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“When?”
“Within twenty-four hours, apparently.”
“Should I arrange a moving van?”
“No.”
“Do you want to go right now?”
“No. But I don’t have a choice. Fucking typical.” I bit the tip of my tongue, forcibly silencing myself.
Ilya nodded and pulled out into traffic, heading north. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I sighed. Even if I wanted to, I had no idea where to start. It was the story of my life, really. No matter what I did, I was a fucking disappointment, to my father most of all. The only time he felt like communicating was whenhedictated how things were going to unfold. The fact I deferred Georgetown for a year guaranteed me months of silence until today of all fucking days when I was already on the verge of snapping.
There had been zero concern for my wellbeing after the brutal attack I barely fucking survived. No questions about my whereabouts in the weeks afterward. Mom at least checked in every once in a while, though she had no idea I was living with Sasha. Hell, she didn’t even know who Sashawas. For all she knew, I could have been couch-surfing on the North Side or sleeping on fucking park benches. The only people in my life who knew about my sort-of boyfriend and the extent of my injuries were the Starlings and Misha, probably. Misha seemed to know everything.
I gave Ilya a side-eye as he drove. Maybe he knew about it too. But then again, Sasha was pretty paranoid about any Russian other than Misha seeing us together, so I doubted it. Unless Misha told his nephew…
“How much did he tell you about me? This… job?” I asked once we were on the tollway.
Ilya shot me a look out of the corner of his eye. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t know if Sasha told you why he wants me to have a bodyguard.”
“He’s a dangerous man from a dangerous world. He wants to keep you safe,” Ilya replied with a shrug, as if the answer was painfully obvious.
“He blames himself for me almost dying a few months ago,” I said, picking at a piece of lint on my knee. “It wasn’t his fault,at all. But he won’t let it go.”
“He loves you. How do you expect him to let it go?”
My head whipped up in his direction, eyes wide. “He told you that?”
“You think a man like him would confess something like that to a total stranger?” Ilya chuckled. “No. But, I’m not blind.”
“So you don’t care that I’m gay?” It might have been a risk to blurt it out like that, but he clearly wasn’t dumb.
He rolled his eyes. “Do you care that I’m straight?”
“No, but it’s not exactly the same thing.”
“No, I suppose not. But I love my uncle. I can’t exactly turn around and hate you. I’m not a hypocrite.”
“Misha’s gay?!” My jaw about hit my lap.
His blond brows lifted. “I thought you knew?”
I shook my head. Although, things made a hell of a lot more sense in hindsight.
After that whopper of an icebreaker was out of the way, the rest of the conversation flowed easily. Since Ilya had a whole report to read on me, he happily gave me the rundown on his own background. The amount of talking he did, in and of itself, was impressive considering how standoffish the rest of the Russians were with me.
Unlike Sasha, Ilya came to the States voluntarily at an equally young age. After Ilya’s father was killed in some hostage situation, Misha essentially took over in his brother’s place. He arranged for Ilya and his mother to make the international move and once he left the Russian special forces, Misha came to America as well. How or why he made the leap from military to mafia was a mystery, even to Ilya.
Ilya’s mostly-American upbringing probably explained why he was so laid back, at least compared to Sasha. Ilya was quick to laugh or smile when it suited him, but he could turn stoic as fast as the rest of them. His accent wasn’t as thick as the others, but it was still there, especially when he said certain words, like “water.”
Not surprisingly, he worked for his uncle doing God knew what until Sasha came along with a “better” offer — though we still disagreed on the meaning of better. He insisted it was a promotion. I maintained he needed a CT scan or something.
“You know he’s not a very nice boss, right?” I said, in case he wassomehowunaware of Sasha’s volatile temper.
