Page 27 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Nikolai counted it a point in his favor that Brooks’s curiosity had been piqued enough to ask. He shook his head genially. “I’m working too much for dating to be good idea.”

“O-oh.”

There was more he could have said on the subject to push the conversation forward, but Nikolai had to strongly remind himself that at the end of this Brooks was going to go back to Vitale, and potentially anything he’d learned about Nikolaihere would be repeated. He didn’t give a fuck if Vitale knew he was gay, but Nikolai needed to be careful about other personal details.

Their plan, if it succeeded, would topple Vitale’s growing empire. No man would take that lying down. Vitale’s power in the city would be greatly diminished and hopefully his income streams decimated, but Vitale was a mean son of a bitch. Nikolai had no doubt that he’d be bitter about his defeat, and all too eager to try to use whatever he could to get something over on Nikolai.

Nikolai shoved a forkful of pasta in his mouth, the food gone tasteless as his thoughts turned sour. His eyes drifted up the liquor cabinet across the room. Would having one drink with lunch really be so bad? It wasn’t as if Brooks would say anything the way Gerard or Meredith would.

But Brooks was exactly why Nikolai had to keep resisting. Deep down, Nikolai knew that if he poured himself a glass, it wouldn’t stop at one glass.

Alcohol didn’t make Nikolai violent, the way it did his father. It simply numbed him. Numbed his anxious or sad or angry thoughts. An escape from the realities and stresses of his life. But if Nikolai was numb, he wasn’t at his best. He wasn’t as sharp, wasn’t as ready. He wouldn’t be able to properly watch over Brooks, or check in on him the way he needed to.

It would be cruel to lock Brooks up in his room for the rest of the day just so that Nikolai could drink away his troubles.

And… and what if something happened in the night? What if when Brooks was locked up in his room, he—he fell and hurt himself? What if he cried out for Nikolai, because he was trapped here and Nikolai was the only one around whocouldhelp, and Nikolai was too numb to hear it?

Best just to wait. Suppress the urges for the time being. Brooks would be leaving soon enough, and then Nikolai could spend some quality time with his bottles.

He brought his attention back to the table and Brooks. The man was working his way through a slice of pizza in slow and careful bites as he kept his eyes down. Nikolai was gratified to see that for once Brooks didn’t look like eating was a struggle. He had actually gained some color in his cheeks, some of the listlessness leaving his body.

It made Nikolai realize all over again how beautiful Brooks was, now that he had some life in him again. It had been sad to see his pretty hazel eyes so dull and empty, constantly one step away from widening in terror. It had been almost worse than seeing Brooks cry.

Nikolai circled back to that terror. To how frequently Brooks flinched. To how quiet he was. The man was most definitely pretty enough for Vitale’s tastes, but that was where the similarities between him and Vitale’s previous partners ended.

The Vitale and Tkachenko families didn’t often cross paths or have conflicts, but they were always aware of each other. The best way to not step on any toes was to know who else occupied the floor. So Nikolai had made it his business to pay attention to everyone. Including the spouses, the lovers, the flings. Mattia Vitale’s last couple boyfriends had been exactly the kind of people one would imagine hanging around a man who was a wealthy, slimy??????. Young, beautiful, dressed in head to toe designer… and loud, rude, and brattish.

Brooks was young. He was beautiful. He’d even been wearing a Gucci shirt when Alex and Pyotr had grabbed him. But Nikolai had been expecting—maybe tears, yes, but backtalk too. Nasty words and threats. Screaming. Struggling. Tempertantrums, where Nikolai’s guest bedroom was ripped to shreds and he was cursed out for the supervised showers.

And instead, Brooks flinched at every frown sent his way, and bit his lip to keep his sounds in.

“You and Vitale,” Nikolai burst out. “How long you have been together?”

Brooks, who had just picked up his second slice of pizza, startled and dropped it back to his plate. “Five, um, five years,” he said in a thin voice, grabbing up a napkin and wiping at his fingers.

Fuck,Nikolai should have held his tongue. One slice of pizza wasn’t enough. Brooks needed to eat more than that.

But Nikolai had already asked the first question. And he was suddenly very interested in the answer to his second.

He cursed himself, but he might as well fucking ask. It wasn’t as if Brooks looked like he’d eat another bite right now. “How did you and Vitale meet?”

“Oh, um…” Brooks shrugged. “I was a chef at Olive & Plate, downtown.”

Nikolai stayed quiet but nodded, hoping he would continue.

After a long moment, Brooks did, his voice tentative as the story tripped out of him. “Mattia's family came in and they liked the food. His dad, um, wanted to pay compliments to the chef, so Julia, the—the waitress, she came and got me. A-and they were… nice, and then Mattia asked about my work because he was impressed that someone so young was at Olive & Plate.” Brooks fidgeted with the napkin. “Then he asked for my number.”

It should have been a happy memory… but it wasn’t. Nikolai could see plainly by the way Brooks struggled through the retelling, his voice wavering the way it did when people spoke of things that were difficult and emotional.

Brooks, who flinched and apologized at every turn, and who was so sick with anxiety and fear he was barely eating. He’d been too thin when he’d been brought to Nikolai three days ago.

I guess I-I don’t notice stuff like that anymore.

It was past time for Nikolai to move the subject away from Vitale. He latched onto the one thing that seemed safe to comment on. “Olive & Plate? I have eaten there. It has Michelin star, yes? So you are good chef?”

For the first time since he’d been brought to Nikolai, Brooks smiled. It was just a tiny curve of his lips, but it was like watching the sun come out from behind the clouds. It hit Nikolai straight in the chest.

If Brooks had brought a smile like that out to the table after Nikolai had eaten a delicious meal, he probably would’ve given the man his number too.

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