Molotov Obsession

Chapter 8

8

NIKOLAI

“So, tell me, brother… Did you acquire her for Slava or yourself?”

I pause in the middle of putting on my cufflinks and turn around to meet Alina’s coolly mocking gaze. “Does it matter?” I have no idea how she sniffed out my interest in our new hire, but I’m not surprised.

My sister has always been able to read me better than anyone.

She leans against the doorframe of my walk-in closet, where I’m changing for dinner. “I guess I should’ve expected it. She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

“Very.” I deliberately turn my back to her. Alina lives to get a rise out of me, but she’s not going to succeed tonight. Nor is she going to shame me into staying away from Chloe.

The girl intrigues me too much for that.

“You know she spent the entire afternoon with Slava, right?” Alina strolls deeper 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 f**k 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.