“Can Uncle come with us to the Children’s Museum after school today?” Pavel asked while they walked Back Up that morning. “I don’t think he’s ever been either.”
Sam had to work not to laugh. The little boy made it sound like his uncle having never been to the Indianapolis Children’s Museum, the largest of its kind in the world, was the saddest thing he’d ever heard. “He probably has to work, honey.”
“Maybe not,” Pavel said. “The season’s almost over, and the Polar didn’t make the playoffs this year. Uncle says it’s going to take a year or two before they win another Stanley Cup cuz building a great team takes time and the right players.”
Sam had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. The “uncle says” stuff had reached a fevered pitched ever since Pavel had started spending most of his afterschool time with Nikolai.
However in this case, Pavel didn’t know the reason she was taking him to the Children’s Museum after school as opposed to on the weekend as she’d originally planned was because Isaac had sent her an email asking her to do something with the boy until five pm. Apparently, Nikolai had a meeting he had to attend during their usual practice time.
Sam had quickly agreed and tried to focus on the fact that Nikolai had been consistently spending time with Pavel up until that point, but she couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. Of all the days for him to schedule a meeting during his regular skate time with Pavel, did it have to be on the boy’s birthday?
Not that Pavel was allowing her to make much of a big deal out of him turning nine. He’d forbidden Sam to throw him a party, and the only reason he’d agreed to let her take him to the Children’s Museum on his birthday was because they already had a family membership, so it wasn’t like Pavel was giving into some silly custom.
God, she wished Nikolai hadn’t said that to him. In many ways, Pavel was thriving. He was steadily gaining weight, he’d nearly caught up in math, and he’d even made a few friends at his new school. But he still seemed truly afraid of going against his uncle in any way, abiding by all of Nikolai’s rules and personal beliefs like they were sacrosanct.
This refusal to acknowledge his birthday was not good, Sam thought as she waved the little boy off to school with Dirk later that morning. Not good at all. They should all be celebrating and thanking the heavens for him making it to the age of nine, especially after the year he’d had.
But she made herself take a calming breath. Things with Pavel were so much better than they’d been four months ago, she reminded herself. And they’d only get better with time. He had a routine and stability and she was there to look out for his best interests. Eventually everything else would fall into place, with or without Nikolai’s blessing.
She hoped.
Accompanying Pavel to the Children’s Museum gave her an excuse to take off from work early, which she almost never did on Fridays, since those could be high intake days. But Ruth’s House was currently at full capacity, and though Nyla was still in school, she was proving to be more than capable when it came to taking over in Sam’s stead.
Sam was beginning to trust her nearly as much as she’d trusted Josie back when her best friend had only been a volunteer. And that gave her a lot of peace of mind as far as her upcoming maternity leave was concerned.
Dirk arrived with Pavel to pick her up from Ruth’s House at three on the dot that afternoon. She’d told the bodyguard she could take him herself, no need for him to stay past his allotted hours, but he’d insisted. “Mr. Rustanov pays me to shadow the kid—plus, I’ve never been to the Children’s Museum and Pav says I’m missing out. Sounds like fun.”
So that was how she ended up digging for dinosaur bones, riding an indoor carousel, and exploring the Reuben Wells locomotive with Pavel and his bodyguard, who was ostensibly there to have fun but glowered at every person who came anywhere near Pavel as if they were enemy forces in disguise. Including the children, who seemed to find the bodyguard’s menacing presence fascinating. A few of the parents and caregivers, in contrast, escorted their children far away from Dirk’s “don’t even think about fucking with this kid” vibe, which seemed to suit Dirk just fine.
“You don’t look like you’re having much fun,” she said with a wry smile, as they lingered for the hourly water clock lecture in the museum’s atrium lobby. Pavel was on the floor with the other children, while she and Dirk stood off to the side with the rest of the adults.
Dirk wasn’t even pretending to listen to the many interesting details about the water clock as he scanned and rescanned the stairs and all the entrances and exits. Sam was beginning to suspect he hailed from some kind of Special Forces background, and that all this open space made him nervous.
“No, I’m having a great time,” Dirk answered. Completely monotone.
His phone made a dinging sound and it must have been important, because he actually stopped eye sweeping the lobby long enough to take a look at the text message.
“All right. We gotta get out of here,” he informed her as he re-pocketed the device.
“Excuse me?” Sam asked, thinking she must have heard him wrong.
“That was Isaac. Rustanov’s meeting’s been cancelled. If we get there in the next twenty minutes, he can still get some ice time in with Pav. You don’t mind tagging along, do you? I don’t think I can get him there in time if I have to drop you off.”
First of all Sam didn’t like the thought of Pavel having his museum trip cut short, and on his birthday no less. And second of all, she could think of about ten thousand things she’d rather do with the rest of her afternoon than watch Pavel play hockey with his uncle. But in the end, she guessed she must really love the kid because she let him decide whether they should go or not.
Pavel didn’t even take a moment to consider. “Uncle Nik,” he answered immediately. “I gotta practice my goal shots some more. Uncle says if I can get one past him, he’ll buy me a pair of Bauer Supreme MX3s.”
Sam had no idea what Bauer Supreme MX3s were, but assumed they must be ice skates and valuable ones at that if Pavel was willing to cut short his Children’s Museum trip.
Once they got to the Polar’s training facility, a concrete and red brick building with cars filling nearly all of it parking spaces, Dirk led the way.
“Isaac said to take you straight back to the Polar’s rink. Rustanov’s waiting for you there. C’mon, I’ll show you the way.”
Sam understood why Dirk thought they might need an escort when they got inside. They passed a smaller rink with children playing hockey, and a larger one with thin girls, some in workout pants, some in sparkling costumes, spinning and leaping on the ice.
“Uncle says if the baby you have after this one is a girl, he’s going to enroll her in figure skating here,” Pavel informed her. “He says Russian girls have ice skating in their blood.”
He said what now? Sam wanted to reply. The big sixteen-week ultrasound where the doctor should be able to tell the baby’s sex wasn’t for another three weeks—after the close of the Polar’s season, as if the baby had been perfectly planned to fit into Nikolai’s schedule. But the genetic screening blood test Sam took a couple of weeks ago had come back with an XY sex indicator, so it was a pretty sure bet they’d be having a boy.
But if Pavel was quoting his uncle correctly, Nikolai was already thinking about and having a second biological child with her. She couldn’t tell whether the shiver that suddenly went down her back was because she was walking through a skating facility with only a light jacket on, or because of what Pavel said. Or because the thought of having another child with Nikolai, a little girl with his strong resolve, didn’t exactly repel her.
Pavel came to an abrupt stop. “He’s not here,” he said, his shoulders slumping with disappointment.
Indeed, the rink they were apparently headed toward was completely dark behind the plexiglas windows.
Sam frowned but kept her voice reassuring as she rubbed the little boy’s back. “Maybe he’s still in his of
fice.” She pulled out her phone. “I’ll text Isaac.”
But Dirk kept walking and beckoned them forward. “Isaac said to meet him here at 5:00 PM on the D.O.T. It’s 4:59 PM and I’m not getting in trouble because I missed the drop off.”
Dirk’s insistence on getting to the darkened rink on time surprised Sam. He was usually pretty flexible, but she supposed that was because she and Pavel were almost always where they were supposed be, when they were supposed to be for “the drop off.”
Irritated, but not wanting to cause Pavel’s bodyguard any unnecessary stress, she put a hand on Pavel’s back and guided him forward.
“It’s okay,” she assured him. “He’ll probably be here soon, and we can just wait for him in the—”
Dirk flipped the lights on to reveal a large rink filled with smiling people. Many of whom she recognized as classmates of Pavel’s and their parents. There were also a couple of guys in full-on hockey gear, including a long-haired blond she’d seen on a few Polar’s posters. One of their star players, if she recalled correctly.
“SURPRISE!!!” they all yelled in unison.
It was a birthday party, Sam realized then. A birthday party for Pavel, who was just standing there beside her, frozen in shock.
Until his Uncle, who’d been standing in the middle of the crowd, skated forward and beckoned him forward with a solemn “Happy Birthday, Pavel.”
After that, Sam knew for sure what she’d only suspected before. All Pavel’s talk about not wanting a party had been a bunch of hooey. And it was totally disproved when he didn’t just walk, but flew across the ice towards his uncle, hugging him around the waist so hard, it was a wonder Nikolai was able to stay balanced on his skates.
At first Sam thought Pavel was laughing with delight when he buried his face in Nikolai’s side and his shoulders started shaking, but then there came a sound. A ragged keening that could not in any way be mistaken for laughter. Pavel was crying, she realized, crying so hard his whole body convulsed with it.
The rink grew quiet and for a moment, the only sound that could be heard was that of Pavel’s wild sobs, which were obviously about so much more than being surprised with a birthday party. Nikolai looked up at her, a heavy frown on his face, as if he blamed her for this unexpected response.
“Pavel, stop this,” he said to the boy. “Stop this now.”
Sam came forward, prepared to intervene so Nikolai wouldn’t make him feel ashamed about crying.
But then Nikolai gently patted the overcome boy on the back. “Come Pavel. It is time to stop crying,” he said quietly. “We all came here for you. Come, take your party.”
To Sam’s surprise, Pavel let his uncle out of the fierce clutch, sniffled once, and then did just that. Skating off to joining his cheering friends who seemed more than willing to overlook a little crying if it meant skating on the Polar’s ice rink with a few of the team’s players, no less.
She turned her gaze back to Nikolai and saw he was watching her watch Pavel finally get the party he deserved with a satisfied smirk in his eyes. And she wondered if he’d done this for Pavel. Or just to prove her wrong.
Either way, she couldn’t begrudge him the results. Pavel was flipping out, especially when the long-haired blond skated over to him with a pair of slick black skates, which from Pavel’s jumping up and down action, she could only assume were the coveted Bauer’s Pavel had mentioned earlier.
No doubt about it, whatever Nikolai’s true intentions, he’d made Pavel the happiest boy on earth. And she couldn’t help the warm feeling that erupted inside her chest, despite the smirking look he was giving her.
In fact, she wondered if she was ever going to figure out how to dislike Nikolai Rustanov as much as her good sense told her she should if she didn’t want to get hurt.
30
“They get along,” Nikolai’s cousin, Alexei, observed as they watched Pavel and Alexei’s son, Aaron, take part in a shooting drill game. It involved the Polar’s star left winger, Brian Atwood, who was acting as goalie.
Aaron was a couple years older than Pavel, but anyone who saw them together at the party likely assumed the light brown boys had known each other forever, the way they talked trash and encouraged each other during the drills in equal parts.
“Da,” Nikolai agreed.
At that moment, Pavel got a shot past Brian—most likely because he was the birthday boy and Brian was trying to get back into Nikolai’s good graces, so that he wouldn’t go through with his threat to trade him to the worst team in the league.
But Aaron treated it like a great feat, dropping his own stick and yelling, “Yeah, cuz! That’s how us Russians do! Act like you know!”
Then he began chanting, “Russia! Russia! Russia!”
Pavel’s classmates, who were still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that there were not one but two biracial half-Russians at this birthday party, stared.
And Alexei’s mouth twitched, his eyes glimmering with amusement, as explained, “The boy takes after his mother.”
Nikolai’s own mouth twitched as he looked to the other side of the rink where Eva was standing with Samantha. The two women had started talking shortly after the cake had been served and much like Pavel and Aaron, they’d immediately hit it off. A half an hour later, they were still chatting away.
Nikolai wasn’t surprised. His wife and the Texan who, much to Nikolai’s consternation, insisted on calling him Nikki and his nephew Pavvy, had a lot in common beyond the color of their skin. Including backgrounds in social work, gregarious spirits, and Russian husbands. Of course they had decided to become instant best friends.
His wife had a way of immediately connecting with other women, Nikolai noted. That was probably what made her so good at her job. It also didn’t hurt that she seemed to have a warm smile for everyone she met.
At least everyone but him, he thought, his mind darkening.
“So you married the woman in the green dress,” his cousin said beside him. His eyes stayed on the two half-Russian boys on the ice, but his voice took on a certain chill. “Yet you did not invite your favorite cousin to the wedding. Only to this child’s birthday party.”
“Our wedding was small and quick. This party is much more important. It was time for Pavel to meet you and your family.”
“More important than your wedding? Hmmm,” Alexei chewed on that for a moment and Nikolai felt himself tense up. But then Alexei smoothly continued, “Aaron is glad to have another boy on the American side of the Rustanov family, so we appreciate the invitation to Pavel’s birthday.”
Nikolai had always liked and respected his cousin, but his easy acceptance of Pavel as an official Rustanov, despite the fact that he had no official blood ties to their family, made Nikolai admire him that much more.
“Pavel feels the same, I am sure,” Nikolai answered in Russian.
They stood there for a few moments, watching Aaron and Pavel play with matching fondness, but then Alexei opened his mouth again and totally ruined the moment.
“How far along is she?” he asked Nikolai.
Nikolai respected Alexei too much to pretend he didn’t know what he was talking about, even though he’d never told his cousin Samantha was pregnant.
“Twelve weeks,” he answered. “The blood test says it will be a boy.”
Alexei nodded and said, “Pozdravlyayu.”
Congratulations in Russian.
“Spasibo,” Nikolai answered, hoping that would be the end of this line of conversation.
But after a few moments of thoughtful silence, his cousin said, “Did you get this woman pregnant on purpose?”
Nikolai’s chin dipped low in embarrassment and growing anger, but he answered his cousin truthfully. “Of course not on purpose. It was a surprise. You know I did not want children.”
Alexei tilted his head to the side and gave his cousin another thoughtful look. “I told my Eva I did not want children. I told her this from the start.”
“So you u
nderstand,” Nikolai said.
“I told her this, but then I made her pregnant. It was also a surprise. A surprise I have never had with another woman.”
Nikolai who was already well acquainted with Alexei and Eva’s dramatic back story, pursed his lips and asked, “What is your point?”
“I did not like growing up in the Rustanov family. The constant danger, the bodyguards, all the killing. It colored the way I saw the world, and I would not wish that for my children. That is why I refused to have any. But maybe Eva changed my mind, without me knowing it.”
Alexei continued to watch the children skating, but his eyes were in a faraway place as he said, “I did not like growing up a Rustanov, but at least my parents were kind to me. At least they showed me what it was for two people to love each other. That helped.”
Nikolai didn’t reply this time. It was the first time his cousin had ever alluded to the difficulties of growing up a Russian mafia scion, and though Nikolai respected his cousin for turning the Rustanovs into a legitimate business family, he still found it hard to see things from Alexei’s perspective.
Back then, Alexei’s life had seemed perfect, a Russian version of a Norman Rockwell painting. His parents doted on him, and gave him good memories of them to carry forward even after their untimely deaths. It was the complete opposite of how Nikolai had grown up, making it difficult for him on the few occasions his father had brought him to the Rustanov’s palatial estate in Rublevka.
Alexei regarded him with a sad smile. “I will make a confession to you now. Your father scared me as a little boy, and also as a young man. I often took solace in the fact that he was only my uncle, and I felt very sorry for you and Fedya, especially after what happened with your mother. Even sorrier now, because Fedya did not make it.”
Nikolai flinched, Alexei words a sharp knife twisting in his gut. He’d always suspected his cousin regarded him as an object of pity, that finally accepting him into the Rustanov family was an act of pity, and now here was his confirmation.
HER RUSSIAN SURRENDER Page 19
