The Professional: Part 2 (The Game Maker #1.2)(29)

“Are you the head vor of Paxán’s syndicate now?”

“Depends. I don’t have enough information to answer that yet.” He was starting to shut down again.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“No.”

“Any family living?” I asked.

“None.”

“What were your parents like?”

“Pass.”

“Is there anything you’ll tell me about your past? Look, I don’t need to know things you did for your job, but I want to know about your childhood.”

“Why is that so important to you?”

“I’m a historian, Sevastyan—I’m going to want to know your history.” I scrambled for another question. “When did you know what your particular interests were?”

He shrugged again. “That’s behind us.”

I murmured, “Don’t say that. You opened my eyes to all these new things”—for some reason, he flinched at that—“and now I want more. I can’t go back, Sevastyan.”

“Since you’ll be only with me, you’ll have to.” The walls were coming up.

“Don’t close me out.”

He curled his finger under my chin, all tenderness, even as he said, “How could I close you out when I never let you in?”

As he rose to dress, I recognized a harsh truth: for Sevastyan, confiding in another would be akin to stepping off the trestle.

Which meant I was falling in love with a man who would never be emotionally available to me.

Corner, meet Natalie.





Chapter 31




Pressure.

I’d felt it at Berezka, still did. But over the last week, it’d transformed into something different: the pressure of two people who wanted each other—but no longer fit each other.

Because sexually, he’d changed himself; and emotionally, he remained the same.

I sensed it building inside him, inside of me. Some precipice loomed.

This morning, I was alone in the town house yet again. Sevastyan had gotten a text about two hours ago and rushed off to some undisclosed location. Another meeting he won’t explain.

He had them daily, sometimes twice a day. I figured he was working long-distance on syndicate business.

After all, a multimillion-dollar operation had recently lost its leader, and I guessed the bulk of responsibility had fallen to Sevastyan. I could handle his long hours, but his secrecy grated on me. When would he trust me?

Maybe he was trying to shield me? Plausible deniability? If so, I knew nothing.

I was on the outside looking in, just like I’d been at Berezka. . . .

He’d taken me out to sightsee a couple of times, but his thoughts had been preoccupied, his piercing gaze assessing potential threats. Still Paris had been amazing, and I’d been able to check off dream destinations in my tourist guide.

I’d climbed the Eiffel Tower, sighed over the Arc de Triomphe, shopped for souvenirs along the Champs-élysées.

Though he was convinced the danger to me was in fact dwindling each day, he didn’t feel comfortable enough to let me go anywhere without him. So I was stuck here when he left to attend to whatever business he wouldn’t tell me about.

When I’d informed Sevastyan that I needed to go shop for a new phone, he’d brought one back for me. When I’d told him that I wanted to go out and buy more clothes, he’d simply reordered much of what I’d left behind at Berezka—garments, cosmetics, shoes, hosiery, and of course lingerie.

He’d even started buying me jewelry. “Shouldn’t I be paying for this?” I’d asked him. Shoulders gone tense, he’d replied, “You think I can’t provide for my own woman?”

Though we had a maid, a cook, a driver/butler/guard who could procure anything from a replacement birth-control patch to Le Chunky Monkey, this lap-of-luxury mansion was a gilded cage.

As usual, I was watching the feeds in the panic room, viewing Parisians going about their daily lives. This room was my favorite. I guessed I kind of liked spying on people. I’d imagine stories for their lives, speculating on what they might be talking about.

Or maybe I was just going crazy.

With a groan, I put my head in my hands. I was bound to a man who’d given me a glimpse of my true nature only to deny it. A man who wouldn’t confide in me.

A man I still didn’t know.

We were both dealing with our grief—separately—and seemed to be living satellite lives. If he was here, he was often on the phone with the mysterious Maksim. I’d overheard him saying enigmatic things like “Protect it with your life” and “She is with me.”

I’d poured my heart out to Jess about how much I missed Paxán, but Sevastyan was the only one who could truly understand. I’d even told her about Filip. Her assessment: “If he was toxic in life, he’ll still be in death. I forbid you to think about him. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Not lucky. Sevastyan had kept me alive.

Jess had also been ecstatic that Sevastyan and I had slept together. “You lost your skin tag! Now you enter into the fun stage of your life.”

“Fun?” Not so much right now. If Sevastyan and I were going to have a viable relationship, we needed to work at it. But whenever I wanted to talk about his past or his thoughts or, God forbid, his feelings, he clammed up.