I have to see Hanna, and soon.
* * *
Come morning, Yan’s side of the bed is empty. To my surprise, I do feel a little better. Some of my strength has returned.
After showering and dressing in baggy sweatpants with a vintage punk emblem and a black hoodie T-shirt, I go to the lounge. A guilty-looking Ilya sips coffee at the table. His eyes are bloodshot and his skin looks ashy.
“Morning.” I leave out the good. It doesn’t seem fitting. “Where’s Yan?”
“He and Anton left.”
“Where did they go?”
“They’re meeting our government connection in Ostrava about putting pressure on the Hotel Paris manager.”
“Ostrava? When will they be back?”
“Tomorrow. I’m supposed to take care of you.” As if suddenly remembering an important task, he asks, “Can I make you breakfast? Eggs? You didn’t eat much yesterday.”
I shoot him a grateful smile. “Thanks, but I can take care of myself.” I grab a cup of coffee and take a seat next to him. “Rough night?”
He barely meets my eyes. “Listen, I owe you an apology.”
“What for?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings yesterday. I didn’t know you and Yan were, uh, exclusive.”
Neither did I. It doesn’t make sense, but I do breathe easier knowing Yan won’t fuck anyone else while he’s fucking me. The hurt at seeing the brunette’s hand on his leg lifted after his declaration in the bathroom.
Not wanting to examine the reason behind that muddle of feelings, I brush the thought away. “You don’t owe me anything. What you do with your life is hardly my business.”
Yan’s twin drags a hand over his shaven head. “The thing is, you see, you are our business now.”
My laugh is uncomfortable. “I can see you’re a decent guy, Ilya. Surely, you don’t agree with what Yan is doing.” To me, that is. Nobody here has any problems with the assassination part of the business, myself included.
Ilya’s expression turns apologetic. “I may not agree, but I can’t let you go.”
Right. That’s why Ilya didn’t go with Yan and Anton. He stayed to babysit. Knowing how jealous Yan is of him, it can only mean Yan didn’t leave Anton with me because he can’t trust his bearded teammate not to hurt me.
I suppose I should be grateful for that.
I fake nonchalance. “I’m not going anywhere. This says so.” I point at the back of my neck.
Ilya flushes. “The tracker is for your safety.”
“Right.”
He shifts in his chair. “This doesn’t have to be bad for you. We’ll take good care of you.”
“Until Yan grows tired of me?” He didn’t bring me here to grow old with him.
Ilya’s eyes, as green as his brother’s, flare. “He won’t hurt you.”
“So when he no longer has a use for me, he’s just going to let me go?”
Conviction hardens his face. “I won’t let him kill you.”
“That’s sweet.” But an empty promise. I doubt Ilya is able to change any course of action once Yan’s mind is set.
The Russian cocks his head, regarding me with a peculiar expression. “How do you feel about my brother?”
I stare at him, taken aback. “How do you mean?”
“That night in Budapest, did you really choose him? Willingly, I mean.”
My cheeks turn warm. “I can’t deny that there was an attraction.”
“Was?”
The heat seeps down to my neck. “Is.” I can’t lie about this, no matter what this twisted attraction says about me.
“What about me?” Ilya asks hopefully.
I shake my head, giving him an apologetic smile.
His face drops. “Ah.”
“I don’t mean to hurt you. I can’t help how it is.”
He stares at his coffee. “I’m good. I get it.”
“Do you always share women with Yan?” I ask hesitantly, trying to understand this big, scary-looking man with the easily woundable heart.
Ilya shrugs. “There are, or rather were, exceptions. For the most part, we’re attracted to the same kind of women, and we don’t mind sharing with each other. On the rare occasion, it turns into a threesome.”
I clear my throat. “Doesn’t that feel weird? Sorry if it seems like I’m prying, but I have a hard time picturing the two of you together in bed.”
He grins. “You’d be surprised how many women have a twin fantasy.”
“Oh.” Not my cup of tea, but I can imagine how the two of them could turn a woman on. Resting my chin in my hand, I study him. He’s handsome, even if he doesn’t look that much like his twin. Yan is attractive in a sleek, dangerous way, while Ilya has a different appeal, more of a rougher, biker-type look. And there’s a reassuring side to him too, a certain humanity that Yan is lacking. I clear my throat again. “May I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Why do you do it? Is it just to please the women, or do you get a kick from it, too?” His face tightens minutely, and I hastily add, “If the question is too personal, you don’t have to answer.”
He takes a breath and lets it out slowly. “I don’t know. I suppose… it makes me feel closer to Yan.”
My heart clenches. Behind the honesty, there’s an unspoken need for acceptance, approval. Both are basic human needs, the pillars of a healthy self-esteem. We get those fundamental pillars from our parents. If our parents fail to meet those needs, we search for them elsewhere. Ilya is looking for them in his twin. In sex.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Yan isn’t very good with emotions,” Ilya continues gruffly. “My brother, he… well, he usually only gives affection during sex. I don’t mean that he touches me—he doesn’t—but he’s less shielded. Freer, if that makes sense.”
I stare at him, the ache in my chest intensifying. I can feel the pain behind his words, the longing that he can’t quite hide. Like Yan, he’s never had a normal family, and whereas Yan has been able to manage his emotions by largely denying them, Ilya has latched on to his brother as the one constant
