foyer stairs.

He stopped when he saw her sitting on the gleaming ivory staircase. She looked out of place in her simple jeans and sweater and he suddenly found himself wishing everything in his house wasn’t so grand.

Yes, all the grandeur had brought him great comfort when he’d first bought the house. There was something fitting about him—the neglected child of a murderer who’d been hidden away in a cheap apartment like a dirty secret—now having the means to live in such ostentatious luxury. But looking at Samantha in her frank, simple attire made him wish he lived in a simpler house, one where she’d feel more at home.

She stood as he closed the door behind him, crossing her arms over her chest. That’s when he realized she had something on her mind and hadn’t been sitting there just to welcome him home.

Back Up chose that moment to whine at his legs and flop down, belly up. Over the last month, Nikolai had found the only way to keep the bull terrier from blocking his way after he arrived home was to pay her a regular toll of belly rubs and ear scratches. Only then would she allow him to move about his own house in peace.

Useless dog, he thought, even as he bent over to pet her belly.

Then he straightened and met Samantha’s eyes. “Where’s Pavel?”

“With Nyla and Dirk,” she answered. “They’re having dinner now and Nyla’s waiting for my call so she can bring him home.”

“Who’s Nyla?” he asked, having met the latter once, soon after he’d been hired as Pavel’s driver and bodyguard.

“She occasionally babysits Pavel when I get too busy at Ruth’s House,” Samantha answered. “She reads a little… strange. But she interns at Ruth’s House and she’s working on her master’s in Child Psychology. So… perfect fit for Pavel.”

Nikolai didn’t know about that, but this Nyla person was beside the point anyway. The real question was, “Why isn’t he here? For dinner?”

“Because I thought it would be easier if he wasn’t here. We need to talk. About Marco.”

He bent back over to pet the dog again until the rage that even the mention of that man’s name inspired in him passed. He scratched behind Back Up’s ears in silence, clamping down on his heart, until he was sure he had a hold of himself. And only then did he stand back up and ask, “What about Marco?”

Her eyes scanned his face as if she were trying to get some kind of read on him. “So this gaming the system and getting people you don’t like transferred? Is this the kind of thing you do all the time?”

He stood in silence, giving her nothing. This was the Rustanov way. Cold and ruthless. Never giving in, never letting your enemy see you sweat, as the Americans like to say.

“Is it an ingrained habit?” she continued. “Like you don’t know any better, because that’s how you were raised? Or is it a fairly new thing? Like you’re so used to people saying yes to you now, it doesn’t even occur to you not to grossly abuse your power?”

“Enough,” Nikolai growled. “If you are angry about your boyfriend, know I do not care.”

“What exactly
do
you care about, Nikolai?” she asked. “I mean other than hockey? Did you care about your brother? How about his son? Do you care at all about Pavel? Or is he just some kind of obligation to you?”

“I come here early to share meal with him. He is not here,” Nikolai answered. “What more you want from me?”

Frustration flashed in her eyes, angry and hot. “I want the truth Nikolai. That guy that came after me. Did you have anything to do with his disappearance? Of him and his entire gang?”

Nikolai’s jaw clenched. Apparently the cop had not taken his transfer quietly as he had hoped. An error on Nikolai’s part. But it didn’t matter. He refused to answer Samantha’s accusations.

And Samantha took that as in invitation to throw more at him. “Is it true you have mafia ties, ones you used to get Marco transferred?”

Again, he gave her nothing. Not just because he was a Rustanov, but also because… what could he say? That he let his jealousy get the best of him? That yes, he did what he could to keep her away from her boyfriend, even though he was deeply aware it was petty and there was nothing he could truly do?

The baby growing inside of her was his. But she wasn’t. So he stayed silent as he’d learned to do growing up. Stayed silent and waited for this to be over.

H
e was gone
. Sam knew that as soon as he went completely still on her, like a living statue at the state fair. This one wasn’t covered in spray paint, but nonetheless, he was a man in a suit who turned into stone when confronted in any way.

A thousand possible psychological explanations went through Sam’s head for his reaction to her accusations, but at the end of her very long day, she could only focus on one. He didn’t want to talk to her.

He was unwilling to communicate with her in any way. He was exactly what he’d claimed to be when they first met, a man who did not like complications, and this whole conversation along with Sam herself was a complication he wasn’t willing to deal with.

“Okay,” she said, making herself calm down. “Okay…”

What he’d done to Marco was beside the point, anyway. The real point here was Pavel. Making sure Pavel didn’t get hurt. Making sure no matter how incapable of simple human emotions his uncle was, that Pavel got to grow up in a stable home.

She took a deep, cleansing breath, like the ones she’d instructed Pavel to take when they were in their weekly session and talking about his father became too overwhelming. Then she said to Nikolai, “I’m going to move back to my place.”

The only indication that he heard her was a slight shift in his gaze from the spot beyond her head to her face.

“I think we’ve reached a potentially confusing time as far as Pavel and this baby is concerned, and I don’t want to hurt him any more than I have to. So now that he’s settled in here, I’m going to find someone else to take over his weekly counseling sessions, and I’m going to start limiting our interactions. I think…”

She said this next part quickly, so she wouldn’t start crying. “I think Pavel and I have both become a little too dependent on each other and this is probably what’s best for all of us, considering you and I have come to an impasse I don’t think we’re going to be able to navigate.”

Sam waited for Nikolai to say something. Anything. For the longest time, he stood there perfectly still, his face hard as granite as he studied her from underneath hooded eyes.

But eventually he spoke. One word. “When?”

“When?” she repeated. “Well, I was thinking I’d move out tomorrow while Pavel’s at school, then we’d go into a gentle transition plan, using Nyla as a partner, after that.”

He regarded her for a few icy seconds before saying, “Tomorrow is too soon. Give me two days to prepare.”

“O-okay,” she said. “Do you need any help arranging for someone to be here when Pavel gets home from school?”

“No,” he answered. Then he walked away, heading towards his study without another word, and leaving her both confused and surprised by his unexpectedly easy acquiescence. But really, she shouldn’t have surprised. It wasn’t like he’d asked her to come here in the first place.

She’d just given him exactly what he wanted. They’d had sex, and now she was leaving. He was probably glad to be rid of her, she thought. Which was a good thing.

So why did she feel so sad when she texted Nyla that it was okay to bring Pavel home now?