Page 146 of The Long Game
“I’m sorry,” Ilya said, meaning it. He switched to Russian. “It’s a long story, but it’s mostly because I’m a terrible friend.”
“You were always a terrible friend, but you were a fantastic lay and I miss you.”
“I missed you too.” Ilya offered her his arm. He’d met her on the sidewalk near the Beacon Hill restaurant they were having dinner at. She’d stepped out of the taxi looking like a movie star in a long black fur-trimmed coat, her white-blond hairswept into an elegant knot at the back of her head. “You look stunning.”
“Probably.”
“Are those boots practical for Boston winters?” Ilya asked, eying the tall, narrow heels on her knee-high leather boots.
“Of course. They’re like ice picks. And don’t change the subject. We’re still talking about how terrible you are.”
“I thought we were talking about how great I am in bed.”
“How great youwere. It’s been years, Ilya.Years.”
“I know,” Ilya said seriously. He opened the door to the restaurant and held it for her. “Let’s order drinks. Then I’ll explain.”
Once they were seated at the most private table in the elegant Italian restaurant, and martinis had been ordered, Svetlana glared at him expectantly.
Ilya sighed. “If it makes you feel better, you’re not the only one I lost touch with.”
“It does not,” she said sharply.
“I’ve been...a bit closed off, since I moved to Ottawa.”
“What does that mean? You’re not sleeping your way through North America anymore?”
Ilya huffed a laugh. “No. Not anymore.”
The server brought their martinis. Ilya had never been so happy to see a cocktail.
“What a loss to women everywhere,” Svetlana said dryly.
“Hopefully they can get over it.” Ilya sipped his martini, which was perfectly cold and crisp. “How have you been? Where are you working?”
“I finished my MBA.” She smiled. “I have been offered a job by the Boston Bears.”
“Perfect!” Svetlana knew more about hockey than anyone. More than Shane. Possibly more than Yuna. “You’re going to take it?”
“I think so. They’re excited to have Sergei Vetrov’s daughter working for them.” Vetrov had been a superstar for Boston in the ’90s.
“And what does Sergei think?”
“That I am a princess who should get whatever I want. We have that in common.”
Ilya laughed. “Were you at the game today?”
“Yes. You couldn’t hear me booing you?”
“Not over everyone else booing me. Boston hates me now.”
“Of course we do. You left.”
And that could be a segue intowhyhe left, but he was struggling to make himself bring it up. Shane knew about and supported Ilya’s decision to tell Svetlana about their relationship, and Ilya knew he could trust her, but finding the words was difficult.
Instead, he picked up the menu beside him. “What’s good here?”
Svetlana reached across the table and pushed his menu down with one beautifully manicured finger. “Why did you sign with Ottawa, Ilya?” she asked in her usual blunt way. “I have never understood it. No one does.”
