The Professional: Part 2 (The Game Maker #1.2)(12)

I nodded absently.

“This type of wolf is more likely to be a loner than other wolves. Some will roam the wilderness, hunting by themselves. But like others of their kind, they mate for life. They’re vicious yet possess an undying loyalty.”

I set down my cup. “We’re not talking about wolves, are we?”

He shook his head. “The more I think about you and Sevastyan together, the more sense it makes. Then last night, he told me the two of you had come to an understanding?” The hopefulness in Paxán’s expression killed me.

God, I didn’t want to disappoint this man. “I . . . maybe we did? But I don’t know if I feel that way now.”

“Oh. I see.” In a sad tone, he said, “Yet actions have consequences, my dear. On the bright side, your engagement could be a long one.”

Except I’d never be able to break it. I was about to hyperventilate. “But . . . but . . .” I pulled at my turtleneck, beginning to pace the room. “I don’t know him—not enough for this. I’m not saying I’d never want more with him, but I can’t just sign on for this. Not yet.”

Jess was right. Don’t do anything permanent. No lifelong commitments. These men were expecting too much from me. This was too heavy. I couldn’t be bound by this twisted mafiya logic. “Can’t I just date him? In the States, we freaking date!”

“We do here as well, unless you’re a crime boss’s daughter who’s gotten involved with his most trusted enforcer during a deadly war for territory.”

When he explained it like that . . . Damn it, I knew I’d screwed up. But that didn’t stop me from grasping for any way out. “Sevastyan and I didn’t, um, consummate anything.”

Paxán noted my panic, looking troubled in turn. “I won’t force you to make a decision you’re obviously uncomfortable with. Aleksei must have misread things with you. You shouldn’t be punished for that. But my only other option is to separate you two.”

He’d laid out an alternative, and like a drowning woman, I reached for it. “What do you mean?”

“I would need to send him from here, away from you. At least until things settle down.”

“But this is his home. He adores Berezka.”

“He has other properties,” Paxán said. “These are difficult times. We must make difficult choices.”

Difficult? Try dismal: make some kind of commitment to a man who was a mystery to me, or send him away from his home.

I felt dizzy. “I don’t want him to go.” My eyes watered. “I’m the odd one out here. I need to go.”

“Nonsense!” Paxán crossed to me to grab my shoulders. “You are my daughter! This is your home. It always will be.”

I gazed up at him, surprised by this outpouring of emotion from my buttoned-up father.

As if discomfited by his reaction, he dropped his hands, backing up a step. “Make a decision, Natalie,” he said, his voice sounding sterner than I’d ever heard it.

Nausea churned in my belly. “If I have to choose right now, this very minute . . .” So much pressure, confusion. In a rush, I said, “Then I don’t want anything permanent with Sevastyan. Send him away from here if you have to, but I can’t do this anymore!”

As soon as I said the words, I regretted them—even before I saw that Sevastyan had just crossed the threshold into the room.

He’d been smiling before he halted midstep, gorgeous lips curving over even, white teeth, his face all the more handsome for it. Something in my chest felt like it was shifting, twisting. Had he been happy to hear our voices, to join us?

I’d wiped that heartbreaking smile right off his face.

I had done that.

As comprehension hit him, the muscle in his jaw ticked. His fists clenched, his tattooed fingers going white.

Blood drained from my face, and I gasped at his expression; even Paxán took a protective step in front of me.

Because Aleksandr Sevastyan looked like he was about to do murder.





Chapter 24




Eyes narrowed and cold, Sevastyan turned to stalk from the room.

“I will discuss things with him, and all will be fine,” Paxán assured me, even as his face showed worry.

I started after Sevastyan, saying over my shoulder, “No, I need to go talk to him.” I sped through the doorway out into the gallery, trailing after him. “Just wait, Sevastyan!”

Shoulders bunched with tension, he didn’t slow. The panic I’d felt just moments before redoubled, now zooming in the other direction. What if I’d found the man who brought everything to the table? What if I’d just ruined things with him? “Sevastyan!” I followed him out the front doors onto the landing.

The last time we were here, he’d been kissing me possessively, laying claim. Now he was striding away from me, heading toward his Mercedes—to drive away. To disappear.

I rushed after him. Right when he reached his car, I grabbed his arm.

He flung it out of my grip. “What do you want?”

“You heard things . . . they were out of context.”

“Then tell me you weren’t just getting me kicked out of my own goddamned home, where I have lived for eighteen years.”

“It sounded worse than it was. And in the end I never would have allowed that.”