Page 19 of The Primary Pest
Surprised by Ajax’s insight, Dmytro asked, “What do you mean?”
“I mean… oh. How important you make them feel to you? I’ve never doubted my parents’ love, not once.”
“But by your own admission, you spent your childhood alone. You said yourself you’ll do anything for attention. To me, that sounds like you were a very lonely boy. I worry my Sasha and Pen will—”
“Be like me?” Ajax laughed. “Nah. I’m unique, I think.”
Dmytro hid a smile. “No kidding.”
“I was never alone. There were caregivers, bodyguards. Mom says I have an insatiable appetite for attention, but I got it. And remember, your Sasha and Pen have each other. I never had a brother or sister.”
Dmytro pressed his lips together. “I had brothers.”
“There are more like you? Oh my God.” Ajax’s brows lifted.
“Several older brothers, in fact. My father remained a hard-line pro-Russian after the breakup of the Soviet Union. We come from a distinguished military family, so the pressure was great to follow in his footsteps. We didn’t get along.”
Ajax winced. “I’m sorry.”
“My older brothers fell in line to make my father proud. I refused to do anything he wanted on principle.”
“I wish I had brothers.”
Lowering his eyes, Dmytro admitted, “I was close to the second youngest, but he moved to the States.”
Ajax asked, “Did you stay in touch?”
Dmytro rubbed his earlobe. He should have gone into the sauna with Ajax; it would have been more comfortable. It would have felt more like a confessional, and now he was cold. This was like asking for absolution in front of a glass window, as if Ajax could see into his soul.
“After I married Yulia, we talked some.”
Ajax was silent too long before he asked, “What’s Yulia like?”
“Why do you want to know?” Dmytro lifted his gaze.
“I just want to know.” Ajax grinned. “I’m very curious.”
“Like sunflowers.” Dmytro glanced down at his empty hands. “She was like armfuls of sunflowers. She delighted the eye, the heart. Everyone she met felt better after they spent time with her.”
“Shewas?” Ajax startled. “Past tense?”
“I’m a widower.” Dmytro expelled a breath.
“I’m so sorry.” Ajax covered his mouth with both hands. “I didn’t mean to pry into something so painful. Oh my God. That’s awful.”
Dmytro couldn’t bear it—opening his mouth, his wounds, for this boy who had never known a day of trouble in his life.Why had he done it? It had been so long since he’d confided anything about his life in someone. Why, oh, why had he poured his thoughts into the vacuum created by Ajax Fairchild’s empty words?
Ajax’s eyes had misted in a show of empathy, and now he reached a tentative hand out to cover Dmytro’s. At his touch, old impulses—desire he’d turned away from when he’d married Yulia—rushed through him.
He’d fled from his bisexuality at home and planned to keep running in America, but Ajax was a perfect storm of good looks and sex appeal and provocation. In any other circumstance, it would be impossible to resist him.
For seconds that felt like eons, he watched Ajax’s pupils widen. They swallowed the brilliant green of his eyes until there was hardly any color left. A pulse ticked visibly in his throat.
“It is what it is.” Dmytro pulled his hand back, palms suddenly sweaty. He wiped them on his shirt and ordered, “Get back in the sauna. I didn’t come down here with you to chitchat.”
“You lost someone you loved.” Ajax blinked back tears. “It’s okay to have emotions.”
“I have emotions.” Dmytro spoke tersely. “I simply don’t play show-and-tell with them at work.”
