So Over You (Chicago Rebels #2)(50)

“Vad,” she said, her voice cracking slightly, its plaintiveness a fist around his heart.

“Thank you for coming, Mia.” And then he walked by the woman who bore him without a second glance.





SIXTEEN




“Good game tonight, Russian.”

Isobel plopped down in the seat next to Vadim, waiting for him to acknowledge her. If he didn’t want company, he should have sat on the aisle.

He pulled his earbud from his right ear, his smile like the sun had gone supernova. He raised his head to check on the rest of the flight cabin. Most everyone was asleep, but they both knew they had to be careful.

Besides, that’s not why she’d joined him. Or, not the only reason.

“Who was that woman with your sister?”

His smile faded. “No one.”

“Well, we know that’s not true. She’s your mom, isn’t she?”

He opened up his iPhone and started scrolling through the music. Isobel didn’t know much about Vadim’s relationship with his mother beyond the fact that she and Vadim’s father divorced when Vadim was ten and she moved back to the United States. When Isobel knew him as a nineteen-year-old, he didn’t speak of her much. Meaning not at all.

“You guys on the outs?”

“We have never been on the ins.”

“You and your sister are friendly. Close, even.”

His expression was dark. “She is an innocent and had no choice in this. Victoria Wallace chose to walk away from her family because motherhood was too hard.”

“Yet she raised your sister.”

His eyes sharpened to slits. “You know nothing of it. She was pregnant when she left and never told my father about his daughter. Never told me until my father died and she needed something. Do not paint her as a saint, Isobel.”

Oh. Well, that was just awful. She’d seen how he cut his mother dead at the arena, but only after that slow moment when the world seemed to stop for both of them. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened, but she clearly wants to talk to you now.”

“She can continue to want.” Dismissing her, he returned to his iPhone. “You should get some sleep now before people wake up and start gossiping.”



Five minutes later, Isobel stepped from the airplane bathroom to find a big, brooding Russian waiting outside. Two seconds after that, she found herself back in the bathroom.

The big, brooding Russian was still a big, brooding problem as he was now taking up all the space and using up all the oxygen.

“Can I help you?”

“This business with my mother, I will not answer questions about it.”

“Okay.”

“You will not use your powers of persuasion to get me to open up.”

“Got it.”

“It is in the past. My relationship with my sister is separate, and just because a child wants everyone to get along does not mean everyone should. Or can. We do not live in a fairy tale.” He folded his arms, taking up more precious space, and stared so hard she felt she might combust. At this rate, the air supply didn’t stand a chance.

Talking to someone about the thing you didn’t want to talk about was a strange strategy, but then Vadim had clearly decided that more was less. Or something.

“I can see how difficult it is for you,” she said in a neutral voice.

He gave a helpless shrug that cracked her heart a little. “It is difficult for everyone.”

She rolled her lips in to hide a smile. Empathy was the first step. He might have been referring to his sister, but if Vadim recognized that his mother was suffering as well, then there was hope for them yet.

She placed a hand on his chest. “If you want to talk about anything, I’m here.”

“As my coach.”

“As your friend.”

Heat flared in his eyes. “Last night, Bella . . .” He circled her waist and clamped a hand on her ass. “Was so fucking good.”

Flames of lust licked along her skin. “It was, but . . .” She removed his hand from her ass, which was a damn shame because she’d never found a hand to fit said ass so perfectly.

“I think we need boundaries. Sex-free boundaries.”

“If you wish me to discuss my many, many problems, it is better we do it after sex,” he said gravely. “When I am at my most vulnerable.”

She laughed. “My office door is always open for a chat with my players.” Sliding toward the exit required she rub herself against him. So she might have lingered longer than necessary, but he had started this. “And my door will stay open when you visit so you don’t get any ideas.”

“I already have ideas, Bella. They are in my head and spreading to other, more interesting parts of my body.”

Every time he called her Bella, her resistance reached for the white flag. Stay strong.

“Keep those ideas, and your body, to yourself, Russian.” She opened the door, slipped outside before anyone saw her—and ran right into Dante coming from the galley. He appeared to be much more annoyed than a GM who’d just broken a three-game losing streak should be. Was it possible he’d seen Vadim coming in after her? That’s all she needed.

She gently pulled the door shut behind her, praying that Dante didn’t need to use the facilities. “Okay there, Dante?”