Page 93 of Heated Rivalry 1
“I feel like... I don’t know. Bad.”
“How’s your family treating you?”
Ilya gave a dark laugh. “Like I should not be here.”
“That’s ridiculous. He was your father.”
“Yes, well.” There was a pause and Shane waited. “I am paying for everything, so that makes me...of use.”
“How’s your—I mean, how’s his wife?”
“Upset. But not about my father. Everybody thinks so, but no. She is scared for herself.”
“Because there’s no money?”
“Yes. That.”
“What about you? Are you...upset?”
Ilya sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe about the wrong thing.”
“You wish things could have been different?” Shane guessed.
“I wish... I wanted him to... I don’t know.” He sighed again. “English is too hard today.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I spoke Russian.”
“You could probably learn it in a week,” Ilya grumbled. “Perfect. No accent.”
Shane laughed. “I don’t think so.” He was about to ask if Ilya had anyone there in Moscow that he could talk to, but it was pretty obvious that he didn’t. Why else would he be calling Shane?
“Where are you right now?” he asked instead.
“Walking. A park. I needed to get out.”
“Cold?”
“Fucking freezing.”
Shane was suddenly struck by a ridiculous idea. Or maybe it was a brilliant idea. He decided to share it before his brain had a chance to figure out which.
“Tell me everything you want to say,” he said. “In Russian. I won’t understand but...maybe it will help?”
There was a silence that was long enough for Shane to physically cringe at himself. He was about to take it back, when he heard Ilya quietly say, “Okay.”
The next several minutes were filled with Ilya’s voice, sounding more animated and flustered than Shane had ever heard him. He was used to Ilya saying more with a teasing smile or a calculating look than with actual words. But now it was likea dam had burst, and Shane sat himself on the stairs and let it wash over him.
Without the ability to translate any of it, Shane could just enjoy the sound of Ilya’s voice, which he barely recognized now. The words were so quick and confident, unrestricted by Ilya having to carefully piece together his sentences like when he spoke English. It felt intimate—like they were somehow sharing a bigger secret now than when they slept together.
And there was something undeniably sexy about hearing Ilya speak so fluidly in his mother tongue.
When he was finished, Ilya gave an embarrassed-sounding little laugh and said, “I am done.”
It was jarring to hear him switch suddenly back to English. Shane felt his head clear like he was waking from a dream.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“Yes. Thank you.”
