Read Online Pairing Off (Red Hot Russians #1) by Elizabeth Harmon - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Harmon
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deWylde’s smug, smiling face beside Carrie’s sad, brave one, came to mind. “Why do you say that?”
“Just an impression.” She stirred the ice in her club soda and looked wary, the way she did whenever she mentioned Hans, her ex-husband in Berlin. “He had mean eyes.”
Adrian brought a plate of shashlik and Anton took a skewer of scallops. They were sweet and smoky, perfectly grilled. If he moved out here, he’d have to learn to cook. He liked shashlik. Meat on a stick, thrown on a fire. Man food. How hard could it be?
“How are the programs coming?” Adrian asked, around a mouthful of beef.
“The short is fine. Pachelbel in D. Solid, but nothing groundbreaking.”
“Pavel is not a groundbreaking choreographer.”
“No, but the judges will like it. The free skate though...” He shook his head.
Adrian chuckled. Olga’s obsession with Eva Peron was well-known. This was their second
Evita
program in three seasons.
“It’s Olga’s style, though Carrie never complains. Actually, she’s an amazing partner. She works hard, she’s generous on the ice. People underestimate her. But God, if you saw her skate. It’s not just technique. She’s got this gorgeous presence, a natural feel for music.” The mere thought of Carrie’s determination and her graceful glide across the ice made him smile.
The choreographer’s mouth twitched, as he and Brigitte exchanged glances. “Do go on,” he said.
What the hell?
Anton shook his head, banishing thoughts that had no business being there. His overgrown bangs flopped in his eyes. “And of course, Che and I go way back.”
Brigitte lifted his shaggy hair. “Don’t let Olga or Vera talk you into cutting this. It suits Che.”
From across the deck, Olga’s laughter, loud and overly animated, floated above the music. She clung to Valentin’s arm, implying a relationship more intimate than it actually was. Valentin seemed content to play along. No doubt, his rabid female fans would be crushed to learn his actual love interest once headlined a Berlin drag show.
Watching them, the former Mademoiselle Adrianne knocked back a shot of vodka. “You know, if you and your little American decide not to cry for Argentina, you should talk to me. I have ideas. I thought I’d convinced him to try something new,” he said, nodding toward Valentin, “but it didn’t work out.”
“Life is easier when Olga is happy,” Anton muttered.
Brigitte gave Adrian a peck on the cheek. “At least he only has to satisfy her on the ice.”
Adrian laughed and put his arm around Brigitte. “A blessing for which I should be grateful. As for you Anton, don’t forget my offer.”
“Too late to change now. But thanks anyway.”
* * *
Late that night, they sat beside the fire. Wrapped in a blanket, Olga rested her head against his shoulder. The chill in the air meant summer was ending. Just like his skating career.
Valentin’s offer was tempting, but life still felt too unsettled. So much had changed so quickly. This time last year, he’d been thinking about marriage.
He and Olga had been together four years, and while the relationship wasn’t perfect, whose was? She was dropping hints about engagement rings. His family kept asking about his plans. He was twenty-five, and almost finished with university. It was time.
Then came rumors about Olga and an ice dancer. Olga and a footballer. She denied it at first, then admitted the truth, but swore the other men meant nothing.
The skating partnership was all that kept him from walking. It was a new season with competitions, money and tours. He and Olga were poised to become one of the world’s top pairs. But he was angry, betrayed. He’d been faithful to Olga, and she’d played him for a fool. So he went out with other women, and made sure she knew.
But the payback didn’t make him feel any better, and it ruined their skating. At the Cup of China, he stumbled on a combination jump in the short program. In the free
“Just an impression.” She stirred the ice in her club soda and looked wary, the way she did whenever she mentioned Hans, her ex-husband in Berlin. “He had mean eyes.”
Adrian brought a plate of shashlik and Anton took a skewer of scallops. They were sweet and smoky, perfectly grilled. If he moved out here, he’d have to learn to cook. He liked shashlik. Meat on a stick, thrown on a fire. Man food. How hard could it be?
“How are the programs coming?” Adrian asked, around a mouthful of beef.
“The short is fine. Pachelbel in D. Solid, but nothing groundbreaking.”
“Pavel is not a groundbreaking choreographer.”
“No, but the judges will like it. The free skate though...” He shook his head.
Adrian chuckled. Olga’s obsession with Eva Peron was well-known. This was their second
Evita
program in three seasons.
“It’s Olga’s style, though Carrie never complains. Actually, she’s an amazing partner. She works hard, she’s generous on the ice. People underestimate her. But God, if you saw her skate. It’s not just technique. She’s got this gorgeous presence, a natural feel for music.” The mere thought of Carrie’s determination and her graceful glide across the ice made him smile.
The choreographer’s mouth twitched, as he and Brigitte exchanged glances. “Do go on,” he said.
What the hell?
Anton shook his head, banishing thoughts that had no business being there. His overgrown bangs flopped in his eyes. “And of course, Che and I go way back.”
Brigitte lifted his shaggy hair. “Don’t let Olga or Vera talk you into cutting this. It suits Che.”
From across the deck, Olga’s laughter, loud and overly animated, floated above the music. She clung to Valentin’s arm, implying a relationship more intimate than it actually was. Valentin seemed content to play along. No doubt, his rabid female fans would be crushed to learn his actual love interest once headlined a Berlin drag show.
Watching them, the former Mademoiselle Adrianne knocked back a shot of vodka. “You know, if you and your little American decide not to cry for Argentina, you should talk to me. I have ideas. I thought I’d convinced him to try something new,” he said, nodding toward Valentin, “but it didn’t work out.”
“Life is easier when Olga is happy,” Anton muttered.
Brigitte gave Adrian a peck on the cheek. “At least he only has to satisfy her on the ice.”
Adrian laughed and put his arm around Brigitte. “A blessing for which I should be grateful. As for you Anton, don’t forget my offer.”
“Too late to change now. But thanks anyway.”
* * *
Late that night, they sat beside the fire. Wrapped in a blanket, Olga rested her head against his shoulder. The chill in the air meant summer was ending. Just like his skating career.
Valentin’s offer was tempting, but life still felt too unsettled. So much had changed so quickly. This time last year, he’d been thinking about marriage.
He and Olga had been together four years, and while the relationship wasn’t perfect, whose was? She was dropping hints about engagement rings. His family kept asking about his plans. He was twenty-five, and almost finished with university. It was time.
Then came rumors about Olga and an ice dancer. Olga and a footballer. She denied it at first, then admitted the truth, but swore the other men meant nothing.
The skating partnership was all that kept him from walking. It was a new season with competitions, money and tours. He and Olga were poised to become one of the world’s top pairs. But he was angry, betrayed. He’d been faithful to Olga, and she’d played him for a fool. So he went out with other women, and made sure she knew.
But the payback didn’t make him feel any better, and it ruined their skating. At the Cup of China, he stumbled on a combination jump in the short program. In the free
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