The Long Game (Game Changers #6)(96)

“It does not,” she said sharply.

“I’ve been...a bit closed off, since I moved to Ottawa.”

“What does that mean? You’re not sleeping your way through North America anymore?”

Ilya huffed a laugh. “No. Not anymore.”

The server brought their martinis. Ilya had never been so happy to see a cocktail.

“What a loss to women everywhere,” Svetlana said dryly.

“Hopefully they can get over it.” Ilya sipped his martini, which was perfectly cold and crisp. “How have you been? Where are you working?”

“I finished my MBA.” She smiled. “I have been offered a job by the Boston Bears.”

“Perfect!” Svetlana knew more about hockey than anyone. More than Shane. Possibly more than Yuna. “You’re going to take it?”

“I think so. They’re excited to have Sergei Vetrov’s daughter working for them.” Vetrov had been a superstar for Boston in the ’90s.

“And what does Sergei think?”

“That I am a princess who should get whatever I want. We have that in common.”

Ilya laughed. “Were you at the game today?”

“Yes. You couldn’t hear me booing you?”

“Not over everyone else booing me. Boston hates me now.”

“Of course we do. You left.”

And that could be a segue into why he left, but he was struggling to make himself bring it up. Shane knew about and supported Ilya’s decision to tell Svetlana about their relationship, and Ilya knew he could trust her, but finding the words was difficult.

Instead, he picked up the menu beside him. “What’s good here?”

Svetlana reached across the table and pushed his menu down with one beautifully manicured finger. “Why did you sign with Ottawa, Ilya?” she asked in her usual blunt way. “I have never understood it. No one does.”

Ilya took his time answering. “To be closer to someone.” Then, like a coward, he took another sip of his drink.

Svetlana’s vivid blue eyes widened. “Someone? Like, someone you are dating? Are you actually with someone? In a real relationship?”

“Yes.”

Her face lit up. “My god. She must be spectacular. Who is it? Where did you meet? In Ottawa? Is she Russian?”

The server returned to take their orders. “We need more time,” Svetlana said, not unkindly, but a bit impatiently.

The server left with a polite, “Of course.”

Svetlana rested one elbow on the table and tapped her red fingernails against her red lips. “Why have I never heard of you dating someone? Is it a secret?”

“You are asking a lot of questions.”

“Answer the last one first.”

“We should look at the menu—”

“Ilya.”

Under the table, Ilya’s fingers flexed against his dress pants. “Yes, it’s a secret.”

“This is intriguing. Are you having an affair? Is it a teammate’s wife?”

“No,” Ilya said quickly, slightly offended. “Nothing like that. Of course not.”

“Didn’t you tell me once you’d slept with your teammate’s girlfriend? Back in Moscow?”

“Yes, but he was an asshole to her, and also I was seventeen. I would never do that now.”

Svetlana hummed thoughtfully. “It’s a secret, but it’s not an affair. Maybe your coach’s daughter?”

“My coach’s daughter is eleven.”

“The owner’s daughter, then. Or is it the owner? Isn’t one of the owners of the Centaurs a woman?”

“It’s not the owner.”

She smiled over the rim of her martini glass. “This is a fun game. I like this.” Suddenly her eyes went wide. She leaned forward and whispered, “Is it a man?”

Well. That hadn’t taken long. Ilya answered with the slightest tip of his head as he brought his glass to his lips.

Svetlana covered her mouth with one hand, eyes still wide. He could tell she was smiling, though.

“Ilya,” she finally said. “Holy shit.”

“Yes.”

She grinned wickedly at him. “Did you fuck every woman in Canada and had to move on to men?”

Ilya rolled his eyes. “That’s not how it works.”

“So who is he?”

Ilya’s cheeks heated, which he hoped wasn’t noticeable in the dim lighting of the restaurant.

“You’re blushing,” Svetlana said, delighted. “Ilya Rozanov, are you in love?”

Ilya couldn’t stop the smile that crept across his face. “Extremely.”

The server came back then, so Ilya and Svetlana both hastily looked at the menu and ordered. Ilya wasn’t entirely sure what he’d chosen, but it had scallops, so it couldn’t be terrible.

“Anyway,” Ilya said casually, after the server had left, “how’s your father doing?”

“Fuck you, Rozanov,” Svetlana said. “As if we’re not still talking about you falling in love with a man.”

“Is it that interesting?”

“Who is he?”

Ilya glanced sideways. “You don’t know him.”