Page 23 of The Allure of Ruins

H e objected to shaving. He complained about putting on his tuxedo shirt and the cuff links. He expressed his anger toward the stupid knee-high socks and the even stupider shiny patent dress shoes with the slick bottoms that were going to kill him in the snow.

“But you’re gorgeous,” I praised him when he was standing in front of me a good hour later. “You cut a very dashing figure, Mr. Gates.”

“You look beautiful in yours,” he said with a sigh. “I remember when we bought it and you came out of the fitting room; I nearly fell out of the chair.”

I smiled at him.

“And then you were asking me questions, and I couldn’t get my voice to work.”

“You’re very sweet,” I praised him, stepping in close and slipping my hand around the side of his neck to draw him down for a kiss.

His lips melted over mine, and in moments, I had both arms wrapped around his neck and his had me clutched tight against him.

When I broke the kiss, I noted the scowl and smiled. “We have to go.”

“Or…” he began with that lethal smile of his that made his golden eyes sparkle, “we could go wreck the bed a second time.”

“I just made that bed, and?—”

“I don’t care. I’ve got lots of fitted sheets and flat sheets and pillowcases and everything else you made me buy. Even a duvet, which I still don’t know what that is or where it goes.”

I slipped out of his arms and headed for the door. “The sooner we go, the sooner we can get home. We’ll get pizza on the way back, and I’ll attack you and make you scream so?—”

“I don’t need the pizza,” he let me know. “But I would very much like to be attacked, please.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Then let’s go.”

“Or…” he said, purposely beginning his argument the same way, like he did when he was in court, when he was driving a point home, “we could have the attacking now and forget about the?—”

“Now,” I ordered, putting on my cashmere scarf and reaching for my trench coat.

He was there fast, bumping me gently, taking my coat off the hook by the door, holding it for me so I could slide in one arm and then the other. “You need a hat. It’s snowing outside.”

“I don’t have a hat that matches, and I refuse to wear the ugly one with the big red pom-pom. We’ll get one this week.”

“No one will see it,” he muttered as he did what he always did and pulled the black hat in question off the hook and down over my head. “You’ll take it off in the coatroom. But you’re not getting pneumonia on my watch simply because you think my hat is ugly.”

“Why do I even bother doing my hair?”

He ignored me. “And you’re getting gloves too. You don’t need to be afraid of them anymore.”

I arched a brow that I hoped conveyed how ridiculous he sounded. “I am not afraid of gloves .”

“You’re being obtuse on purpose. You know what I mean,” he apprised me. “You’ll never be in a situation where not having full use of your hands will be a bad thing.”

“You can’t say that for––”

His eyes met mine. “Yes, I can. I will always be with you. I have been since we met, but it’s more now.”

Yes, it was. “Okay,” I said, lifting for a kiss.

He glared at me.

“Kiss. Now.”

“You’re making me go out when all I wanna do is lie on the couch and watch TV.”

“I thought we were going to fool around again.”

“I want that too, so much,” he croaked out. “But I want to snuggle up and watch movies with you.”

“Under a blanket, with the fire going.”

He whimpered, and it was adorable.

“You have to go be charming,” I said firmly, moving to the hook on the wall and grabbing his wool and cashmere trench coat that looked amazing on him. “Let’s go already.”

A more unhappy man, albeit a stunning one, I had never seen. I also had no idea that one could put a scarf on so angrily. I was laughing as he opened the door.

It never occurred to me for even a moment that Erast Antonov could be there in the hallway—especially since he was supposedly dead.

“What is the cop even doing out there?” I yelled at Colton, gesturing at Erast, who was holding a gun. “How is he missing this man coming?—”

“This isn’t him,” Colton said, stepping in front of me so that if the gun went off, it would hit him, not me. “I saw pictures, and—it’s not.”

“What’re you talking about?”

He gestured at Erast.

I understood instantly. “Oh, no. You’re right. This isn’t Genrikh Antonov.”

“Okay,” Colton replied like this was normal, us chatting casually in front of a man who could shoot us both dead. “Good. I thought I was going nuts for a second.”

“No,” I said, moving so I was shielding Colton. “This is his cousin Erast.”

Colton stared at him. “No shit?”

Erast smiled slowly. While not an ugly man, he was not in the same league as his cousin, who embodied what a thousand-year-old vampire would look like. Beautiful and sexy, sleek and nearly flawless, with pale skin and dark eyes.

“Tell us the story,” I ordered Erast.

He glanced at me, then at Colton, who crossed his arms, following my lead, taking his cues from me the same way I did from him when the roles were reversed. We would not be alarmed, and there would be no yelling. Again, this was us, as we always were.

“You realize I have a gun and I’m going to murder you if you don’t tell me where the diamonds are,” Erast informed me.

“What diamonds?” I snapped at him. “Seriously, I’m so sick of being asked about goddamn diamonds I never saw. That day when you got all snarly with me and said, Oh, we’ll see when Gen pulls the surveillance footage and—” I stopped because I needed to know.

“And?” he prodded me.

“You’re here. Gen is not. Is he dead?”

He took a breath. “No. Last week he called up that fucking widow—you remember, the one from Bosnia and Herzegovina—and after all this time, she flew into New York on her private jet, picked him up, and that’s it. He’s done. Living the rest of his life as a kept man.”

It was sort of poetic. She had all the power, Gen had none. Because yes, he’d live the rest of his life carefree, but how much of his heart and soul would that choice eat?

“Why didn’t he come to ask me about the diamonds?”

“I have no idea,” he said irritably, starting to pace. “We came together, and I always have to travel in a stupid disguise because I’m supposed to be dead, and it’s fuckin’ cold here. What the fuck? How long does it stay like this?”

“I thought these guys were Russian?” Colton asked me.

“Yeah, but they were all born in Southern California, except for Csokas and Rokov, I think.”

“That’s correct,” Erast confirmed, sounding dejected, almost sad.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

Because I’d been scared for Colton and worried for me about how I would handle seeing Gen again.

But now it was Erast, and I was just annoyed.

Plus, he sounded petulant, which was grating.

“Did you want an heiress to come whisk you away?”

“That’s your problem, all of you, all the house entertainment. You always thought I was jealous of Gen, and I wasn’t.”

“Gen was the one with the beauty and the charm,” I made clear. “He was the one who went out, found people, seduced us, then turned us out.”

“That last part isn’t exactly true. You weren’t walking the streets. He kept you all in that fucking mansion you put an end to when you left.”

“I’m all torn up about that.”

“You know that time you were kidnapped by those guys Gen gave you to, I told him not to bother getting you back, you were damaged goods at that point.”

“Makes sense,” I agreed, not about to argue with him.

“Plus, I was sure you’d never be the same. His spell was broken. You were gullible but not stupid.”

Colton moved toward him, but Erast lifted the Glock 17 and pointed it at him. “Don’t do anything foolish, boyfriend. The past is the past. Who cares?”

“That’s actually right,” I said to Colton, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my face to his chest.

“Wait, boyfriend?” Colton asked Erast.

“Yeah, of course. As I said to you, Gen and I were here for a week, watching Pax, seeing if he was living life off stolen stones, but he’s not, and all we could see was his assistant job, and we didn’t get it.

Then Gen, he goes out by himself and follows you around after work one night, and when he came back to the hotel, he seemed sad.

When I asked what was wrong, he said he knew you were happy.

He said you looked good, healthy, different, and he went on and on about the spark in your eyes or the spark being back in your eyes.

I don’t know. I wasn’t really listening.

But I think he was hoping you had the diamonds and that you might consider taking him back if you did. ”

“So if Pax had them, Mr. Antonov would’ve considered staying because Pax would be rich. But as Pax doesn’t have them, calling the widow was his best bet.”

“Yeah.”

Colton nodded. “He’s all heart.”

“Gen also suggested that if I wanted to know definitively if you had the diamonds,” he said to me before pointing the gun at Colton, “then I should threaten your boyfriend because you really love him.”

“Your cousin thinks Pax really loves me?” Colton asked Erast.

“What?” Erast sounded annoyed.

“Never mind him,” I said quickly, wanting Erast’s focus on me. “Let’s talk about the diamonds.”

“Yes,” Erast replied, seemingly unsure of Colton, holding the gun on him instead of me. “Gen swore Pax is crazy about you. He said that even before he fucked up, Pax never smiled at him the way he smiles at you.”

Colton was suddenly grinning, clearly so very pleased.

“You are not at all focused on the task at hand,” I assured him.

“I knew you loved me,” he said smugly.

“I told you I loved you,” I reminded him, shaking my head.

“Yes, but outside confirmation is always good.”

“Why are neither of you scared of this gun?” he roared. “I’ve killed people before. Tell him I have!” he demanded, rounding on me.

The second Erast turned his attention to me, Colton grabbed hold of his coat, yanked him off-balance, knocked the gun away, then punched him squarely in the jaw. He went down hard, that fast, out cold.

“Ohmygod, don’t you ever do that again!” I yelled at him.

“Don’t do what? Punch a guy for sharing something horrible that happened to you and then saying yeah, I said you weren’t worth saving because you were damaged goods?”

“You were upset about that?”

“I want to throw him off my balcony for that,” he said, reaching for me, wrapping me in his arms, and holding me tight. “And for the record, you’re not damaged. You’re amazing.”

I smiled into his shoulder. “As long as you think so, I’m happy.”

“Good.”

I cleared my throat. “May I ask though, why you would throw him off the balcony? Why not simply shoot him?”

“Because we’d be cleaning up for hours, and I have other plans.”

I hugged him. “Your interest in me is very flattering.”

“It’s not interest. It’s love. Say it.”

“It’s love,” I repeated, lifting for a kiss that he quickly gave me.

Later we found out that the patrol officers downstairs had left without waiting for their relief—it was the weekend, Sunday night, so they were supposed to be there all day—so I suspected that SAC Calhoun was going to murder someone in the police department.

He seemed to like me and Colton, so I was guessing he was going to let someone know.

Once the police came and collected Erast and the gun, we gave our statements to two different officers, and by the time that was done, it was much too late to go to the very fancy party downtown.

Colton called Mr. Somerset to let him know we’d been waylaid by a Russian mobster and he could check with the police if he didn’t believe him.

Colton was smiling as he hung up.

“Did he believe you?”

“Of course he believed me, and what a perfect reason that was for blowing off a black-tie event. If I didn’t hate that guy Erast so much, I’d thank him.”

“You don’t need to hate him. That’s all over now.”

“Still hate ’em.”

Once we hung our coats up and I got to take off the stupid hat, I turned and hugged him. Hands on my face, he tilted my chin up for a kiss.

“I could get used to this,” I murmured.

“That’s good. You should.”

I crossed the room then and flipped on the table lamp to the left of the fireplace.

“Wow,” he said, looking at the lights reflected all over the room as though I’d hung up a disco ball. “What is that?”

“I got this for you at Christmas, don’t you remember?”

“I recall the base part having blue marbles in it or something. Am I remembering that right?”

“Yes, you are.”

“The clear is much better, and all that refraction is really…very…beau—nooo,” he drew out the word, mouth open in awe.

I waggled my eyebrows at him, and he darted into the living room, stopping beside me to stare down at the stones that filled the piece. When lit by the soft white bulb, it made the entire room appear magical.

“How long have I had a three-million-dollar lamp?”

“It’s not a three-million-dollar lamp.” I was indignant.

“No, you’re right, how stupid of me,” he teased, smiling. “It’s a three-million-fifty-dollar lamp.”

“I’ll have you know it was more than fifty bucks. I like you more than that.”

He nodded. “Well, you better stay here and keep track of your fortune.”

“I trust you, as you can plainly see.”

“Well, regardless, you better stick around so together we can find a nice house to move into that will be warm and cozy for you.”

“A home for me?”

“Yes. We’ll pick out the perfect one.”

“And will you be there as well?”

“Of course. I’ll be the man wearing the matching ring.”

“A ring sounds terribly serious.”

“Well, I am, about you. Serious I mean.”

“That doesn’t sound terrible,” I said, smiling up at him. “I’ll agree to this plan.”

“I thought you would,” he murmured before I was kissed yet again.