Opposites Ignite by Sadira Stone (crime books to read .txt) 📗

relishing the burn of alcohol. Maybe with enough vodka, he could get through this. Or maybe he’d melt into a puddle of tears at Rosie’s feet. Either possibility sounded better than this prickly standoff.

Of course, on a day when Lady Luck decided to shit on him, he and Rosie were seated at the same table as his parents. Thank God, Uncle Pete was there too. At least they’d have someone fun to talk to.

“Hey, kiddo, good to see ya.” Pete rose from his seat and thumped Eddie on the back. His favorite uncle had the same wiry physique that made most Volkov men look like plucked chickens, but on him it looked suave and elegant. Must be the expensive pinstriped suit. “And who is this ravishing creature?”

She giggled. “Hi. I’m Rosie.”

Pete grasped her hand and gave her knuckles an air kiss. “Piotr Volkov at your service, dear lady. Meet my husband Bruno.”

Looking GQ sharp in a sleek black suit, Bruno murmured greetings in his thick Italian accent.

Rosie fanned her cleavage. “My stars, Eddie, you didn’t tell me there were so many gorgeous men in your family. I thought it was just you.”

Was that twinkle in her eye just for show? Nothing he could do about it now, so he might as well play along. “Let’s sit here.” He switched the place cards so he and Rosie sat next to Pete and Bruno. Aunt Lada and Uncle Ivan could fend for themselves.

Pete rapped his knuckles on the table. “Tell me, young one, what is new with you?” He twinkled at Rosie. “Besides this bit of extraordinary good fortune.”

Rosie took another healthy swig from her pink drink. “Eddie got a promotion. He’s going to be the most excellent bar manager, don’t you think?”

“Is that so? Tell me, Eddie.”

She wobbled a little as she leaned across him. Should’ve taken her home when he had the chance. Better to beg off with some lame excuse about his date being sick than to have her spill his plans. The way the family grapevine worked, his parents would know in seconds. He threw a panicked glance around the ballroom, but they were nowhere in sight.

“It’s just a temporary thing,” he told his uncle. “I’m filling in for someone.”

Just then, Cousin Eva trotted over with her girlfriend in tow. “Eddie, the DJ’s taking requests for later. Come help us.”

Zelda wheedled, “Pleeease. Otherwise, it’s gonna be nothing but Sinatra and the Electric Slide.” She patted Eva’s rump. “Hey, did you know that song’s about a vibrator?”

Eva clapped her hand over her mouth. “That’s Babka’s favorite song! Do you think—”

Pete spoke up. “Now now, Eddie just sat down. Give us a minute to catch up.”

“I’ll go.” Rosie popped out of her chair, smooched the top of Eddie’s head, and trotted after the other two girls.

Bruno cocked an eyebrow. “She seems fun. Another drink, love?”

“Please.” Pete nodded his head toward Eddie.

“Vodka rocks.” If he didn’t have to drive home later, he’d ask for the whole damn bottle.

Bruno patted his shoulder and left him alone with Pete. The youngest of his dad’s brothers, he was yet another black sheep, having gone into family law instead of something more useful to the dry cleaning business.

Pete regarded Eddie over tented fingers. “You look like you’re about to explode. What ails you, son?”

“What doesn’t?” He dropped his head into his hands.

“Love troubles?”

“Big time.” He huffed a sigh. “And work stuff too.”

“Are they connected?”

Uncle Pete always saw right to the heart of the matter. “Yeah.” He glanced around—still no sign of his parents. “If I tell you something, will you swear to keep it to yourself?”

“Sure.” His broad hand dropped over Eddie’s. “You in trouble?”

“I will be.” He scooted his chair closer and, in a voice too low to be heard beyond their table, spilled it all—the vision board, the notebook, the dream of running his own bar.

“Well now,” Pete stroked his thick mustache. “Sounds like a solid plan.”

“Only two problems. No money, and my parents. They expect me to take over their shop.”

“Now?”

“Eventually. There’s no way I can do both. I mean, I’m young and single, and already I’m exhausted at the end of the day. How am I going to handle two businesses and a family of my own? It’s impossible.”

“Not to mention soul-sucking.” Pete chuckled. “I should know. After a couple years dealing with the family’s business contracts—not my specialty at all—I finally told Pops I was through. And you know what? He got over it.”

“Really? I thought you were kind of, you know—”

“An outcast? That didn’t last long. Some of the oldsters still look at me funny, but that’s more about Bruno than leaving the family business.” He adopted a thick Russian accent. “How could he marry an Italian?” He chuckled. “This clan is big on tradition, but they’re not heartless. Besides—a Russian themed bar with vodka and dumplings? That’s brilliant.”

“If I can ever get enough start-up capital.”

Pete tapped his lips. “Can I tell Bruno about this? He might have some ideas.”

Eddie nodded.

“When you’re ready to tell your parents, give me a call. Vadim can be stubborn, but he has a soft spot for his baby brother.”

He grinned. “I will. Thanks.” Why hadn’t he asked Pete’s advice before? Caught up in worry about disappointing his parents, he forgot that Pete had already done the same thing and survived. All it took was helping a niece through her nasty divorce, and suddenly the fam saw the benefit of his specialty. Maybe they’d see his bar the same way.

Where the hell was Rosie? She’d left with Eva twenty minutes ago. He stood to peer into the crowd and found her arm in arm with Babka, heading his way. Babka patted her hand and said something that pulled a hair-tossing, boob-shaking laugh from Rosie. Longing stabbed him right in the gut.

This couldn’t be the end of the road for them. What’s the point of all his plans if his nose-to-the-grindstone blinders cost him that laugh, that smile, that warm, soft body? This past week