Her Rustanov Bully: the (possibly romantic?) tale of how I pucked around and found out
Her Rustanov Bully: Chapter 45

Yes. Yes, it was my Ruthless Ex.

The world around me faded to silence. The noise of the TV, the hum of the sports bar—gone. Yom. Yom Rustanov was here… in the same space as me for the first time in six years.

And this time, I didn’t get a chance to turn away or duck my head.

Yom was already watching me, his intense gray eyes magnetizing mine. For a heartbeat, I wondered how long he’d been studying me before I even noticed him.

I slid down from my stool with my wine glass still in my hand.

And he slid out of his booth with his razor-sharp gaze still locked on me as he crossed the room, closing the distance between us like an incoming tornado.

I should have put my wine glass back on the bar and walked out—escaped this confrontation I’d managed to avoid for six years. But his expression was even more intense than I remembered, freezing me in place like cornered prey. Like a…

Zayka… His voice whispered through my mind, the pet name from long ago ghosting over my skin.

“Lydia,” Yom said, coming to a stop right in front of me.

“Artyom,” I replied, straightening to my full height, which still left me well below his shoulder. I wasn’t intimidating, then or now.

Yom, on the other hand, remained every bit the hockey god, as if he’d been forged from pure Olympian steel and sent to Earth to make women swoon. His dark hair, swept back like it had been drawn by an anime artist, framed a face that was somehow even more chiseled perfection than before. Cheekbones? Razor-sharp. Jawline? Strong enough to sell a mewing course.

Years had etched faint lines around his piercing gray eyes, but they only added to his commanding presence. And, of course, his tailored dove-gray suit pulled the whole look together, making me feel suddenly self-conscious in the cheap sequined dress I’d bought a couple hours ago because I’d only packed business casual for the conference.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “This is the last place I ever expected to see you.”

My mind stuttered at the sound of his voice. Six years had passed since I’d last heard it, and his English was nearly flawless now, lightly accented and smooth, without the quirks he’d once asked me to start correcting.

A memory floated through my mind.

“I am never caring about improving my English before. But I desire our wedding to be perfect, so, zayka, you will help your Yom improve, nyet?”

“Of course—as long as you know I love you just the way you are.”

Stupid, stupid girl.

I clamped my lips tight, pushing the memory away.

“What am I doing here? I’m going to a concert with my friend, Tess,” I replied, keeping it vague. I’d learned that with Yom, less was always better.

Even though I’d mentioned Tess, Yom’s eyes never left mine.

“We’re going to the sasha x kasha concert, too. My friend Geoff Latham got us tickets.”

Geoff Latham.

I’d never met any of the Lathams, but I knew the name. The Latham family owned AudioNation, and their red-glass skyscraper loomed so large in the Vegas skyline that my rideshare driver had told me the locals called it the Big Red Dildo. “You know, because of the way they be bending us over on ticket prices.”

But Yom claimed one of the Latham’s as a friend. Yom had friends now.

Another memory crept in.

“I am fine without friends. I have my family. And I have you, zayka. That is all I will ever want.”

My heart twisted. But I forced myself to stay present. “Okay, I hope you enjoy it.”

I couldn’t bring myself to lie and say it was nice to see him. So, I just finished with, “Well, bye.”

But Yom didn’t budge. He didn’t so much as twitch back in the direction of his booth. “Did your father tell you that my brother and I are buying the team from him?”

My stomach clenched.

“Mr. Carrington and I don’t really talk anymore,” I replied tightly. “But if that’s what you want, congratu⁠—”

“That’s only the beginning of what I desire,” he said before I could finish, his eyes flashing with heat.

A tense silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words and memories I wished I could erase.

“Don’t you want to know what else I desire?” he asked, his gaze steady, challenging me.

My heart fluttered. I shouldn’t.

“No,” I answered firmly. To him and myself. “I don’t care to know anything about you anymore.”

His expression hardened. “Bitterness doesn’t suit you, Lydia.”

He glanced down, his gaze lingering on my cleavage. “This dress does not suit you, either.”

He hooked a finger underneath one of the spaghetti straps. “Not nearly as well as the lingerie I bought for you. Remember how you modeled every single piece for me? It took weeks to get through the collection because I kept ripping my gifts off of you.”

Yes, I remembered. I’d naively spun around like an idiot in his so-called gifts while he…

A sudden, hot anger blazed to life, and without thinking, I gripped my glass of wine and threw it right in his face.

“Go to hell, Yom. And take your shitty innuendo with you.”

I shoved away his hand and reached for Tess’s. She barely managed to set her own glass of wine down before I dragged her out of the bar with his piercing gray gaze burning into my back.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Tess squealed as we burst into one of those indoor courtyards Vegas does so well. “I can’t believe you did that!”

Neither could I.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I said, fanning my flushed face. Vegas kept the temperature ice-cold, even in summer, but I still felt overheated as what I’d just done sank in—like a scary Russian-sized lead weight. “I didn’t mean to just… lose it like that.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry.” Tess held up her hands, looking absolutely thrilled. “I am nothing but jealous right now. I wish I could’ve done the same thing to my ex, but, you know—shared custody. Anyway, I’m sure whatever he did, he deserved that drink in his face.”

“I don’t know… I don’t know if I should have done that.” A surge of panic rose in me as I looked around. “Do you see him? Or anyone who looks like bodyguards coming after us?”

Tess glanced over her shoulder. “Nope, just a group of guys in pink sasha x kasha concert tees.”

I let out an audible breath of relief.

Tess grinned. “But, come on, admit it. That felt good, right?”

Now that my heart wasn’t pounding in my ears, I could admit, “Yeah. Yeah, it did.”

A new idea hit me. “You know what? I don’t have to give the keynote until lunch tomorrow. Let’s replace another bar and just get… I don’t know… completely wasted. I never really let myself do that in college. Then I got so busy with Paws & Claws, it felt like I missed my chance to party.”

“Say less.” Tess’s grin was all in. “I spent my twenties setting up a shelter for teen moms. Then I unexpectedly became a single mom myself. I can’t even remember the last time I wasn’t responsible as hell. I have three words for you.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Sign. Me. Up.”

“Yes! Let’s go!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, despite not having even gotten in a sip of my pinot. “Vegas, baby!”

“Vegas, baby!” Tess threw her hands up, shouting right along with me. “Let’s party!”

And party we must have…

The next morning, I jolted awake to replace myself naked in my hotel bed, lying on my right arm at an awkward angle that I already knew would leave it sore all day.

Despite managing to slip out of my cheap dress and underwear, I’d fallen asleep with a full face of makeup, if the purple and black smudges on the sheets were any indicator. Worst of all, a killer hangover pounded in my head, making me feel like I’d woken up underwater with a mouth full of desert sand and a brain that had been replaced by white noise.

Oh God… Today was my keynote speech on founding a nonprofit at twenty-four, with a Q&A session afterward. What time was it?

I raised my free arm to rub at my throbbing temple, then froze as I caught sight of something on my left hand.

A ring. A massive, emerald-cut diamond set in platinum bands encrusted with smaller stones. The split shank design wrapped around my finger in a way that was clearly meant to turn heads and show the world just how much the wearer was valued. It was a quarter-million-dollar showstopper.

I knew…

I knew exactly how much the ring cost because I immediately recognized it as the same one I’d handed back to Yom almost six years ago.

No, actually… my heart plummeted as I checked the date on my smartwatch, still strapped to my wrist from last night. Exactly six years ago. To the day.

The static buzzing in my head suddenly ceased. And that was when I realized…

It wasn’t white noise.

It was the sound of a shower. Someone…

Oh God—I sat up in the bed, grabbing at the sheets to cover myself. Someone was taking a shower in the bathroom of my hotel room. The room I’d booked for myself alone at the Benton.

“Good morning, Lydia.”

I barely had time to process this realization when Yom Rustanov walked out of the bathroom, as chiseled and powerful as ever.

Also, completely naked.

“Oh my God.” I breathed out, once… twice… but I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. “What did we do last night?”

“So very much, cynpyra,” Yom answered with a feral smile, crawling onto the bed. Then he leaned in kiss-close to ask, “Want to do it again?”