Page 34 of Bent, Not Broken

A knock on the door startled Polunin, and he exhaled a long breath that had me guessing who was on the other side. Sending me an apologetic look, he shifted toward the door and opened it.

“Helloooo.” His mother’s happy voice floated through the apartment and I winced. It was too early in the morning for the loud, cheery tone.

“Mom, now’s not the time. Can I talk to you later?”

“Don’t be silly, share your guest with me, Madden.” There were a few more quiet words, and then the clunking of heels had me turning my head toward the door. She came thumping in like a herd of bison, wearing a flowery dress and bright pink shoes that almost blinded me. “Officer Slater, would you care to join myself and Madden for breakfast downstairs?”

Polunin followed her in and leaned against the threshold, looking resolute in his obvious loss of the battle with her.

“We have the finest cheeses a woman, or man, could ask for.” She giggled.

Everything in me wanted to say no, make my escape while I still could, but my gut growled, and I always had a weak spot for cheese. “That would be lovely, Mrs. Polunin.”

She giggled again and waved her hand at me. “Darling, I told you last night to call me Diana. Come, let’s go eat. God knows Madden can’t cook to save his life. He learned from me.”

“Mom.” He shook his head at her, but she’d already turned on her heel and was making her way out. Polunin moved closer when I rose from the stool. “Sorry. She can be a bit overbearing.”

“At least you have a mother.” The words dangled between us before I could stop them, and I didn’t realize how sharp I sounded until he winced and stepped away. I shrugged because I wasn’t good at this people thing, and I didn’t know what to do with someone like Polunin, a man who until recently I’d hated with a passion.

Now, I didn’t know what I felt.

He’d become an enigma to me, and I didn’t like it, not one bit. “I don’t mind cheese.” My response sounded flat, even to my ears, an obvious tension breaker.

He laughed. “Mom loves international dairy. We should go down there before she comes up and drags us outside by the ear.”

I let Polunin lead me down the stairs and toward the back of the house near the massive pool. Sunlight caught in the lightly bobbing water and nearly blinded me. Someone had set up a table that looked like it belonged indoors, next to some chairs, with an artfully arranged display of serving plates crowded in the center. Littered across the display was an assortment of cheeses and other nibbles—crackers, crusts of bread, and strange-colored pastes that made me frown.

Mrs. Polunin lounged on one of the chairs, her gaze taking in the pool and the man standing beside it, a long pole with a net on the end in his hand, clearly cleaning out the leaves that had fluttered in there during the night. The pool boy wasn’t wearing anything but a tiny pair of white shorts that barely covered his asscheeks. His tanned, muscular chest had a sheen of sweat and glimmered in the morning light. And even though I supposed he was what you called a good-looking man, with abs on top of abs and a nice ass, he did nothing for me. Not an inch. Not like Polunin.

“You’re doing a wonderful job, Ronald, dear. You might need to lean in a little—oh yes, just like that.” She clapped, and Polunin rolled his eyes.

“Ron is Mother’s eye candy,” he whispered to me, his mouth twitching.

I made a noise but didn’t comment. She waved us over, and I started to take a seat beside hers, but my phone dug into my hip the way it normally wouldn’t in my jeans, so I took it out and dropped it onto the table before I sat. Mrs. Polunin smiled at me and her nose wrinkled a little at the end, charming, in her own way, and maybe that was where her son got it from. Polunin chose to settle into the spot on my opposite side.

“Please help yourself, dear. Would you like some pule? It’s all the way from Serbia. My mother has always sworn by it, and while I’m not the biggest fan, I can never say no to having some for my guests. I prefer the White Stilton Gold myself. Do you have a favorite?” She leaned into me, smile wide and expecting, as if I knew anything about what she’d just said.

“Kraft is nice,” I answered, and felt completely stupid when her face went blank for a few seconds. She began to laugh so hard that she nearly fell off the chair. The only thing that saved her was her hold on the table. Even Polunin ducked his head, cough-chuckling into his hand.

Heat flared in my cheeks and I turned to look at what Ron was doing. He’d twisted toward us, probably trying to see what was funny, and when he caught my gaze, he waved. I gave him a salute back, feeling out of my element in this expensive house with this rich family. He stretched and caught Mrs. Polunin’s attention with the action. I stared too, only because I was trying to figure out if I was attracted to a man like him, with his chiseled jaw and nice bone structure. He looked like the type of guys I saw on the front of health-and-fitness magazines. But still, he did nothing for me.

“He’s gorgeous.”

Polunin’s voice startled me, and I glanced at him, noticing the tension in the lines of his face and the thinness of his lips. He grabbed a piece of cheese from one of the piles and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. I watched his lips and jaw, and the way he ate like he could win a prize for being the most elegant at it, and I wanted to kiss him again, make his mouth gleam with our spit from me attacking it.

“Is he?” I didn’t recognize my own voice, and I swallowed when I realized it was me who had spoken. I looked at Polunin and he glared right back, our gazes in an imaginary war where the first one to glance away lost. He dared me to lose, challenged me even, and I wasn’t going to let him win, no matter how uncomfortable it made me to openly stare into his wounded brown eyes.

“Oh yes, I do adore my Ronald. He keeps a lady like me entertained.” Mrs. Polunin giggled, missing the stare-off between me and her son.

My phone buzzed on the table where I’d put it, breaking our connection, and I stared down at the message that flashed on the screen. I sighed when I saw Aunt Nora’s name, but didn’t bother to check what she’d texted. I already knew, or at least knew a variation of what the message would say, and I had no interest in irritating her with a reply. She’d always claimed Dad was innocent, that he’d never stabbed Mom fifteen times in the chest, let alone slashed her face, or the women before her for that matter. The only word I had for Aunt Nora was naïve, and I’d never entertained her wild theories of how Dad was set up.

“Help yourself, Evan. Please. Try some cheese. Here.” Mrs. Polunin passed me a plate of a weird blue-looking cheese, and I took a piece with a strained smile. I threw the strange food into my mouth, forcing myself not to cringe at the awful salty taste that assaulted my tongue. “Not a fan, I see.”

Polunin stood from his chair and walked around to my side of the table, grabbing a plate on his way. He took a seat beside me and held out the platter of cheese. “This one will get rid of the bad taste.” Snatching a piece of cheese before I could, he held it to my lips. I hesitated and then opened my mouth, letting him slip the piece of dairy onto my tongue.

He sucked on his bottom lip, his gaze glued to my mouth. The tastes burst in an array of salty and sweet, and this one had a more favorable flavor than the last piece. I wasn’t a foodie, though, so I didn’t know how to differentiate between them. All I knew and cared about was how much more delicious it was.

He grinned. “Yeah?”