Gold Digger (13 page)

And email from Henri LeBeau. Nikolai ground his teeth and opened it.

Hi Nikolai, hope you’re well. Could you please answer your phone? Or maybe listen to the message I left you, garbled as it was?

Henri

Nikolai plugged in his phone, but a knock at the door derailed every thought about maybe really listening to it. He glanced up and saw Vadim standing in the doorway. “Hotel restaurant or room service?”

“Restaurant?”

Vadim nodded. “Good with me. Now?”

He had to be hungry, whereas Nikolai still felt bloated from the airline food. “Fine. Let’s get something to eat. I think I’m catching a second wind now. My sleep-wake rhythm is going to be completely fucked for a few days.”

“Take time to rest. The jetlag isn’t easy to deal with.” Vadim pushed away from the doorframe.

Nikolai grabbed his key card and wallet and they headed downstairs and then across the building to the restaurant. He really liked the mood in this place. Few hotels he’d been to managed to pull off both classy and quirky. No wonder Solange had adored it, though the main building seemed to have more curtains and enormous mirrors than an expensive bordello circa 1920.

They got a great table in the restaurant and decided to go with the five-course taster menu as Vadim suggested. Nikolai was happy to put his taste buds at Vadim’s mercy; that usually worked out fine and it turned out well this time, too. No deep conversations; they’d had enough of that, so they talked about the place and the food and otherwise had a few measured exchanges that counted as chitchat between them. Nikolai really didn’t mind that. As withdrawn as Vadim was, he could be good company.

“So, with the Olympics coming up, any of your young padawans going to represent Kiwiland?” he asked as he was finishing his crème brulée.

“No, though I did singlehandedly raise the local profile in fencing. The fencing club in Palmy is doing well, but I’m mostly teaching women’s self-defense and leave running the fencing to some of the advanced students.”

“Self-defense?”

“Aye. Preventing people from turning into victims.” He gazed into the distance, then down at his plate. “Poetic justice.”

Nikolai wasn’t quite sure he caught the meaning behind that, though he assumed it had to do with Vadim’s soldiering days. And if it did, this was the first hint of atonement or guilt he’d ever caught from him. “I think that’s great. Keeps you active and involved with people. You know, connected.”

Vadim nodded and offered a rare smile. “Yes, it gives me a great deal.”

Nikolai reached over and touched Vadim’s hand again. The waiter, a young, good-looking guy, had just brought the bill and stared down at their hands for a moment, but Nikolai didn’t feel guilty or weird. The waiter looked away, then smiled at them both with more watts than he’d spared during his service. Did he think they were lovers? And how weird was that?

“Let me cover that, Dad,” Nikolai said to resolve the situation and pulled out his credit card.

“We can put it on the overall bill,” Vadim protested.

“No, that’s fine. I do part-own a gold company, you know.” Nikolai dealt with the waiter, who seemed a touch flustered, feeling a little sorry he had shattered his illusion, but the last thing he wanted was to send the wrong message. “I think he assumed we were dating.”

Vadim snorted and turned to look after him. “He’s much too young for me.”

Nikolai chuckled. “You should have young guys throwing themselves at you.”

Vadim briefly lifted a hand with his steel wedding band, which ended that particular conversation without further protest. Nikolai laughed and finished off his wine.

Back in the suite, Nikolai went through his email and came across Henri’s. He noticed the reflex to delete it and glanced at his phone. He really didn’t feel like answering or listening to what was likely another corporate takeover move. Fuck Henri.

Don’t be a coward. How bad can it be?

He grabbed the phone and pulled it off the charger, then went to his voicemail.

“It’s me, Henri. I’m sorry about how that went. With my uncle. I’m not part of this, it wasn’t my idea, I’m sorry. I’m not sure how to go from here. I didn’t mean this to happen, Nikolai. I didn’t . . .” His voice was hushed as if he feared he’d be overheard, “I didn’t sleep with you so you’d get on our side. I know I suck a mean cock, but I’m not
that
good.” A self-conscious laugh. “Please, Nikolai, answer the phone. Or call me back, anytime. Don’t just leave and hate me for the rest of your life, please?” He gave a sigh, a hint of resignation creeping in. “Anyway, if you get this, and want to talk at all, just call me back. I’ll explain. Or at least apologize, and that’s much easier in person. Let’s not . . . don’t make this end this way. Please.” The message ended. Two more after that, same number, but no more words, just silence serving as toneless exclamation marks after the first message.

On an impulse, Nikolai hit the call back button.

“Henri LeBeau speaking.”

“Hi.” Nikolai turned away from the door. “Krasnorada here.” As if his last name was any protection against that twinge high up in his chest. “Got your message and your email.”

“Nikolai. Th-thanks for calling me back. I appreciate it.” Except for that first small stutter, he was more composed now, as if he were flipping through his rolodex at his desk. Not the frantic mess who’d left the message. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good. Calmer now.”

“Good. That’s . . . yeah, that’s good. Listen, I probably didn’t make much sense, I was starting to—No, I was really upset. I know what you’re thinking, but that was not why I did what I did. I might be an asshole, but I’m not an asshole who sleeps with somebody for a business advantage. I’m not that corrupt. Besides, my uncle would never think of using a guy like that, that guy being me. He’d use every other trick in the book and out of it, but he wouldn’t send the heir to the throne to sleep with a guy. Or maybe not in this price range, I don’t know. Maybe if it were a big-ass merger with another large company, but even then I wouldn’t do it.”

“You didn’t get much of an advantage, either, for that.”
All you did was make me vulnerable.

“No, that’s right. I just wanted you to know that.”

“Thanks.” Nikolai peered out into the shared living room. Vadim was using the area in front of his bedroom for push-ups, and he turned away. “Well, I guess you’re busy, so . . .”

“Not too busy.” Henri was clearly trying to hang onto the call. “Where are you? Back in Armenia?”

“No, New Zealand. Wellington. My father emigrated here, so I’m just catching up with him.”

“Staying in a hotel, or locally?”

“A hotel. Museum Hotel, modern art. My father is into all that. We’re going to see Te Papa and the maritime museum and some other places around here. Should be fun.”

“Sounds good. Maybe, if you’re coming back to Toronto . . .”

Time to shoot him down. He hated to stomp on Henri’s hopeful tone, but it was better for both of them. “I don’t think I will. I really don’t. You’re a nice guy, even more when you’re out of that tailored suit, but there’s no reason for us to meet again. Get somebody who fits you better, get a boyfriend, hell, even find somebody you can love. My father did, and it worked out fine for him. You’ve got a lot going for you, so don’t shortchange yourself.”

“Nikolai, please, you have to—”

“I have to do nothing. I’m not what you’re looking for.” Nikolai blew out an irritated breath. Shit, this hurt and he wasn’t even sure why. He liked Henri, and he didn’t like him begging, and casual sex and random blowjobs were not what Henri should be doing. “Please don’t call me again. There’s much better than me out there for you.”

“Can we be friends?”

“Based on what? You guys are going to fuck over my oldest and best friend. I have my loyalties, and LeBeau Mining doesn’t even begin to figure on that list.”

“Okay.” Henri’s voice was thick. What on earth had been going through Henri’s mind? This sounded like real hurt, real pain, and that was wrong on so many levels. “If you ever reconsider . . .”

“No, Henri. Please go, be happy. I won’t be in touch.”

In touch.
A Freudian slip is when you say one thing and mean your mother.

“Okay. Okay. Yeah. Sorry, I was presuming . . .”

“I’m going to end the call now, Henri. Take care.” Nikolai lowered the phone and pressed the end call button.

Wow, that had been hard, but as he backtracked, he didn’t think he’d made a mistake. He’d been gentle, he’d been nice. Lots of casual relationships ended in his life, some after weeks, others after months, though it had always been women with him before, and even those who stuck around when he moved to the next job usually dumped him when something in their routine lives went berserk and he wasn’t there to help. That was when they’d work out that having a long-distance, once-every-few-months relationship wasn’t really a relationship at all. He was just a stranger dropping in for sex and shopping.

There was simply no way the thing with Henri could work out. He liked the guy, but he’d liked other guys without ever fucking them. And he wasn’t gay. More than merely
curious
, sure, but maybe just open-minded? Whatever the case, Henri deserved a guy who was with him one hundred percent.

He sat down in the living room, where Vadim was stretching his shoulders with the calm and methodical air of somebody who kept himself in peak condition out of habit after a long career of fighting and war. And damn, but he was flexible.

“How do you stay so bendy?”

Vadim lifted an eyebrow. “Physiotherapist told me to do yoga and Pilates for my back.”

“Oh Lord. So you’re the only huge ex-military tough guy in courses full of women in their mid-fifties? How do you survive?”

Vadim snorted. “There are two more guys in there.”

“Both gay?”

“I think one might be straight. I never asked.”

Nikolai chuckled and then rubbed his neck. “What now? Want to go out for drinks or something?”

Vadim shook his head. “For me it’s an early night, but the bars around here are pretty good. Jean and Solange loved Cuba Street.”

Normally he’d give it a go, but tonight he didn’t feel up to being friendly to strangers. And if he met a woman, that would be even more awkward. The last thing he wanted was another messy
thing
. He was going to devote the time to his father and thinking and resting and nothing else. Maybe he’d even rustle up the courage to talk to Vadim about everything. Vadim must have heard part of that call, but Nikolai was endlessly grateful he didn’t ask for details.

“I don’t think I’m in the mood. I . . . just had a call.” Oh what the hell, get it over with. “Do you have time?”

Vadim settled on the couch. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Nikolai rubbed his face, then folded his hands, and then put them flat on his thighs. “You know I’m in gold exploration. I’m one of the partners of a company called Cybele, and we’re sitting on a few million ounces in Armenia. It’s kind of a big deal. It’s a lot of money, but we need a partner to get the stuff out of the ground and actually start production. So Ruslan—that’s Ruslan Polunin, the CEO, old, old friend of mine, I mean, we go way back—sends me to pitch to LeBeau Mining. They’re Canadians and have done a fair amount of post-conflict mining, so they’re a perfect fit for us. But the CEO is being a dickwad, and says he doesn’t like Ruslan and is going to put his nephew in charge, Henri LeBeau. Henri has experience with a similar setup in Malawi, and if they own us, they can put anybody in charge. Obviously, that’s not what we want. It’s Ruslan’s baby. He’s worked so hard for that company, you’d struggle to find anybody who’s more deserving. Handing him a pile of stock options and kicking him down to a senior consultant or something is just a fucking bitch move.” He realized he was getting angry, not only from the cursing, but the pounding in his throat. He breathed deeply a few times. Vadim was merely watching, doing nothing, not a touch, not a smile, not a nod. Just absorbing information.

“So I tell them that’s really unlikely, and the uncle goes, ‘Well, then we’ll just do a hostile takeover and get you anyway.’ I told Ruslan we’re kind of screwed unless he can do a deal with somebody else. I mean, we can probably get the cash in debt from a few banks, but people are so nervous about investing right now. I mean, how much safer can you get? It’s gold.”

“But that’s not what has you worked up so much.”

“No. I wish it were.” Nikolai blew out a breath. “I had sex with Henri.”

Vadim frowned and leaned forward. Thank God he didn’t betray disappointment or offer some shoulder-slapping “welcome-to-the-brotherhood” sentiment. Nikolai could count on Vadim to leave emotions outside the door in crucial moments. “What happened?”

“He was flirting and I got turned on, and he offered a blowjob, and I took that offer. Idiot that I am.”

“With the right amount of alcohol and in the right mood, many guys would accept, though.” Vadim shook his head.

Offering me an escape. I was drunk. I was horny. The mood was right. They played our song on the radio.
Nikolai rubbed his face.
“Yeah, well, next day I screwed him. It . . . I just went with the flow, you know? Just didn’t think. I don’t know. He’s a good-looking guy, I guess. It was shockingly good.”

You did think. You thought a great deal.

“I won’t judge you for that. These things happen.”

“Did you ever have sex with a straight guy?”

Vadim’s lips tightened. “I did.” Something in his eyes warned Nikolai to proceed with utmost caution now. There was something predatory in Vadim’s eyes, a glimmer of something dark. “Once, Katya and I shared a lover, a man she would have left me for if he hadn’t died.”

Your father was a pilot who crashed in Afghanistan and died. A special friend of my father, and our mother nearly left Vadim for him, but he died before it happened. You were some kind of memento, but that’s it, Nikolai.

Some kind of memento. Nikolai shook his head. So this was it? That dirty family secret? “Would you . . . tell me about him? How did he . . . even get there?”