Chapter Text
“That sounds great. See you at noon tomorrow. Yes, Madraya I know how to get to the Palm Court. Yes, I promise I won’t be late. Okay, I’ll see you soon.” Nikolai gently placed the receiver into the cradle before dropping his head into his hands. He was lucky that it was a Friday evening, the firm was empty which meant no one was around to witness this. He was nestled away in his favourite hidden corner in the law library which was the perfect place to get his work done, though he wondered how productive he would be now that he had to create a game plan for the following day. He was practiced in making sure his mother didn’t spill any secrets which was often the result of wanting to spite his father and one too many drinks, but no matter how good he thought he was his mother always managed to surprise him. And then there was the matter of his brother and father. He wanted nothing more than for them to burn with their continual mistakes, but he couldn’t. Whether it was out of some strange sense of loyalty to people who only made his life more difficult or to protect his mother who always stood silent at their sides when they tormented him, he didn’t know.
The only thing he did know was that he was about 15 hours away from another lunch with his mother and her gossiping group of friends where his father would decide not to show up at the last minute because Vasily wanted to go golfing in the Hamptons where they would undoubtedly spend the rest of the weekend philandering. Another weekend where his mother pretended she didn’t know what was happening, deciding to drop as much money as she could manage, just to irritate her husband. Then it would be Monday again, where Nikolai was left to pick up the pieces from the damage that his family caused, wishing that he could close his eyes and disappear off the face of the Earth for just a second if it meant he could be left without responsibility over people who didn’t care about him.
“What are you doing?” From between the shelves stepped out another lawyer, not just any other lawyer, it was Zoya. Zoya Nazyalensky was a talented lawyer who had joined the firm a few years after he had, right out of law school. She was skilled, hardworking, and an expert in making the most egotistical men shrink by simply raising her brow. They had worked a few cases together over their time at the firm, but more often than not, they had their separate cases that they chose to work on together. Most days they could be found in each others’ offices, working silently for hours with only occasional requests for advice or lunch orders. Despite all the time they spent working together, Nikolai, who considered himself something of an expert when it came to others’ feelings, had no idea if Zoya actually liked him or if she simply put up with him because he was the least terrible person at work. He always welcomed her company though.
“What are you doing here so late?”
She raised a brow before crossing the space and sinking into the couch cushions next to him. “I could ask you the same thing. In fact, I just did.”
“I’m putting some things together before the weekend.”
“Was your phone call that bad?”
Nikolai wanted to wince, “you heard that?”
“You were on speaker.”
“Saints, as if I needed that broadcast to the entire firm.”
“Oh, there’s no one here. You and I are the only ones left,” she said as she pulled off her high heels and curled her legs onto the couch.
“You haven’t answered my question, why are you still here?”
“You first.”
He sighed, she’d already heard the entirety of his conversation with his mother, it’s not like he could ruin her image of him further. “The sooner I go home, the sooner the reality of tomorrow will hit me.”
“Is getting tea with your mother really that bad?” she asked almost hesitantly.
Nikolai threw his head back, “I love my mother, but these luncheons usually involve my father ditching at the last minute to go and break his wedding vows, while my mother pretends she doesn’t know what’s happening
“And you have to go?”
“Someone has to make sure she gets home in one piece, and I trust her friends as far as they can throw me.”
“Isn’t the saying that you trust them as far as you can throw them?”
“I excel at everything I do, naturally but they can’t say the same.”
“Ah, I see.”
They sat in silence for a moment before she spoke again, her tone hushed as if speaking any louder would shatter the calm. “Is that why you don’t work for your father?”
Nikolai exhaled, “that’s a part of it.” His father was C.E.O of Ravkan Industries, and unlike his brother, Nikolai hadn’t joined the family business right out of highschool. Make no mistake, he wanted to be a part of the company, he knew he needed to be a part of it to spare the world of further misguided leadership from his family. It pained him, but they were the worst thing to happen to the company, and he often feared that he was the only person who could stop the trainwreck that was his family from derailing.
She nodded, “I know a thing or two about bad families.” Her legs had been drawn up to her chest, and she rested her head against her knees, eyes trained on him, “I can’t speak about anyone else, but your brother is definitely a jackass.”
“You’re right, I’m sure everyone who’s ever met him agrees. Speaking of which, when did you?”
“I came to your office a few weeks ago looking for you. He was waiting for you, gave me a sleazy once-over and asked me out. He got offended when I said no, and I told him that I didn’t date men who look like the Walmart versions of their younger brothers.”
Nikolai shook his head in amusement, “I’m surprised I haven’t heard him complaining about that. You must have really wounded his ego.”
“What,” Zoya said, fixing him with the withering glare she dished out when someone was being incompetent, “like it’s hard?”
“Ooh,” Nikolai groaned, rubbing a hand over his chest, “glad I’ve never been on the receiving end of one of those.”
She gave him a small smile, picking at a loose thread at her sleeve, “how do you usually spend your Saturdays when you’re not cleaning up their messes?”
“Go on a run, get pastries and coffee from the bakery across the street, read a book with my cat, catch up on some shows…”
“That sounds…. surprisingly pleasant.”
“ What did you think I got up to?”
“I don’t know… peach picking or something?”
“Aren’t you allergic to peaches?”
Zoya looked startled for a second, “yeah, how did you know that?”
“That time that we helped Genya with her groceries because she broke her leg? You weren’t paying attention and grabbed them, 10 minutes later you got hives.”
The look she gave him was intense and assessing, had he said something wrong? As much as he liked to think he knew how everyone operated, Zoya Nazyalensky was a bit of an enigma to him still. “What about you? What are you doing tomorrow?” he said in an attempt to maintain the conversation.
“I’ll go on a run with my dog, get breakfast, do some work, get some flowers and do my laundry. The usual.”
“Have you ever had lunch at the Palm Court?”
“No, but my aunt took me to the champagne bar when I graduated,” her smile was small, “it was the nicest night I’ve ever had.”
“I can’t promise that tomorrow will be anything less than a disaster, but would you like to accompany me to lunch?”
Zoya fiddled with the chain around her neck, fingers running over the seams of the locket, as if she was contemplating opening it. “Would it be proper?”
“You said it yourself, you have nothing else to do tomorrow morning, you’ll get a ridiculously expensive and delicious lunch for free.”
“But wouldn’t I be intruding?”
“My father’s going to cancel at the last minute, remember?”
“And what if he doesn’t?”
“He will. He always does, and he is nothing if not a creature of habit.” His phone rang at that exact moment, “like clockwork,” he murmured. “Hello.”
“Tell your mother that I can’t make lunch tomorrow, Vasya and I are going golfing.” The line cut before Nikolai could reply, not that he’d been planning on it.
“So, Nazyalensky, are we on for afternoon tea then?”
She sighed, “fine. But it better be as tasty as you’re saying it is.”
“It’s absolutely heavenly. The Dom Pérignon really brings out the subtle undertones in the Pistachio Dacquoise Cake. And the Devonshire cream is absolutely to die for.”
“I didn’t understand half of that.”
“Don’t worry, after the first time, you’ll be begging that we go back.”
She raised a brow, “is that a challenge, Lantsov?”
He grinned, “when is it not?”
“This is a pity lunch, I’m not going because I actually care about you.”
Nikolai nodded understandingly, “of course, of course. This is strictly a pity invite too, since this brunch will definitely be more entertaining than a Saturday spent at home.”
“Great. So we’re on the same page then,” her smile was sharp and Nikolai felt his blood rush at the sight. Maybe tomorrow would be bearable.
***
“Anything I need to know before we go in?” Zoya crossed her arms over her chest, staring up at the façade of the infamous hotel the following morning, suppressing the urge to run home. Was she nervous? For what? To meet Nikolai’s mother? No, that couldn’t be it. She was nervous to lose her bet with him, that was it. He had called her early this morning to make sure that the terms of the bet were solidified, if she fell in love with any of the food, she had to accompany him to any future lunches, whenever he asked. If she won, he had to accompany her to any errands she wanted. She had thought about making him assemble all of her IKEA furniture for the foreseeable future on the way here and had nearly bumped into him while she daydreamed about him carrying her groceries every week.
“If a question doesn’t feel like a trap, then it is one. If it feels like it’s a trap, then it’s definitely a trap. If it feels like someone is fishing for a response, then that’s a trap.”
“So, everything is a trap?”
“Exactly!”
“And you do this every month?”
“More like every two weeks.”
“Saints,” she swore, “and you don’t get sick of the food or company?”
“Well, they do let a little bit too much slide about their husbands’ schedules, most of them are on the board of my father’s company, and if I can get on their good sides they might vote for me over Vasily to take over one day.”
“You’re always playing the long game, aren’t you?”
Nikolai raised a brow, “and you’re not? We both know your ‘favourite hangout spots’ are coincidentally the same places where you can poach clients from Fjerdan Holdings.”
“Wait,” Zoya frowned, ignoring him completely. “If your father and Vasily are both skipping, who else did you invite? I'm taking your father’s place and what about Vasily’s?”
“I’m honoured you think I’d be invited in the first place.”
“You’re not invited?”
“Only when Vasily cancels, which is every time.”
“They really don’t invite you to family lunches?”
“I’m something of a problem child to them.”
“Nikolai,” she said and he could feel her gaze on him, “are you sure about this?”
“Yes, Zoya. I’m sure.”
“Let’s get moving then, we’re about to be late.”
“Ruthless as always,” Nikolai sighed, pushing open the door.
“Punctual, as always,” Zoya retorted, following him through the lobby, “you should take a lesson or two from me on showing up on time.”
“Never heard of fashionably late, Nazyalensky?”
“That’s just an excuse people with no dress sense use to justify their inability to choose a functional outfit.”
“Ruthless.”
“Honest.”
***
“Kolya!” A blonde woman dressed in beige exclaimed, beckoning him over before pulling him down into a hug . Zoya looked down at her pale blue dress, was she too colourful for brunch? But no, Nikolai’s dress shirt was the same colour as her dress, surely that meant that it was okay. She’d forgotten the ultra-rich nature of Nikolai’s family and the way that high society acted. Sure she made good money at work, but this world, the world of her clients, was something else. She’d grown up eating lunchables when she’d lived with her parents, while she suspected that he had never eaten anything that wasn’t prepared by a gourmet chef before he went to university.
“Madraya, this is my friend, Zoya,” he said, pulling away, “she’s the one I told you would be joining us this morning.”
“Thank you for having me,” she smiled, trying to put on her most charming persona, The Nikolai, as she liked to call it.
Nikolai’s mother shook her hand enthusiastically, “Zoya, this is Svetlana, Kolya’s auntie. Please! Sit, sit.” The other woman assessed her slowly from head to toe and Zoya shot her a cool glance, a challenge, to which Svetlana turned away from. Off to a great start.
Zoya reached to pull out her chair, faltering when she felt someone else’s on top of hers. “Your jacket,” Nikolai whispered, “I can take it.”
She stared at him. What? She went rigid as Nikolai helped her out of her coat, the warmth of his fingers brushing against her skin, making her thoughts freeze too.
“You alright, Nazyalensky?” he murmured in her ear as he pulled her chair out for her. “You should stop staring, it’s rude.”
She rolled her eyes at him, whatever spell had fallen over her was broken now, “thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he winked in return, but she could see the surprise on his face. Did he really think she was so ruthless that she had no manners?
“So Kolya, tell us about how you and Zoya met!”
***
Lunch was rather mild, and nowhere near as horrific as Nikolai has mentioned. In fact, it was pleasant, certainly much more enjoyable than any meal she’d had with her own mother. Nikolai’s mother cared for him in her own vapid way, and once Nikolai had reiterated that Zoya was not his girlfriend, Svetlana had thawed considerably, both of the women asking her about her clothes, work, and life. The lies came easily, they always did when it came to her family. She wasn’t embarrassed by her past but she saw no value in mentioning the people who had conceived her but had done nothing more than that. Zoya was also not in the mood to be pitted by these women, and she spun them a web of what they wanted to hear. A girl from a rich family who grew up doing all of the things they had.
She told them details from trips she had always dreamt of taking with her aunt but that they’d never been able to afford, easily replying to their inquiries of, “oh, I love Paris! When you went, did you eat at the cafe 3 blocks east of the Louvre? With the 100 year old bakery? It’s a must!” with an exact order of their most deep-menu items. Zoya smiled as they tittered on about the delicacies, as if an evening dining there didn’t cost more than what a month’s worth of groceries had cost as a child. To them her weekends were spent at tennis practice at the local country club instead of split between doing homework, working at her aunt's cafe and in the mail room at the law firm across the street to earn a little money. She didn’t say this explicitly of course, but she didn’t deny it either when they acted like she shared their experiences.
She’d never spoken to Nikolai about her past, nothing beyond the fact that she was raised by her aunt and that she had a younger cousin. He’d never asked, not out of a lack of interest in her, she knew that— but out of understanding that she didn’t particularly care to share that information. In the world in which she now found herself, anyone that deviated from the norm was looked down upon and she refused to be a source of entertainment for them.
The conversation quickly turned away from her however, with a few carefully timed lines from Nikolai. He brought up childhood memories of his own that made everyone laugh, recounting his numerous hijinks through the years. He told stories about the more interesting cases he and Zoya had worked on recently, his flow pausing naturally to let her throw in her own banter as well. She learned of the multiple times Nikolai had nearly burnt their beach house down, how he once “accidentally” lured a hoard of sheep to chase his brother when they were visiting Scotland, and how he was the youngest in his highschool graduating class, finishing at 15 before going to university, and then sailing around the world for a year.
As enjoyable as seeing Nikolai’s nose scrunch when his mother recounted a particularly adorable story was, by the time the desserts rolled around, Zoya felt fatigued. How did Nikolai do this all the time? When he wasn’t charming his family he was charming clients, coworkers, whoever he needed to. She had enjoyed the afternoon a lot more than she had anticipated, especially the food which was heavenly, like he’d said. But in the end she was adamant not to admit defeat to Nikolai even if it meant more meals like this. She would rather stab herself with the salad fork than admit he was right— or was that the dessert fork? Why were there so many forks? She was granted a bit of a reprieve when the ladies saw another group of their friends and decided to go chat with them at their table. Then it was just her and Nikolai, who had gone unusually quiet and was staring at her empty plate quite critically. “What’s wrong?”
***
Nikolai had been right, inviting Zoya to lunch had been a great idea, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d genuinely enjoyed one of these lunches. She had been brilliant, with the way that she handled all of their questions and discussed topics that interested them, the way that she’d chimed in at the perfect moments in his stories to add a little detail that made the anecdote even better. Everything had gone better than he could’ve imagined, except for the fact that it looked like he might be losing their bet, and after today, he didn’t think he would hate these lunches if Zoya were attending them with him.
Af first he’d been genuinely worried that she wasn’t enjoying herself since her reaction to the food had been muted, but the longer he watched her the more he was able to figure out exactly what was going on. He knew she wasn’t touching the desert tower because she knew that it would be her downfall. Most of the sweets were exactly of her taste and she was desperate not to lose to him. What had she intended on making him do if he lost that she was fighting so hard to win?
“Try it,” Nikolai mumbled, pointing at the tea tower, “it’s delicious.”
Zoya rolled her eyes, “you’ve said that about everything so far.”
“I’m serious, Nazyalensky. You’re going to love this.”
“I’m going to love it, or you’re convinced I should love it so that you win?”
Nikolai pulled a face, “why can’t it be both? Come on, it’s a dark chocolate cherry custard, that’s pretty much all of your favourite foods.”
Zoya peered at the dessert as if she was holding herself back, “it does look slightly edible…”
Saints, she would do anything to beat him, wouldn’t she? Nikolai smothered his grin, holding out a spoonful of the custard to her, “you know you want to try it.”
She let out an exasperated breath, taking the bite. Her eyelashes fluttered as she tasted it and she turned to him, scowling, “damnit, that’s so good.”
“I won’t say I told you so, Zo,” he laughed, as she smacked his shoulder with one hand, the other wielding a spoon that was digging into the custard on his plate. She hated that nickname.
“Well, Nik, or should I say Nikky? Or Niko? Or Nikola? Or--”
“Ah, that’s enough, dear,” Nikolai groaned, he definitely had worse nicknames.
“Whatever you say, Kolya.”
“Who would’ve guessed that brunch Zoya was a gloater?” His tone was teasing as he leaned in, brushing the bottom of her lip with his thumb to get rid of a chocolate smudge. “I certainly figured you were the modest type,” he trailed off, realizing what he’d done.
“Me and gloat don’t belong in the same sentence,” Zoya said, but her voice was low and her eyes were trained on his fingers. Nikolai repressed the urge to sit on his hands or flee from the table, but she said nothing and neither did he.
“Kolya, sweetheart, be a dear and wait for your father’s card.” His mother was back. Nikolai shot out of his seat, walking over to her. “We’ll be down the street at Svetlana’s daughter’s boutique. Zoya, hon, are you coming with us?”
“Oh, I’ll just wait with Nikolai,” Zoya smiled.
“Of course, dear.” His mother then pulled him aside, “you should bring your girlfriend around more often. It’s been so long since you’ve brought someone home.”
Nikolai looked at her, bewildered, “girlfriend? Zoya’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends. Not even friends, coworkers is probably a better descriptor for our fully platonic relationship.” Was he rambling? He felt like he was rambling.
Instead of replying his mother simply patted his cheek with an infuriatingly knowing look before she followed her friends out of the dining room. Nikolai shook his head out, walking back to Zoya as they waited.
“ ‘Not even friends?’I have to admit, that’s probably the best thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” Zoya said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
“I was just taken aback,” Nikolai protested, “of course we’re friends, okay,” he said, raising his hands in surrender at her pointed glare, “I consider us friends at least, I don’t invite strangers to the brunch from hell.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” she scoffed, flicking a piece of lint from his lapel absently. “The food was good, and they were nice enough.”
“Oh, they’re not nice at all,” he laughed, turning to take the card from the approaching waiter, “you just knew how to handle them.”
“I suppose I’ve spent enough time with clients like them to know how to act,” she frowned, “I didn’t really have to think about it.”
“That makes you a perfect fit in their social circle,” he winked, holding the door open for her, “you’re clever enough to outsmart them all, they can’t get anything from you unless you want them to have it.”
“I thought being clever was your brand?”
“I’m okay with having a worthy companion in that bracket.” Nikolai jested, surprised when she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow as they began their way down the street. She probably just needed to keep her balance, he couldn’t imagine navigating the cobblestone path in the high heels she was wearing. He couldn’t recall her ever wearing anything but heels, now that he thought about it. Perhaps she would require further assistance walking in the future, he didn’t think he would mind that.
“But really,” she said, tilting her head up to look at him, “you’ve never thought about us?”
Nikolai turned away for a second, unsure of what exactly to say, and when he turned back to her, she was already looking away. “I can’t say I have. To be fair, I didn’t think you liked me until yesterday, or that you considered us friends until today.”
“Of course we’re friends,” she scowled, punching his bicep with her free hand, “we’ve been friends for years, you dolt. You think I waste my free time on people I can’t be bothered to tolerate?”
“Oh.”
Zoya rolled her eyes, “yes, oh. I always knew I was smarter than you but this is pathetic on your part, Lantsov. What did you think when I gave you that scarf for Christmas?”
“I thought you were just being nice?”
She groaned, “take that back. I’ve never been nice a day in my life.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes before she spoke, “you really didn’t think, ‘hey, we do our work together at the office, we have the same friends, and I’m the only person in the office that Zoya hasn’t threatened to throw out the 29th floor window? so maybe that means something?’”
“You threatened to throw me out the second floor window 3 days into working at the firm.”
“Exactly!” she nodded, “you would probably survive that fall. That was essentially me telling you I didn’t hate you that much.”
“You work in mysterious ways, Nazyalensky.”
“Hold on,” Zoya put out a hand to stop him, “your collar is up.” She stepped towards him, fingers brushing his neck as she folded the fabric, her gaze intent upon him.
“If it weren’t for my newfound knowledge that you consider us friends, I would think you were considering strangling me.” Nikolai laughed, feeling her pause in her movements.
“That can certainly be arranged,” she teased, smoothing out the lapels of his coat, her hands resting on his chest for a second. Her eyes met his and she looked away quickly towards the boutique, freezing when she saw the occupants staring out the window at them. “Why are they looking at us like that?” Zoya murmured.
“I think that Svetlana thought she could get me to marry her daughter.”
“Aren’t you all about love, is it really that bad of an idea? She owns a boutique, that’s pretty cool.” She stepped back, shoving her hands into her own coat pockets, and Nikolai instantly regretted opening his mouth.
“I’m not really her type.”
“I thought you were ‘everyone’s type?’”
“Am I?” Zoya turned away from his gaze, and he thought he saw her face flush. “She dated Tamar a few years back, and then she was with my sister for a few months, but I doubt her mother knows if she’s dating anyone right now.”
“Wait, wait, wait. You have a sister?”
“That’s a story for another time,” Nikolai grinned. “It may cost you another lunch date.”
“If they have food as good as today’s, every Saturday is yours.”
Nikolai smiled as Zoya waltzed into the boutique, an elegant but disruptive storm in his life. She hadn’t flinched when he’d called it a date, hadn’t hesitated when he’d asked her to accompany him again, hadn’t protested at the fact that he’d won the bet. Despite all the good that had come out of the day, he felt something gnawing at his chest, ‘what, you’ve never thought about us?” and he doubted it would ever leave his head now. ‘Whatever’ Nikolai thought, trailing after her. It wasn’t like even if he wanted to, they would ever be together. There was no use in worrying over something that would never happen.