Boris starts coughing loudly.
Silvano’s guards both shake their heads.
“No can do, boss,” the one he’d called Evan says.
“It’s fine,” Cristiano says. They exchange a long look, then Cristiano turns that piercing gaze onto the other man, Knives. “Go.”
Evan’s eyes are narrowed, but he knows better than to undermine his bosses in front of me. “Yeah. Let’s have that tour.Quickly.”
Boris looks over to me. “Boss? I don’t trust them,” he says in Russian. “I can kick them all out.”
To both our surprise, Silvano says, in very broken Russian, “I am trustworthy. Very.” He winks at me. “My new brother-in-law has been teaching me,” he adds in English.
Boris turns beet red. I motion him away. “It’s fine. Go keep the guards busy. I can handle Cresci,” I say in Russian.
I’m not sure if Silvano understood that part, since he doesn’t react to it.
The guards all filter out of the room. Silvano waits for the door to click shut before he leans forward and says, “Okay, you clearly aren’t thinking straight. Pun intended. You liked the boy from the bar?”
Cristiano visibly starts, but his body relaxes as he catches himself. “Boy from the bar?” he repeats.
“Kyran and I tried a new open mic bar the other night,” Silvano explains. “There was a cellist there—very talented. I mean, you know I prefer guitars, but…” He looks around, as if the guards are still in the room to eavesdrop. “Let’s be serious. Kyran is an amateur, and I love the raw quality of his playing, but the cellist is good enough to be a professional.”
I nod along. “Yes. Micah’s performance was divine. It was…” I think back to the sad cello music, the way the notes had reflected my mood back and made me feelseen. No longer alone, despite how I can’t tell anyone about the dark side of my world.
“Then after a good ten minutes of making out in the back like teenagers?—”
My eyebrows go up. “You saw that?”
Silvano laughs. “Yes. Kyran’s jaw dropped to the floor, he was so shocked. I honestly never picked up on it, and I thought I had a good gaydar.”
Five years in America, and some of the slang still escapes me.
“But…?” Cristiano prompts, cutting past any chance I have of responding. “Is it just the mob’s infamous homophobia that has you hesitating and asking for advice, or is there something else going on?”
“Well, then the cop showed up,” Silvano finishes. “I thought all the pigs were on the take, but this one didn’t change his tune when he found out who I was. He honestly thought we wouldn’t notice he was a cop. The shoes alone made it obvious.”
“Wait, a homophobic cop showed up to break up the kissing?” Cristiano frowns. “Not that I expect better from the pigs.”
“No,” I interrupt. “It was not because of the kissing. The cop was Micah’s ex-boyfriend. Micah said they had broken up.”
I scowl. I think he’d said that. But the cop hadn’t acted like they’d been broken up.
Perhaps Micah was using a line, the way I’ve seen men do with women. They pretend to be recently dumped in order to gain sympathy from women.
“People can say a lot of things.” Silvano gives me a pitying expression. “Maybe he was cheating on the cop.”
Anger slams into me. “No. You saw how he reacted. Micah was terrified of the cop. He didn’t want to go with him.”
Cristiano grimaces, then shakes his head. “It’s not your business, Ilya. Because if this Micah has a cop boyfriend, that’s not something you want to go sniffing around. You know that. You’re opening yourself up to a lot of trouble.”
I glare at Cristiano. “You think I’d be interested in other men? I want Micah, not a different twinkie.”
Silvano covers his mouth to hide a laugh. “Twink, Ilya. Young, skinny men are called twinks. Do you know any twinks, Cristiano? Maybe… oh, a redhead. I’m sure Ilya can appreciate a pretty redhead.”
It’s Cristiano’s turn to glare. “No. I wouldn’t know a single redhead who’savailable,” he says, emphasizing the word before he turns back to me.
“I don’t want a redhead, or any other twink,” I say firmly. “Only Micah.”
