Her Russian Beast: 50 Loving States, New Mexico (39 page)

“
T
HEY get along
,” Nikolai’s cousin, Alexei, observed as they watched Pavel and Alexei’s son, Aaron, take part in a shooting drill game. It involved the Polar’s star left winger, Brian Atwood, who was acting as goalie.

Aaron was a couple years older than Pavel, but anyone who saw them together at the party likely assumed the light brown boys had known each other forever, the way they talked trash and encouraged each other during the drills in equal parts.

“
Da
,” Nikolai agreed.

At that moment, Pavel got a shot past Brian—most likely because he was the birthday boy and Brian was trying to get back into Nikolai’s good graces, so that he wouldn’t go through with his threat to trade him to the worst team in the league.

But Aaron treated it like a great feat, dropping his own stick and yelling, “Yeah, cuz! That’s how us Russians do! Act like you know!”

Then he began chanting, “Russia! Russia! Russia!”

Pavel’s classmates, who were still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that there were not one but two biracial half-Russians at this birthday party, stared.

And Alexei’s mouth twitched, his eyes glimmering with amusement, as explained, “The boy takes after his mother.”

Nikolai’s own mouth twitched as he looked to the other side of the rink where Eva was standing with Samantha. The two women had started talking shortly after the cake had been served and much like Pavel and Aaron, they’d immediately hit it off. A half an hour later, they were still chatting away.

Nikolai wasn’t surprised. His wife and the Texan who, much to Nikolai’s consternation, insisted on calling him Nikki and his nephew Pavvy, had a lot in common beyond the color of their skin. Including backgrounds in social work, gregarious spirits, and Russian husbands. Of course they had decided to become instant best friends.

His wife had a way of immediately connecting with other women, Nikolai noted. That was probably what made her so good at her job. It also didn’t hurt that she seemed to have a warm smile for everyone she met.

At least everyone but him, he thought, his mind darkening.

“So you married the woman in the green dress,” his cousin said beside him. His eyes stayed on the two half-Russian boys on the ice, but his voice took on a certain chill. “Yet you did not invite your favorite cousin to the wedding. Only to this child’s birthday party.”

“Our wedding was small and quick. This party is much more important. It was time for Pavel to meet you and your family.”

“More important than your wedding? Hmmm,” Alexei chewed on that for a moment and Nikolai felt himself tense up. But then Alexei smoothly continued, “Aaron is glad to have another boy on the American side of the Rustanov family, so we appreciate the invitation to Pavel’s birthday.”

Nikolai had always liked and respected his cousin, but his easy acceptance of Pavel as an official Rustanov, despite the fact that he had no official blood ties to their family, made Nikolai admire him that much more.

“Pavel feels the same, I am sure,” Nikolai answered in Russian.

They stood there for a few moments, watching Aaron and Pavel play with matching fondness, but then Alexei opened his mouth again and totally ruined the moment.

“How far along is she?” he asked Nikolai.

Nikolai respected Alexei too much to pretend he didn’t know what he was talking about, even though he’d never told his cousin Samantha was pregnant.

“Twelve weeks,” he answered. “The blood test says it will be a boy.”

Alexei nodded and said, “
Pozdravlyayu
.”

Congratulations in Russian.

“
Spasibo
,” Nikolai answered, hoping that would be the end of this line of conversation.

But after a few moments of thoughtful silence, his cousin said, “Did you get this woman pregnant on purpose?”

Nikolai’s chin dipped low in embarrassment and growing anger, but he answered his cousin truthfully. “Of course not on purpose. It was a surprise. You know I did not want children.”

Alexei tilted his head to the side and gave his cousin another thoughtful look. “I told my Eva I did not want children. I told her this from the start.”

“So you understand,” Nikolai said.

“I told her this, but then I made her pregnant. It was also a surprise. A surprise I have never had with another woman.”

Nikolai who was already well acquainted with Alexei and Eva’s dramatic back story, pursed his lips and asked, “What is your point?”

“I did not like growing up in the Rustanov family. The constant danger, the bodyguards, all the killing. It colored the way I saw the world, and I would not wish that for my children. That is why I refused to have any. But maybe Eva changed my mind, without me knowing it.”

Alexei continued to watch the children skating, but his eyes were in a faraway place as he said, “I did not like growing up a Rustanov, but at least my parents were kind to me. At least they showed me what it was for two people to love each other. That helped.”

Nikolai didn’t reply this time. It was the first time his cousin had ever alluded to the difficulties of growing up a Russian mafia scion, and though Nikolai respected his cousin for turning the Rustanovs into a legitimate business family, he still found it hard to see things from Alexei’s perspective.

Back then, Alexei’s life had seemed perfect, a Russian version of a Norman Rockwell painting. His parents doted on him, and gave him good memories of them to carry forward even after their untimely deaths. It was the complete opposite of how Nikolai had grown up, making it difficult for him on the few occasions his father had brought him to the Rustanov’s palatial estate in Rublevka.

Alexei regarded him with a sad smile. “I will make a confession to you now. Your father scared me as a little boy, and also as a young man. I often took solace in the fact that he was only my uncle, and I felt very sorry for you and Fedya, especially after what happened with your mother. Even sorrier now, because Fedya did not make it.”

Nikolai flinched, Alexei words a sharp knife twisting in his gut. He’d always suspected his cousin regarded him as an object of pity, that finally accepting him into the Rustanov family was an act of pity, and now here was his confirmation.

But the flinch was the only thing Alexei got from him. After that small movement, Nikolai blanked his face and said, “Thank you for your thoughts. But I keep the past in the past. My father does not concern me now.”

“So you say,” Alexei continued to regard him, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You know, I made a lot of mistakes with Eva because of my past. Mistakes I deeply regret now that she is the mother of my children.”

Alexei shook his head, wincing as if the memories of his and Eva’s tumultuous relationship still caused him pain. “I do not know what is wrong between you and this woman, but I see she does not talk to you, does not look at you while we are all here together. Whatever it is that is wrong, you need to fix it. Before the baby comes.”

Alexei and Nikolai were no longer boys. Alexei was no longer a mafia prince, and Nikolai was no longer in line to replace his father as the Rustanov family’s enforcer. Alexei had no right to talk to him this way. No right at all.

Nikolai’s fist clenched at his side.

“Hit me if you want,” Alexei told him calmly. “But it is still the truth. You must fix this. She is a good woman. Funny, like my Eva. And you are full of pride, like me. But trust me, pride has no place in relationships and I promised you this, if you do not get over yours, you will lose her.”

The thought of losing Samantha, of her taking the baby with her as she had threatened before, tore at him worse than a nightmare and it rooted him to the spot in horror. Because Alexei’s words didn’t feel like a warning, but a promise.

A promise of things to come.

“I would like another piece of cake,” Alexei decided out loud. “And then I will take my family and we will go. But think about what I said, Nikolai.”

Alexei left then, heading towards the cake table, and Nikolai was left alone. Still a little boy, still unable to defend himself when confronted with an opponent he couldn’t punch or knock down or kill.

He watched Alexei walk away, his words of answer stuck in his throat.
I am trying. I am. But… I am not sure it can be fixed.

“Mr. Rustanov?”

Nikolai turned around to see Isaac standing there.

“Just checking in,” his assistant said. “The party’s scheduled to end in twenty minutes. Is there anything else you want me to do before I give everyone a fifteen warning?”

Nikolai thought about it. Thought about what his cousin had said, and answered, “
Da
, I have one thing more for you to do.”

“
H
ello
, Mrs. Rustanov!” Isaac’s voice called out behind Sam, just as she was about to take Layla into her arms.

Alexei and Eva’s one-year-old had somehow cuted them into a game of pass-the toddler-back-and-forth, and it was now Sam’s turn to hold the adorable nugget for up to a full minute before she started squirming to be handed back to her mother.

Or maybe more, Sam thought, cuddling the toddler in her arms. Depending on whatever Isaac had to talk with Eva about.

Eva grinned at her, though. “I think he’s talking to you.”

And Sam turned to see that yes indeed,, Isaac was clearly waiting for her attention.

“Oh… hi, Isaac. You can just keep on calling me Sam. Just Sam, seriously,” she said, wondering if she’d ever get used to people calling her by Nikolai’s last name.

Isaac gave her an uncomfortable smile. “Okay… Sam,” he said. “Mr. Rustanov has an all-day event he’d like you attend the Friday after next, and he asked me to make sure you clear your calendar for it.”

Sam remembered what she’d said to Nikolai the last time they’d had a full conversation.
We’re more like project partners and I don’t sleep with my project partners. So if you have an event or a work obligation you need me to attend. Fine. That’s what I signed up for. But I’m sleeping on the couch.

Apparently Nikolai had taken her at her word. “What kind of event?” she asked Isaac.

Isaac shook his head with a shrug. “You know, he actually hasn’t told me yet, just asked me to give you a heads up. Also, I’ll need your passport for security clearance purposes. I assume you have one. Can you send it in with Mr. Rustanov in the next day or so?”

“Sure, ” Sam answered. “But I need to know what the event is. Like, what should I wear, because I’ll probably need to shop…”

“Nope, I’ll take care of all that and coordinate with Nyla on childcare,” Isaac answered, already backing away. “Just clear your calendar. Thanks!”

He was gone before Sam could ask any more questions or tell him Nyla was officially an intern, not her assistant. Again. Isaac was forever insisting on “coordinating” through Nyla, as if it were somehow anathema to him to talk directly to Sam herself. He was like the walking personification of “have your people call my people.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a hot date,” Eva said with a wink. “Good idea to get them out of the way now, because trust me, hot dates become mighty hard once breastfeeding comes into play.”

Sam shook her head, “Oh, it’s nothing like that. It’s probably just an NHL thing or something. Nikolai doesn’t do hot dates. Or any dates whatsoever.”

Eva lifted a brow. “Wow, really? Now that I’ve finished breastfeeding, Alexei’s always pressuring me to let our nanny take over for the weekend so we can do a hotel getaway.”

Sam really liked Eva, she really did. Not just because they were both black women married to Russians—which had been huge but pleasant surprise—but also because she had a wicked sense of humor that reminded Sam of how she used to be back in Alabama, when she’d only had the running of one Ruth’s House on her plate. But as much as she liked Eva, it was hard to keep her jealousy at bay when she said things like that.

Before she met Eva and her husband, she blamed Nikolai’s cold behavior on his cultural background. But his cousin, Alexei, who shared the same culture and was even part of the same family as Nikolai, was incredibly devoted to his wife. So in love with her that Sam wasn’t surprised when he appeared out of nowhere with another piece of birthday cake.

“Share this with me,
kotenok
,” he said.

Eva groaned, “C’mon, Lexie, you know I’m still trying to lose all this baby weight.”

“I like your baby weight,” he all but growled at her, pulling her closer with one large arm. “Tonight after the children are asleep, I will show you how much I like it.”

Eva giggled and shook her finger at him. “You are like the anti-Weight Watchers! I’m going to tell on you to my meeting leader.”

“Eat the cake,
kotenok
. For me.” Then he leaned down and let loose a stream of Russian words that didn’t sound at all cold. No, not cold at all—especially with the way he was looking at Eva as he said them.

Eva groaned again. “You know I can’t think right when you start talkin’ all romantic in Russian. That is so unfair!” she said.

Then she opened her mouth, and Alexei popped a piece of cake inside.

Sam, who still had little Layla in her arms, watched the exchange from the corner of her eyes in self-conscious silence. They were a totally cute couple, but completely sickening to watch. Overly sweet, and even worse, they made Sam wish for things. Things she knew she could never have. Like Nikolai’s heart.

T
HE next two
weeks passed in a blur of Sam working like a dog not to have to go back on her promise to keep the Friday she promised Nikolai free. They were at full intake status with requests for two more beds. And Nyla had finals coming up next week, as well as an entire Saturday, Sunday, and Monday of babysitting for another family who sounded like they were going on some kind of super glamorous vacation, so her intern hadn’t been able to help out as much as she usually did.

“But I can come in if you really, really need me,” Nyla offered when she called on Wednesday to beg the next two days off. “I’m so excited about coming to work there full time after I graduate, I’m totally willing to blow off studying as long as you’re okay with having someone who may or may not get her degree as your assistant director.”

Sam was okay with it in theory, but she couldn’t do that to Nyla. She let the poor girl off the hook and was just glad she’d hired on a permanent weekend director for the center a few weeks back, using the now unnecessary security budget.

As it was, she didn’t have much time to be curious about Nikolai’s event until she came home late that afternoon to a dress bag lying across the bed she still wasn’t sharing with her fake husband. It was from Bonnington’s, a national boutique store she only vaguely recognized because she’d walked past the one in the Keystone Crossing mall a few times. The store always had at least two or three dresses in the window that were almost always on a scale so gorgeous, she didn’t think she’d have anywhere to wear one, much less be able to afford it. But apparently wherever Nikolai was taking her, it was that kind of event.

She opened the bag and pulled out the most beautiful cocktail dress she’d ever laid eyes on. It was simply cut with an empire waist and belled three-quarter length sleeves. But its shape was the only simple thing about it. It consisted of metallic gold lace with large fuchsia and gold buttons in the back that were either made from real Swarovski crystals or doing the best imitation she’d ever seen. If Russia still had tsarinas, it looked exactly like what one would wear to a Very Important Event.

Where the hell was Nikolai taking her? The Oscars!? She got out her phone and pushed Isaac’s contact number. No answer. But less than two minutes later, he texted,
“Sorry. Swamped. Is it important? I can call you back later.”

“No need to call,”
she typed back.
“Just need the details for tomorrow’s event.”

“Okay, will try to get that to you before I go home tonight.”

But the night came and went with no texts from Isaac whatsoever.

Nikolai came to bed—or in this case, the floor—earlier than usual and she thought about asking him about it. But instead, she just stared at his back, unable to figure out how to cross the distance between them enough to even ask a simple question.

Things had been so awkward between them over the past two weeks. Him continuing to sleep on the floor. Her feeling like an idiot because now that her first trimester morning sickness phase had passed, she was in the second trimester “lots of energy” phase with a hot side of “ooh, what’s that you say, pregnancy hormones? You’re feeling weirdly horny?”

You’d think now that he was no longer playing hockey, some of that heavy muscle would have turned into fat. But no, he was still cut all the way up in a way that made her body scream to purposefully fall on top of him whenever one of her increasingly frequent late night sex dreams were interrupted by a need to go to bathroom. She’d never been so tempted in her life to ignore her counseling background and just go on ahead and let a man use her as his toy.

But she couldn’t get back in the bed. She had a degree in psychology, for God’s sake. She knew his sleeping on the floor was a total manipulation, designed to get her to agree to be his marital fuck buddy until he got tired of her and moved on to someone else. Probably as soon as she was big as a house and no longer appealing to him.

No, she decided, squeezing her eyes shut against the sight of his heavily muscled back. Better to let things remain as they were. She wouldn’t be moving back into the bed, no matter how many times she had to step over Nikolai’s ridiculously gorgeous and totally magnificent body.

She’d never surrender.

She fell asleep with that mutinous thought and when she opened her eyes again, Nikolai’s floor pallet was gone. Cleaned up and put away like he’d never been there.

After showering and putting on her new maternity yoga pants and t-shirt, she knocked on Pavel’s door… but didn’t get an answer.

Strange, but sometimes he woke up and went downstairs to hang out with Back Up in the TV room. A chance to veg out with the TV, which he wasn’t allowed to do much these days now that he lived with Sam and her “one hour of TV per day” rule.

But when she went downstairs, he wasn’t in the TV room. She tried the kitchen next, and the sight of the empty room caused Sam’s heart to flip over inside her chest. What if Marco had been wrong about the Russian who had tried to kill Pavel being permanently gone? What if the thug had come back and somehow managed to make his way past Nikolai’s security system? What if…?

In the distance, she heard the sound of Back Up’s feet, nails clicking against the foyer’s floors, along with the pant that came after a good, brisk walk around the neighborhood.

Relief flooded through Sam, even as she went out to the foyer to chastise Pavel for taking Back Up out without her. He’d been hinting that he wanted to do this for weeks now, but she’d been clear with him about the importance of having an adult along when he took the dog for her walks.

But when she came into the foyer, it wasn’t Pavel she found holding Back Up’s leash, it was Nikolai. Nikolai let the dog off her leash as if they were old friends, before producing a treat out of his pocket and saying something to her in what sounded like halfway affectionate Russian as he let her eat it out of his hand.

For a moment Sam could only stare. How could he make a heavy sweater worn over a denim shirt look so appealing? He should have been less attractive outside his usual work wear. But this much more casual look made her breath quicken, and she suddenly became hyper aware of her own heartbeat, thumping loud and fast as her entire body clenched hard with lust.

All because he’d walked the dog.

Stupid pregnancy hormones
, she muttered to herself, before forcing herself to focus on Pavel who was hanging up his anorak on a coat rack.

“So you guys took Back Up out for a walk without me? I’m so hurt,” she said to the little boy.

She was just teasing, but a stricken look came over Pavel’s face. “Don’t be angry, Mama, and I’m sorry for skipping yoga, but Dad and me had some stuff we needed to talk about.”

“Dad?” Sam asked. When had Pavel started calling Nikolai dad?

Nikolai stood. “My lawyer called. Our official court date to adopt Pavel is in two weeks, day after our ultrasound. So I tell Pavel he must decide what to call me. Fedya is his father and will always be his father, but I will be his father, too.”

“So I’m going to call him Dad, not Papa,” Pavel told her. “That way my papa in heaven won’t be mad, right?”

“Right,” Sam agreed, as her heart swelled with happiness. Pavel deserved no less than a male guardian who not only wanted to be his legal father, but his father in name, too. “That’s great. Really great. I’m glad you guys were able to come to good compromise on that.”

“Yeah, and maybe Uncle—I mean Dad, you, and me can all go to the Children’s Museum after our court date. He still hasn’t been, you know,” Pavel said. “Dad can we do that? All of us go
together
?”

Pavel put a strange amount of emphasis on the word ‘together,’ Sam noticed, and Nikolai seemed to be giving the boy a censoring look as he said, “I will talk with your mother about it on plane tonight. Right now, it is time you go become ready for school.”

“Okay,
Dad
,” Pavel agreed with a goofy grin. It was easy to tell Sam wasn’t the only one who was elated Nikolai had made his claim on Pavel official. The boy ran up the stairs to his room and Back Up, who apparently never got tired of watching Pavel do mundane things like getting dressed, quickly followed.

Sam smiled after them, her heart full of love and happiness for Pavel—but then she remembered what Nikolai had said in answer to Pavel’s question about going to the Children’s Museum.

“Wait, did you say we were going on a plane tonight?” she asked Nikolai.