Page 147 of The Long Game
Ilya took his time answering. “To be closer to someone.” Then, like a coward, he took another sip of his drink.
Svetlana’s vivid blue eyes widened. “Someone? Like, someone you are dating? Are you actually with someone? In a real relationship?”
“Yes.”
Her face lit up. “My god. She must be spectacular. Who is it? Where did you meet? In Ottawa? Is she Russian?”
The server returned to take their orders. “We need more time,” Svetlana said, not unkindly, but a bit impatiently.
The server left with a polite, “Of course.”
Svetlana rested one elbow on the table and tapped her red fingernails against her red lips. “Why have I never heard of you dating someone? Is it a secret?”
“You are asking a lot of questions.”
“Answer the last one first.”
“We should look at the menu—”
“Ilya.”
Under the table, Ilya’s fingers flexed against his dress pants. “Yes, it’s a secret.”
“This is intriguing. Are you having an affair? Is it a teammate’s wife?”
“No,” Ilya said quickly, slightly offended. “Nothing like that. Of course not.”
“Didn’t you tell me once you’d slept with your teammate’s girlfriend? Back in Moscow?”
“Yes, but he was an asshole to her, and also I was seventeen. I would never do that now.”
Svetlana hummed thoughtfully. “It’s a secret, but it’s not an affair. Maybe your coach’s daughter?”
“My coach’s daughter is eleven.”
“The owner’s daughter, then. Orisit the owner? Isn’t one of the owners of the Centaurs a woman?”
“It’s not the owner.”
She smiled over the rim of her martini glass. “This is a fun game. I like this.” Suddenly her eyes went wide. She leaned forward and whispered, “Is it a man?”
Well. That hadn’t taken long. Ilya answered with the slightest tip of his head as he brought his glass to his lips.
Svetlana covered her mouth with one hand, eyes still wide. He could tell she was smiling, though.
“Ilya,” she finally said. “Holy shit.”
“Yes.”
She grinned wickedly at him. “Did you fuck every woman in Canada and had to move on to men?”
Ilya rolled his eyes. “That’s not how it works.”
“So who is he?”
Ilya’s cheeks heated, which he hoped wasn’t noticeable in the dim lighting of the restaurant.
“You’re blushing,” Svetlana said, delighted. “Ilya Rozanov, are you inlove?”
