“So, how’s Mikhail?” I blurted, thrashing around for anything to say to keep him there a bit longer.
“What?” he asked, stunned into turning to face me. “My son, Mik, you mean?”
Worst segue ever. There was no reason to bring him up, but my mind wasn’t exactly at full throttle after the last twenty-four hours. Hell, the last week hadn’t been a picnic.
“Yeah,” I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and reaching for the teapot, hoping he wouldn’t notice my shaking hands. “We talked about Sofiya and Lukyan and the twins last night, but you never mentioned Mikhail. Is he still running the brewery?”
Kon noticed my trembling hands and took the steaming pot from them and poured for me. “Among other things,” he said shortly. “He stays busy.”
I nodded my thanks and took a sip of tea, waiting for him to expound on his eldest son’s latest adventures. He didn’t. “Uh, I used to have a very mild crush on him once upon a time,” I said, trying to keep things light, trying to get him to sit down and start a conversation so I didn’t have to wrestle with my own tortured thoughts.
Kon made a sour face, but pulled up one of the upholstered armchairs and plopped down, crossing his long legs at the ankles and fixing me with an appraising stare. “Did you?”
He didn’t sound curious, more annoyed.
I really didn’t, but I was stuck with it now, and pretended to be fascinated with the jam jar. Anything to keep from staring at him. Now that I wasn’t so worked up with leftover panic, all I could seem to focus on was the gray t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and stretched across chiseled pecs. He wore black sweatpants that molded to his thighs, and his feet were bare. It was a huge shock since I normally only ever saw him in bespoke suits that radiated power.
He should have looked smaller, but he looked bigger, more powerful. As dangerous as ever, and it shouldn’t have beenpossible. That kind of power had nothing to do with clothes; it was all Kon. Every last inch of him. My hand shook again for an entirely different reason, rattling the butter knife against the jam pot.
“Don’t eat it if you don’t like it,” he said. “I’ll put apricot on the list for the housekeeper when she comes later this week.”
“No, I like it. So, um…”
“If you’re that interested in what Mik’s been up to, he was supposed to visit me in Tokyo, but that’s been postponed indefinitely since I had other, more pressing business to attend to. Namely, tracking down your father.” He narrowed his eyes at me as he reached for the knife to spread jam on my toast. Like I was six years old.
Still, there was nothing remotely fatherly about him, or the look in his eyes.
“You know, that’s funny,” I said, though it really wasn’t. Not at all. “That’s the same thing that’s been messing up my calendar, too.”
“Where is he?” he demanded, placing the butter knife down with a soft clink.
My spit dried up, but I glugged down some hot tea, never lowering my gaze. Maybe I should have been scared, but anger took over. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t know?”
“Tell me everything you do know, then,” he said, leaning closer.
I leaned back. Okay, maybe I was a little scared. But more pissed off. This man had known my father since they were kids. He’d known me my entire life. And he could still sit there and look me straight in the eye and believe I was lying to him. Believe that Papa had betrayed him.
“I don’t know anything,” I said, furious when my voice cracked.
He leaned back again, crossing his arms and staring at me in clear disbelief. “You never received an influx of cash before he disappeared?”
When he had the audacity to make air quotes with his fingers as he said the last word, I was close to boiling over. “Of course not.”
He snorted. “How did you know to come here to LA? How do you even know Riku Yoshida exists if your father’s really kept you out of the loop? Who is he to you and your father?”
“R-riku Yoshida?” I stammered. “Is he someone who might know where Papa is?”
“You were at his building, and you don’t know who he is?” he asked incredulously.
It wasn’t really a lie when I shook my head. His rapid-fire interrogation didn’t seem to have an end. Why did I think I wanted him to stay and have a conversation with me? How could I think he would be able to soothe away my fears?
He wasn’t an old family friend like my memories tricked me into believing. Not anymore. He thought I was keeping things from him, and he’d do whatever was necessary to get that information.
He may have rushed in to slay my dragons and keep me safe, but it was only for his own means.
Chapter 9 - Konstantin
I was barely asleep for a few minutes when Tati’s scream tore me from my rest. That sound and the blind terror in her eyes when I burst into her room expecting to find someone attempting to murder her refused to leave my mind. My adrenaline raced, and I was almost pissed that there wasn’t an enemy in her room that I could destroy.