Page 74 of A Vegas Crush Collection #2

hypocrites all

Zoya

Nauseous. That’s how I feel as I watch Kirill Kolochev walk toward me in baggage claim at the airport. I figured it was best to face my executioner and meet him straight away.

My father is a handsome man, his dark, curly hair clipped short, graying at the temples. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, sharply dressed in a white button-down shirt, gray slacks, and a blue suit jacket.

As handsome as he is, nothing can cover the downturn of his mouth, deepening with each step he takes toward me. My stomach is a pit of acid.

He steps toward me, pulling me into a fierce hug that belies how livid I know he must be. He pulls away, scanning my face. “Ty khorosho vyglyadush’, doch’." You look well, daughter.

“English, Papa,” I remind him.

He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and we walk along, his roller bag bumping along behind us. I call for a town car and we wait only a few minutes. Once we’re inside, though, he turns to me and says, “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I’m an adult and allowed to make my own choices.”

“You were specifically told to stay away from wild hockey boys and yet you picked the wildest of the wild to sleep with. Zoya, this is not proper behavior. It is not good for you.”

“Papa, I’m nearly twenty. I work hard in school. I don’t get in trouble. I think I can choose what is good for me.”

“Tyler Lockhardt?” he asks, giving me a face. “Really? Zoya, I did not send you here to sleep with Georg’s hockey teammates. I sent you to get an education. I gave you one strict condition and you broke it.”

“I have been focused on my education, Papa. You told me to get a tutor and I did—it just happened to be Tyler. We became friends, and then later…something more.”

“More. Meaning you slept with him. It disgusts me.”

Gritting my teeth, I look away, taking a breath to avoid lashing out. It disgusts him?

“I cannot have you sleeping around,” he continues. "I will have you to come home immediately.”

“I’m not sleeping around. I fell in love. I made love to someone I care about.” My cheeks heat as I make this admission out loud.

My father snorts. “This is not love, daughter. This is lust, and while I am not so old to forget how our hormones rage when we are young, I also thought you had more sense. I thought you would be more practical.”

“More practical than whom? Than Georg, who slept his way through three countries before settling down? Than Irina, who is smart and talented, and choosing to control her own body and choices?”

“More practical than to give yourself away to the first man who looks at you.”

A strange, choking, gasp of a laugh rattles its way up through my chest. “The first man who looks at me? Are you blind, Papa? I get looks every day, all day. I have men ask me out all the time, and I have chosen, mostly, to say no. Why? Because I’m serious about my studies, about my goals.

Because I don’t throw myself around for male attention and I never have.

Of all people, you should trust me most when I say that what I feel is real. ”

“You are only nineteen,” he argues.

“You were only a teen when you met Mama. Don’t be such a hypocrite.”

“Eto bessmyslenno,” he growls. “Why throw everything away for this one man, who will surely leave you crying?”

“Who said anything about throwing anything away?” I ask, angry tears rolling down my cheeks. “What if he adds to my life? What if he makes my life better? Happier?” And what if you taking me home to Russia is what causes me to throw everything away?”

“You are too young to understand, milaya devushka.” My father runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “He will love you and then leave you. Your head will spin and your heart will break. I know these players. I know the way they are. He will leave and you will fall apart.”

“Papa, I am so much stronger than that. I know you think I’m so young, such a child, so soft. But I’m tougher than you think.”

He makes a clucking sound. “Irina? She is tough, hard to crack. You? You have always been softer, quieter, more delicate.”

“You are too overprotective, Papa. I know who I am and what I can handle. I want to give this a shot, this thing with Tyler. And I want to finish the semester here. I want to stay. I like it here and I’m doing well, working hard.”

“This semester was a trial. I will let you stay through the semester and I will stay, too. We will stay for the final games to see your brother play, and the playoffs. After you finish your classes, we will go home for the summer to sort things out. I do not want you seeing him, though. This is not negotiable.”

“But—”

“No. This is for your own good. Tyler Lockhardt is not a part of your life, Zoya. If you want to stay here for your education, that is the rule.”

I clamp down, tears overflowing again. It’s not worth the argument.

I’ve made my case, presented my truth, and he will not listen.

My father is nothing if not resolute. I have rarely seen him change his mind about anything once a decision has been made.

The fact that he will let me stay the rest of the semester, and also consider me coming back next semester is a huge concession in and of itself.

Trying to convince him Tyler can be good for me, that he’s worth getting to know, would be futile at this point.

My heart is heavy as my phone rings, Tyler’s handsome face on the screen.

I haven’t texted him or called him since I left yesterday morning.

It’s been over twenty-four hours, and in that time, my heart has broken a million times.

He doesn’t deserve my silence. But the grief, the pain, the guilt of what Irina will feel, has taken my confidence.

This is not fair. Even if Papa is right that I “disobeyed” him, this is not right.

Please forgive me, Ty. Please know I will do everything I can to get back to you. Please know my heart is yours.

I hit “ignore,” and let my tears flow freely.