Page 71 of Leo, My Partner

Ty nods, holding another fry to my mouth. “Then we’re on the same page. That makes things a lot easier for the future.”

I hum, chewing my food. He’s right. If Ty wanted to get married, I would put a ring on it, but I like where our relationship stands right now. What we have is perfect—a slip of paper won’t make it stronger. Some people feel strongly about the institution of marriage, but it’s not something I’ve given thought to.

We pull into the condo, the valet taking my keys. When we step into the lobby, the doorman says, “Mr. Anderson?”

I look at him with a raised eyebrow. It’s very rare he gives me anything but a polite nod.

“You have a visitor.” He inclines his head to a chair by the elevator, and both my eyebrows rise this time.

Ivan.

His eyes are trained on me and Ty, who bounds over to Ivan with a wide smile.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” Ty says brightly, hugging Ivan when he gets to his feet. Ivan wraps his arms around Ty, that same smile on his face that makes him resemble a robot trying to mimic emotion. I’m glad Blu taught me lessons in emotions at an early age. If left up to Ivan, I’d have been locked up a long time ago.

I look at Ivan, really look at him. He’s more tired and gaunt than he did when we were in London.

“What’s up?” I ask when he unwraps himself from Ty. “I didn’t think you’d ever set foot in America.”

“Yes, well. We need to talk.” He glances at Ty, and asks, “Can we speak Russian? My English miserable.”

We step inside the elevator, Ty pasted to my side. “Sure. I’ll give you two some time alone.”

The elevator dings when it reaches our floor. Once inside, Ty hugs Ivan once more and kisses my cheek before he heads to our room.

I motion to Ivan to have a seat on the couch while I go in the kitchen to get us something to drink. Ivan lets out one of those deep hacking coughs that follows me the whole way. The same thing that tickled my brain in the UK tickles it now.

I pull glasses from the cabinet for our drinks. Why is Ivan here? He vowed to never set foot in America, since it’s where my grandmother fled to get away from him. There were many jobs he would have enjoyed here that he shuffled off to me so he wouldn’t have to come.

Ivan is leaning heavily against the back of the couch, his eyes closed. They pop open when he hears me, and he sits up straight—or as straight as he can—and takes the glass of water I hand him.

“What’s up?” I ask again, this time in Russian. “There’s no way this is a social visit.”

He replies back in kind, his Russian faster than mine, and it takes a minute for my brain to catch up. “As a matter of fact, it is. I want to meet my grandson. Blu. And see my son, Dimitri. Aleksandr is dead, but Dimitri is still alive, and I want to see him before it is too late.”

“Who are Aleksandr and Dimitri?” My father’s name was Henry, and Blu’s father is Clinton.

“Their mother changed their names when she absconded with them to America. Clinton is Blu’s father’s name now. I spoke to your father when he sent you to me, and he said he never wanted to hear from me again. He is dead, so no need to worry about him. I have not heard from Clinton in over four decades. It is time I do.”

“Why? Why is it so urgent?”

“I’m dying, Leo. Lung cancer. I have known for a while and did not plan to come. But my soul will rest better if I can see the two of them.”

The gut punch at the news that Ivan is dying is unexpected. Ivan and I have a good relationship, with him treating me as well as can be expected with both of us lacking basic human emotions. He took me in and did the best he could with me. Hell, he could have killed me instead of honing me into a hitman able to sate his bloodlust and stay a free man at the same time.

My chest aches at the news that any day now, Ivan will be taken from me. Clearing the unexpected lump from my throat—since I never cry or feel such strong emotion about anyone—I say, “Yeah. I think Blu is at work, but I can call him and see. Grandpa, why didn’t you tell me in London?”

“We had a job to do,” he says casually, covering his mouth with a handkerchief as he coughs so violently I can hear his bones rattle. When he pulls the cloth away, I see it stained with blood. “I wasn’t at risk of dying right then.”

“You should be in a hospital.”

Ivan laughs without his lips tipping up into a smile. “So the doctors and nurses would make me stay until I die, then I get buried in an unmarked grave since I have no family in Russia? No. I’d rather die here with family.”

I nod, understanding now. He doesn’t want to be alone in his last days.

“Let me call Blu, see if he can leave work early.” I look at my watch, and it’s just after three. If Blu isn’t off now, he will be soon. “We can go to Clinton’s house when you have the chance to talk to Blu.” I haven’t seen Clinton since I was a child. I’m not sure of the reception I’ll receive. He wasn’t mean to me like my father, but I could tell he was a little afraid of me back then.

Looking at me intently, Ivan leans forward. “This man, Ty. How serious are you about him?”

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