Page 133 of Wicked Serve

I stare at Nikolai’s retreating back for half a second before my body kicks into motion. I’ve only ever seen him take calls like that from his father, and that’s the last thing he needs right now. He strides down the hallway, into a part of the penthouse I haven’t seen yet.

Before I can follow, Joseph Abney steps into the hallway, saying my name.

I halt, looking over my shoulder. “What?”

“I couldn’t help but notice you seemed less than enthusiastic about my announcement.” He takes a couple steps forward. A Rolex gleams on his wrist. He has a neutral enough expression on his lean, lined face, but I sense his displeasure. “You come from a good family, Miss Callahan. You understand some of this world.”

I cross my arms over my chest as I straighten my spine. I barely held my tongue earlier, especially when it came to Katherine, but clearly Joseph isn’t interested in fake pleasantries. Fine. I can work with that.

I inspect my nails. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning you understand the future I’m offering Nikolai.”

“So you do know his name.”

His lips twitch. Almost a smile, but not quite. “I assume by now that he’s told you some things about his father.”

I dip my chin in assent.

“Can you imagine what it was like for me to learn what had been happening? To realize how badly I failed her and Nikolai, for years? I can’t help what happened, but I can give him a real future.”

“By denying him his heritage?”

“That sport isn’t his heritage.”

“His name is.” My voice shakes with emotion. I bite the inside of my cheek, hard. “You know he feels like he can’t say no to you, and you’re using him. You’re guilting him into giving up the future he’s supposed to have because you can’t let go of the past.”

“You seem like a girl who enjoys extravagance,” he says, assessing my expensive dress, the diamond jewelry. “If you stay with my grandson, which sort of life would you prefer? Parties and fancy dresses and charity events on his arm, knowing he has real power, or watching him labor over an unforgiving sport he feels he’s beholden to by his bastard of a father? He’ll try to take care of you either way, to be sure, but we know what would be best for him. For you both.”

The words hit me like a slap. “What’s best for him is what makes him happy.”

“Happiness is an illusion, Isabelle.”

“If you truly believe that, then I feel sorry for you.” I sweep my hair over my shoulder, smiling even though I want to scowl. “And for the record, even though it’s not about the money, NHL players are paid well. Not that I’m planning to rely on him financially, but thanks for your concern.”

I nearly turn and leave, but then he adds, “I care about my grandson very much. And I tolerated his hobby for a long time. But it’s time for him to grow up. You’re a smart girl. I’d appreciate your help in getting him to see that.”

I laugh in disbelief. “You know the family I come from, right? Would you have told my father to grow up? My brothers?”

“The situations are not at all the—”

“He doesn’t just play hockey.” I take a couple steps forward, my heels echoing on the marble floor. I’m glad we’re away from the crowd, so I don’t have to watch my words. “He’s amazing at it, one of the best at his position, but I suppose you wouldn’t know that, since you never come to his games. I’ll bet you never did, right? You looked at him and saw his father and let that fester for years without doing a thing to help him.”

Joseph opens his mouth, but I keep talking, the words pouring out of me in a rush. “I’ve never seen anyone work harder, and the fact you’d diminish it to a hobby tells me everything I need to know about you. Nikolai is going to be a top defenseman in the NHL, and whatever stupid deal you forced him into isn’t going to change that. In fact, I’ll make sure of it.”

“Isabelle—”

“Excuse me,” I interrupt, needlessly adjusting my necklace. My lavish necklace, which apparently made him think I’m a shallow idiot. “I need to go find my boyfriend and make sure he’s okay.”

“We’re not finished talking.”

“Oh, we definitely are.” I turn, striding to the doorway at the end of the hallway. Just before I cross it, I look over my shoulder at him. The hard set of his mouth does nothing but embolden me. “And one more thing. Never call him Nicholas again.”

It takes me a few minutes of poking around, but eventually, I find Nikolai in what looks like a library. He didn’t turn on any of the lamps, but the last light of evening illuminates him as he stands in front of the window overlooking Central Park.

My heels click against the floor. He turns at the sound, shoulders relaxing when he sees that it’s me. I take a tentative step forward, but freeze at the look on his face.

“Was it him?”

---