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.
31
THE 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.
32
YES, he did say that. As it turned out, they’d be flying overnight to Nikolai’s event on Thursday, spending the whole weekend wherever it was, and arriving back in Indianapolis late Sunday night. That meant she’d be spending two whole nights and two whole days with Nikolai. The man she’d sworn to stay as far away from as possible now that her pregnancy hormones were out of control and practically begging her to do things she really shouldn’t. With a man who’d straight up told her he didn’t believe in love.
With true dread in her heart, she stepped out on the porch of Ruth’s House after wrapping things up at work, awaiting the arrival of Nikolai who’d said he’d be picking her up himself.
To her surprise, though, when she got outside, she found Marco walking up the sidewalk towards the house instead of Nikolai.
She frowned. She’d gotten use to seeing Marco on rotation again—Nikolai had kept his promise. But ever since the news of her and Nikolai’s marriage and impending baby had hit the wires, things between them had been—well, awkward to say the least.
But here he was now, coming up the walk in his civilian clothes, nice slacks, and polo shirt. And he had flowers in his hand. Even more unexpected, he was walking in from the street and not from the side of the house.
“You parked on the street?” she asked him.
“Yeah,” he answered, stopping at the bottom of the steps. “Nyla kept giving me a hard time about parking behind Ruth’s House, so…”
He didn’t finish, just held up the flowers. “Um, is she here?”
Sam blinked. “Who? Nyla?”
“Yeah,” Marco answered, suddenly taking a huge interest in the sidewalk. “Last time I was here, she said she had finals coming up and I thought I’d bring her these. Like, you know, to say good luck.”
Normally Sam would have treated this news with extreme sensitivity, but this was Marco. And Nyla.
“Wait, you’re bringing Nyla flowers? Nyla Weathers? The one with all the piercings in her ears—and face?”
Marco looked everywhere but at her, and Sam had a feeling he’d be beet red if not for his olive skin tone. “Yeah, it’s not a big deal, Sam. The earrings come out. I think.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “But we have some things in common.”
“Things like what?” Sam asked, honestly curious.
Marco shifted. “Things like Death Buddha,” he answered, referencing the weird metal band Nyla had spent a year following around the country before she’d decided to be a grown up and go to grad school. “We’re both big fans and they’ve got a show coming up. I was thinking we could go together. I was thinking maybe I’d ask her about that tonight.”
He peeked up at her, “Think I should?”
Sam had to fight hard to control her laughter. Yes, she thought. This made a certain kind of sense. Marco, so loyal to his hood he insisted on staying on his beat after Nikolai had tried to get him kicked off of it. And Nyla, who Sam had complete trust would run the shelter well while she was away on maternity leave.
Suddenly Nyla’s generous offers to deal with Marco’s daily visits so Sam wouldn’t have to didn’t seem quite as altruistic as they had before.
“Actually, I think you should,” she said to Marco, happy to give the new couple her blessing. “But Nyla’s not here. She’s studying. Her last final is tomorrow, then she’s babysitting for me on Friday.”
Marco grimaced. “Oh…”
It was easy to tell in that moment that Marco had spent some time working up the courage to come over here and ask Nyla out.
“I guess I’ll try again on Monday,” he said.
“Yeah, Monday.”
In the distance, Nikolai’s Escalade pulled up and Sam said, “I’ve gotta go.”
Marco looked over his shoulder at the Escalade. “Yeah, I guess you do. Thanks for the talk, Sammy.”
“No problem,” she said. She came down the steps, prepared to walk past him, but at the last minute she said, “I can’t give you Nyla’s address…”
“I know,” he answered. “I can always look her up in the database—”
“No, you can’t, because girls like us consider guys showing up unannounced stressful and creepy,” she said. “I should have told you that before.”
And Marco looked down again. “Yeah. I guess that could come off kind of wrong.”
“But I can text you her number,” Sam told him. “And maybe you can text her, offer to bring her by something to eat. I remember being where she is right now, and getting food was a total hassle.”
Marco smiled. “That’s a great idea.”
“If she takes you up on your invitation, then you’ve got a green light to ask her out. If not, you should probably back down. So, do you still want her number?”
Marco looked from side to side like he was trying to decide between the blue and the red pill. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah, I do.”
So that was how Sam ended up keeping her fake husband waiting while she sent her ex-almost boyfriend her soon-to-be assistant director’s number. Then of course she had to wait to see how it turned out.
Marco sent the text and less than a minute later, he grinned as he read out loud. “’Dude, you’re saving my life. How soon can you get over here with a burger?’”
Sam clapped her hands, truly happy for him and for Nyla.
Marco shook his head. “I’m just happy she asked for a burger. I was worried she’d be one of those vegetarians, and I’m already going to have a hard time explaining all the face jewelry to my mom if we start dating.”
Marco escorted Sam to the Escalade where Nikolai still sat, waiting.
“Hey, Mount Nik,” he said, acknowledging Nikolai with a small wave before continuing on down the street towards his own car.
Nikolai didn’t return the greeting and Sam noticed that his hands were gripped so tight around the Escalade’s wheel, his knuckles were white. But he hadn’t gotten out of the car, hadn’t yanked her out of the conversation with Marco. And Nikolai didn’t make any attempt to follow Marco as he climbed into his vintage Mustang.<
br />
Progress, Sam thought to herself as she climbed into the passenger seat, which she supposed was why she decided to tell him...
“You’ll never believe this... I was helping Marco set up a date with Nyla! How wild is that?” Then she rushed on with, “I hope I didn’t make us late for the flight.”
The only indication he’d registered what she’d said about Marco and Nyla was that his hands visibly loosened on the wheel.
“No,” Nikolai answered, his voice completely casual. “Plane will wait.”
* * *
The plane turned out to be not a commercial airliner, but a private jet with RUSTANOV ENTERPRISES painted across the side in large black letters.
“A late wedding gift from my cousin,” Nikolai explained while she gaped at the jet awaiting them in a hangar behind Indianapolis International Airport.
“Is that where we’re going?” she asked, as they walked up the air stairs to the plane’s main entry door. “To Texas? To an event for your cousin?”
“No,” Nikolai answered. And that was all he said.
Sam opened her mouth to once again try to extract some answers other than “you will see” and “no” to her questions, but her thoughts trailed off when she saw the inside of the plane.
The front quarter-half of the cabin was taken up by sumptuous, side-by-side leather seats like those she’d seen in the first class section of the commercial airplanes she’d flown. But instead of seats, the other side of the plane was taken up by a conference table and a thin couch. That seating area, Sam noticed, was just wide enough to sit on—but not wide enough to stretch out on without fear of rolling off in the middle of the night.
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