Page 60 of Frequency of Attraction

“I don’t know what I want anymore. Every day here has felt like a mistake.”

“You made a choice. You can make another.”

That’s what Vadim had done.

Quinn had taken to emailing when she needed something instead of coming to his office. Vadim didn’t hate that change. But he received an email from her a few days after she got back from Cannes, after the awkwardness in the simulator, that reminded him why he’d started falling for her in the first place. Quinn had his back. She always had other people’s interests foremost in her heart.

I’ve lined up an interview with AeroSpace magazine for you Thursday morning. I’ll drop it on your calendar. Questions are attached. Start thinking about your responses. This will include a photo shoot, so be sure to wear branded clothing.

Vadim opened the list of questions from the magazine. They wanted to know the timeline of their first commercial flight, of course. Some details of the experience that Elle had carefully curated. How he anticipated space tourism might change travel and the world. If dedicating the billions of dollars to the technology and testing were a wise investment in the current financial climate.

Excitement stirred in his gut. The prestigious publication wanted to talk to him like he was a real astronaut. “Fake it until you make it” was a Western saying that Chen had picked up in France and drilled into his head all through college. This interview, and the fact that Thomas was hinting that Vadim would get to go up on the next flight, meant he was finally fucking making it.

Thursday morning, he donned a gray OrbitAll polo and paired it with snug black slacks. He was heading out the door when his phone vibrated. It was his sister. “Dasha?”

“Adrik is dead.” His sister’s voice sounded flat. “I found his body in front of our door this morning. He was shot.”

His stomach twisted into painful knots. “Fuck, Dasha. What can I do?”

“Talk to Mama? She’s been asking for you.”

Vadim didn’t know if he could handle his mother at her worst. “Put her on.”

Her anguished sobs echoed in his bones, her wails in his eardrums. She couldn’t believe her angel had been shot by monsters, as if his shady shit had escaped her notice. As if Adrik wasn’t the monster in charge. He tried to pacify and soothe, but his words were hollow and wasted.

Adrik, the bastard, had dragged his heinous lifestyle to their front door. Vadim didn’t know if his family would know peace now or worse fear. After that conversation, and another with his sister, he drove to the hangar in a daze.

Inside, he vaguely registered that the area around Stratos had been cleared of the usual clutter. Photographers were setting up lights and stools under Quinn’s supervision.

How dare his prick of a brother get killed before they could confront their years of shit? Vadim had owed him an ass-beating for the broken leg and haunted dreams. For twenty years, he’d carried the failure of not saving those women from his brother. Vadim had stayed away for his mother’s sake, but he’d always planned on retribution. Now he had to live with letting Adrik get away with his behavior, his betrayal of humanity. Vadim would never have his say. His fight. Once again, Adrik had bested him.

Quinn waved him over. Vadim gritted his teeth against anger that boiled up from deep, dark recesses. He’d failed those women. He’d failed his family. This issue with his brother would forever remain unfinished.

He knew there were introductions to the magazine people, but he didn’t hear them. The answers he’d prepared to the prearranged questions had flown from his mind. They settled onto stools for the interview, but Vadim felt anything but settled. As the interview wore on, he could tell by the expression on Quinn’s face that he was not giving the answers she wanted. Finally, she asked for a five-minute break. As Vadim sat bouncing his foot and hating his dead brother, Quinn arranged for one of the technicians to give theAeroSpacepeople a tour of Stratos.

Her hazel eyes shot daggers at him when she turned back toward him. “You’re great in interviews,” she hissed, “so what is this? I arranged this interview as a favor to you, to help you with Thomas. You’re sabotaging yourself, or me, or both. Don’t.”

Vadim had never felt more unbalanced. He wanted a drink, he wanted to hit someone, he wanted to fuck, he wanted to cry, he wanted forgiveness. He wanted Quinn. He hated that his soul reached for hers in that moment. Like he needed someone. Like he needed her.

Fuck, he needed her.

What he felt for her became as clear as his loss.

He was in love with Quinn. She was his light in the darkness. Light he didn’t deserve, warmth he hadn’t earned. Vadim could not have her, love or no. She deserved better. So he let his pain take over. He let his darkness shove her further away. “Don’t fuck this up like I fuck up everything else? Quit trying to fix me, Quinn. Stay away from me.”

He saw the sheen that formed in her eyes. He tossed her tears on top of the pile of ways he’d failed the people around him.

She blinked them away. “Fine. But this is your job. I don’t know what’s wrong with you today, but try to get your shit together.”

Vadim ground his teeth together and nodded. He knew how precarious his situation was at OrbitAll. Thomas would read this interview. So would Tate. He represented them all. He blew breaths in and out and focused on the connection of his feet to the polished cement floor.

He felt more centered when the magazine staff got back from their tour. He revisited some of his answers. He gave real attention to the rest of the questions. He posed in dozens of different ways for the photographer. He even smiled a few times. For her.

She didn’t thank him. She didn’t even look at him as she walked the team out of the hangar.

Vadim realized what he’d done only later that night, after two giant glasses of Blazh. He’d given a salient interview on one of the most emotional days of his life. Thomas would be proud. Fuck, Vadim was proud. But he’d also pushed away the woman he loved. There wasn’t a damn person on the planet, himself included, who’d be proud of that.

He didn’t see Quinn the next day. Nor the day after or the rest of the week, either. No one seemed to know where she’d gone. Not even Tate, unless he just wasn’t telling. Vadim didn’t want to care. He didn’t want to shoulder the blame for her abrupt disappearance. But he did.

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