Page 19 of Her Rustanov Husband (Ruthless Bullies #2)

Long Game

Yom

Yom felt and relished her dark-brown gaze on him as he left. Triumph swelled in his chest, and the urge to double back and pull her into his arms rode him all the way out the door.

But he had something special planned for today’s daily kiss.

Play the long game , he reminded himself for what had to be the hundredth time since Lydia’s arrival in the too-small apartment he’d humbled himself into living in for her sake.

His phone vibrated as he headed toward the elevator that would ferry him down to the garage. Then again, while he waited for its arrival. By the third buzz, as the doors opened, he already knew who it was.

PAVEL: Tyoma

PAVEL: Tyoma

PAVEL: TYOMA!!! ANSWER ME!!!

With an arch of his dark eyebrow, Yom pulled out his phone and typed back in English, as his former language tutor recommended doing even with fellow Russian-speaking family.

YOM: What do you want?

PAVEL: Inside intel.

PAVEL: How’s Operation GET HER BACK, JACK going?

Only Pavel called it that. But perhaps because of his triumphant morning—waking up with Lydia’s soft body in his arms after dismantling her silly pillow barrier—Yom generously texted back:

YOM: Good.

PAVEL: Can you give me something more than good? Dad’s set up a pool, and I need to know how much money to put on the line. The pots already up to a mil.

YOM: …

PAVEL: Come on, cuz. Least you can do while I’m laid up, waiting to see if this injury doesn’t just kill my season but the rest of my career. Your drama’s the only show I have now that my lil bro’s headed to divorce court.

Yom’s lip curled. He did not like that Uncle Nikolai was placing bets on his ability to win Lydia back. Or that the whole family had apparently shifted their attention to Yom’s personal life after Lex’s crash-and-burn marriage with his ice dancing partner.

But Pavel admitting to worry meant his never-serious cousin was truly afraid his off-season shoulder injury would end everything he worked so hard for in his hockey career.

Yom typed, ignoring the red grammar correction lines. If he was going to indulge Pavel, he would not bother with the exhausting work of polishing his English.

YOM: What are odds?

PAVEL: Aunties got it skewed at 70/30 you won’t last ninety days, 90/10 on a divorce before a year. Even Aunt Sirena’s betting against you. And she married Bair.

Yom considered Pavel’s words… how Lydia instinctively responded to waking up in his arms that morning… the way her eyes had lingered as he pulled on his sweatpants… then again when he walked out the door.

YOM: As my brother say: always bet on Rustanov.

PAVEL: Let’s goooo! That’s what I’m talking about! Like the Aunties don’t already know!

The elevator dinged, and Yom slipped his phone into his pocket. He found Stepan waiting outside the doors near the vending machines, his posture sharp and his expression bland as ever.

“Building and garage are clear,” he reported.

“Good.” Yom nodded once. “I will drive myself to stadium. You remain here until Rina arrives. Remind her not to let Lydia see either of you hovering.”

“She won’t.”

Yom headed for his black Maybach in the far corner of the garage—only to feel his good mood dim when his gaze snagged on the fading-yellow Mini parked beside it.

Lydia’s so-called car.

A tin can. The thought of her driving it made him itch to call Stepan and order a replacement. His zhena needed safety. A driver who could both ferry her wherever she wished and protect her if required.

But nyet . Restraint.

He opened the Maybach’s door and slid inside, mentally chanting, Long game, long game, long game.

If he wanted her to stay, he could not scare her off by seizing control too soon. He had nine days to prove he wasn’t the monster she remembered. Nine days to convince her that whatever or whomever she had waiting for her in Canada was nothing in comparison to the life he could give her.

Operation Get Her Back, Jack, as Pavel so ridiculously called it, depended on him appearing changed.

As he eased out of the garage he now shared with strangers, the Maybach’s screen lit with an incoming call. Ingrid.

The voice of the British tutor he’d decided to assign to his zayka full-time came through the speakers, bright and efficient.

“Hi, Yom. I’m about ten minutes out from picking up Lydia for her spa and shopping appointments.

I just wanted to touch base on the other matter you asked me to have Rajeev look into. ”

His grip eased on the wheel. Less than a month ago, Ingrid had been his English tutor, but he’d promoted her to Lydia’s personal coordinator for a reason.

She was discreet, and her hacker boyfriend Rajeev—after Yom smoothed away a few federal charges—had proved a useful asset with no ties to his meddling uncles.

“Rajeev couldn’t find any evidence that she has a boyfriend,” Ingrid reported.

Relief hit him like a drug, loosening a knot he hadn’t even realized he was carrying. There was no other man. She had not given herself to someone else. Not truly.

But before he could exhale fully, Ingrid continued.

“However, I also couldn’t find any evidence that she’s actually working.

Her picture’s still up on the Barrington Institute’s Guide Dog website, but Rajeev then pointed out his picture is still in a Manhattan University diversity brochure, and he graduated over four years ago. ”

Yom frowned. “You believe she switched jobs after her apprenticeship?”

“That was my first thought as well,” Ingrid said crisply. “So I telephoned the director. Merely suggesting we might consider a sizeable donation in Lydia’s name was enough to secure him at once. He spoke of her quite fondly and explained that everyone adored her….”

Ingrid paused delicately, then added, “Which is why he was rather devastated when she left after only six months to pursue another opportunity.”

“Another opportunity .” Yom’s jaw tightened as he rolled to a stop at a traffic light. The word scraped at him. Another job? Another career? Something or someone big enough to take her away from him—and keep her hidden for years?

“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? We’re not sure.

The director didn’t know, and it’s as if she disappeared from the world after that.

No mentions of her at all. Rajeev’s searched everything.

The only anchor is the Barrington Credit Union account where she’s depositing your payments.

But otherwise…” Ingrid exhaled. “It’s like she scrubbed herself off the internet. ”

Yom’s jaw tightened. Six months after their breakup… that had been around the same time his emails started bouncing back. He had assumed she’d simply grown tired of seeing his name in her inbox. Tired of ignoring his invitations.

But what if it wasn’t that? What if this mysterious “other opportunity” had taken her away from him? What if there had been another job… or another man? A man who had not taken proper care of her as Yom would have.

A memory from Vegas slammed into him, unwanted.

Have you moved on, Lydia?

Of course I have, just like you.

Her quick answer had cut him deeper than she could ever understand.

And yesterday, he had let the subject of what she needed the five million for drop, to prove to her he was not the monster she thought he was. But the question loomed now, a dark shadow rising inside him. Why would she not tell him?

Ingrid’s voice broke back through his ruminations. “We’re running into your don’t-poke-too-hard wall, Yom. Do you want Rajeev to keep digging?”

Long game, long game, long game. He hit the words again and again like a conditioning drill, pucks into the goal net. But the thought of another man, another claim on her, twisted inside him like a knife. He would not lose her to a ghost he couldn’t see.

“Keep digging,” he said. “Finances. Records. Everything.”

“Understood.” Ingrid’s tone was brisk, efficient. She did not question him further before he ended the call.

Yom’s hands flexed on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening against the black leather. The Maybach purred forward, the city blurring around him.

Nine days. He had nine days to prove to Lydia that returning to his paradise was better than anything—or anyone—waiting for her to return to Canada for her first requested block of four days off.

Lydia was his. Still. Forever.

And this time, he would not let her slip away.