Chapter Eighteen - I Will Be Your Soldier
"What's the meaning of this?" Ruslan asked. "Who are you? Where is Martin? What did you do to him? And why the hell do you sit there like you own the fucking place?"
The stranger put one hand up, and his smile grew wider. Johnny was in too much shock to say anything. Now he understood a few things, especially about why Douglas had wanted so badly to keep it a secret that Ruslan was related to him by blood.
The man in front of them needed no paternity test or fancy DNA screening. He was Ruslan, head to toes, some twenty-five years from now. Or maybe not entirely. His face was harsher, his lips thinner, and there was something cold and measured in his eyes even as he smiled. The designer suit fit him like a glove, and he was impeccable to the last hair on his head.
"I do own the fucking place," the reply came.
Johnny noted the heavy foreign accent right away.
Ruslan gasped. "What did you do to Martin?"
"Butler? He's fine. I just needed his phone. And this house."
"Why?" Ruslan asked. "Who the fuck are you?"
"Such a dirty mouth. Just like your mother," the man said.
He made a gesture to stand up, and one of the goons hurried to pull his chair. The man paid his servant no mind and walked slowly around the table, touching the lacquered table with something in his eyes and his moves that, from where Johnny stood, looked like nostalgia.
"What do you know about my mother? You still haven't told me. Who the fuck are you?" Ruslan shouted.
Johnny could not believe Ruslan didn't see it. Maybe he was too much in shock. "Pretty, I think that's your father," he said slowly.
"Ah," the stranger said with satisfaction. "Smart. Who's this? Bodyguard? Good choice. He looks strong."
"You can't be," Ruslan said, shaking his head.
The man sighed. "All right. Let me introduce myself. I'm Vladimir Petrovsky."
"Doesn't ring a bell," Ruslan spat.
"Of course not. Douglas told you nothing about me. He was right, in his own way, I suppose. Because my son belongs to me."
Johnny wasn't sure whether it was the man's broken way of speaking a foreign language or he did mean that as it came out. Instinctively, he stepped in front of Ruslan, to protect him.
"Easy, bodyguard," Vladimir said. "No one here wants to hurt your boss."
"He's not my bodyguard," Ruslan said. "He's no one. Let him leave."
Johnny turned to stare at Ruslan. "Now what are you playing at, pretty?"
"Ah, he's the fiancé," Vladimir intervened. "I heard of him. I didn't know he was this strong. Now, Ruslan, come here and let me embrace you."
Ruslan's eyes were shifting from Johnny to Vladimir and back again. Johnny felt a bit relieved. He was wary still, but it didn't look like this man wanted to hurt Ruslan. Vladimir was looking fondly at his son.
Respectfully, Johnny took one step to the side, but Ruslan made no sign that he wanted to move. Vladimir opened his arms wide and walked over to him. He pulled Ruslan who seemed more like a ragged doll at this point, into a tight embrace and kissed both his cheeks loudly.
He took Ruslan by the shoulders and made him walk to the table and sit. "You can come, too, bodyguard," he said over his shoulder.
Johnny followed in silence. It was so strange to sit there and look at Ruslan and that stranger. Side by side, the resemblance was even more striking. It was like a punch to the gut, and Johnny could not help but wonder what Douglas must have felt when he saw Ruslan for the first time. It was clear as day who the father of his daughter's son was. The lawyer must have lied through his teeth at the will reading. They must have all known Ruslan was the spitting image of his biological father.
Presumably, none of them thought this would bite them in the ass. Yet, Vladimir Petrovsky, as the man had dutifully recommended himself, had clearly caught wind of having a son, and he was now here to claim him.
Johnny always went with his gut instinct, and he felt completely calm in the presence of this stranger. Maybe it was because he looked so much like Ruslan that Johnny could not see him as the bad guy. If that were the case, and Vladimir's intentions were bad, they were in deep shit.
"So, your grandpa failed to find your mom," Vladimir said in a playful tone like he was talking to a child.
Johnny could barely keep a smile despite the seriousness of the situation. Ruslan's glare was legendary. His lover wouldn't tolerate being patronized like that. "And? Have you found her or something?"
Vladimir was holding Ruslan close, by his shoulders, forcing their chairs together. In turn, Ruslan looked like he wanted to be in a separate universe. "I wish I did. I wish I found you before now, little treasure."
"Little treasure?" Ruslan sputtered. "Seriously?"
"What? Is it the wrong term of, how do you say this, endearment?"
"Let's just say you're just about twenty-something years late to use any term of endearment," Ruslan said icily.
Johnny rubbed his face with one hand to hide his smile.
"Ah, I didn't know about you," Vladimir replied, his own smile never leaving his face. "I was interested in some small business, something little to give my cousin who wants, for who knows what reason, to live here. And I find that Douglas Kent has a son named Ruslan."
"And? Douglas will always be my father," Ruslan spat.
"He's your grandfather. And did nothing to clean your spiteful mouth," Vladimir replied, looking at his son pointedly. "Melanie told me. 'We ever have a son, let's name it some name you want.' And I chose your name for you," he added as he pushed a finger into Ruslan's shoulder.
Johnny shook his head. He could not believe his ears, or his eyes, but Ruslan's real father was right in front of them, and that was no fantasy.
"So I wanted to see this Ruslan. They kept me in the dark, all these years. When I could have watched you grow," Vladimir said with affection mingled with regret.
"Spare me the crocodile tears," Ruslan said and looked down stubbornly. "You don't know my life."
"But I want to know it," Vladimir said in an excited tone. He slapped Ruslan's back hard. "Should your mom have come to me, I could have made her a princess. Now I'll make you a prince."
"No, thank you," Ruslan replied.
Johnny could feel that Ruslan's façade was breaking. Whatever toughness he had in him, Ruslan must have felt it dissipating right now, hearing this stranger talk so casually about him and his mother.
"Ah, don't be mad at me. Douglas should have told me of you."
"Papa didn't have to tell you shit," Ruslan said and pushed the back of his hands into his eyes.
Vladimir pulled him close. "He robbed me of you. Like he robbed me of Melanie."
