A Very Russian Christmas (10 page)

“I want you to have the very best, Vee.”

“I know you do.” Her gaze flicked toward the ceiling, and he spotted the sprig of mistletoe tacked above them. His breath caught in his throat as she rose on tiptoes. Certain they were playing with fire, he started to turn away from her, but every fiber of his being screamed for him to hold still and to let her have this moment.

Her soft lips brushed his cheek. It was the simplest, most innocent of kisses but it branded his skin like a searing hot iron. His eyelids briefly touched as the sweetness of her gesture raced through him, setting his body alight with need and love.

Holding himself in check, Nikolai returned the favor with a peck to the crown of her head. “
Sladkih snov
.”

She smiled up at him upon hearing the tender wish for sweet dreams. “Good night, Kolya.”

Out in the cold night, he waited to hear her lock the deadbolt and doorknob and slide the chain into place. He let the rush of frigid air blow across him and chase away the agonizingly hot need burning through him. He wanted to knock on her door, tangle his fingers in her dark hair and kiss her until they were both breathless and panting. Allowing some of that weakness to win, he touched his forehead to the freezing cold door between him and the one thing he wanted more than anything in the world.

When the moment of weakness fled, he straightened up and strode out to the idling SUV. Kostya gave him a look as he placed the box on the dashboard but he didn’t say anything. His confidante and right-hand man had long ago learned to read him. Kostya didn’t offer unwanted opinions. It was one of the reasons Nikolai liked him so much.

They were barreling down the interstate when Kostya finally spoke. “Besian has a nice game starting in half an hour. You want to come?”

The thought of whipping the Albanian’s ass in a game of cards was tempting. “Where?”

“The back room at Wet.”

Nikolai lips settled into a grim line. “You know my policy on strip clubs.”

“I do, but technically Wet is a gentlemen’s club.”

“If you say so,” he grumbled, thinking of the very ungentlemanly clientele. “I’ve made my feelings perfectly clear on that sideline, Kostya. We don’t deal in the skin trade in this family. I let you make your money with Besian in those places because you’re the most loyal man I’ve ever had in my crew, and I’ve asked you to do some terrible things. I’ll turn a blind eye to your involvement and thank you not to ask me to accompany you to one of those places again.”

Kostya was quiet for a few seconds. “
Da
. Okay.”

Stretching out his legs, Nikolai sighed. “Good.”

They were pulling into the driveway of the historical mansion Nikolai had painstakingly renovated when Kostya piped up again. “She’ll come around, boss.”

He glanced at his friend. “To?”

“The car,” Kostya clarified. “She’s in a strange position. You’re her boss. People already talk.”

He went rigid. “What people? What are they saying?”

Kostya shrugged. “Some of the other girls at the restaurant. Some of the old-timers who hang around at lunch. Some of the men in the crews. They see what you’ve done for her. They…speculate.”

“Speculate? About what?”

“You know.”

“I don’t.”

Kostya seemed reluctant to say the words. “They talk about Vivian being your mistress.”

Nikolai had no doubt that Kostya used a nicer word than others were throwing about. “The next time someone says something like about Vivian, you send them to me and I’ll straighten them out. She isn’t that sort of woman. She’s
good
.”

Kostya held up both hands. “I’m just trying to help you understand why Vivian is so leery about accepting the car. It’s not easy for her.”

“I never meant—I’ve only ever wanted to make life better for her, to give her things that she deserves.”

“At some point, you have to choose. You can’t be her protector forever. If she falls in love with another man, it won’t work. So you had better decide what you want with her and make your move. Otherwise…”

He understood what Kostya was saying. “It’s not that simple. You know it’s not that easy. My position here is dangerous. The people close to me are the most vulnerable.”

“She’s already vulnerable. Her father is Romero Valero. It doesn’t get much more dangerous than that, boss.”

He conceded that Kostya had a point. “It’s not the right time.”

“Is it ever?” His friend held his gaze. “You’ve seen what Vanya, Dima and Yuri have now. You could have that with Vivian.”

“I’ve also seen how close my friends came to losing their women.” The vision of a bound Lena and stabbed Yuri flashed before him. He glanced at his clean hands but could see the phantom stain of so much blood on them. “I can’t risk her. She’s everything to me.”

“And what about what she wants?”

Nikolai’s gaze snapped to Kostya’s face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you haven’t factored what Vivian wants into your decision. She’s part of the equation. Her opinion matters.”

“She’s too young to know what she wants.”

Kostya snorted. “God, I want to be there when you tell her that. It will be epic.”

He frowned at the cleaner. “Don’t you have a poker game to attend?”

“I do once you get the hell out of my SUV.”

Chuckling roughly at Kostya’s rude retort, Nikolai gathered his things and opened the door. “I think I like you better when you’re silent and brooding. This other you? The driver’s seat psychologist? He’s fucking annoying.”

Kostya laughed hard. “Get out. Go inside. Feel sorry yourself.”

“I hope you lose everything at the table tonight.”

Kostya shot him the finger, and Nikolai slammed the door shut. Grinning at their uncouth behavior, he entered his house, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and moved to his library. He kicked off his shoes, peeled out of his tie and rolled up his sleeves. Comfortable in one of the reading chairs, he adjusted the light behind him and opened the scrapbook.

Sipping his beer, he thought of how much work Vivian had put into the gift. He let his finger drift along the design she had drawn on a baby shower page. Her smiling face had been caught in the snapshot as she brought out a silly diaper-shaped cake for the mother-to-be. Even with her hair in a ponytail and wearing the rather plain-looking waitress uniform, Vivian took his breath away. His finger circled her face.

Closing his eyes, he remembered the heat of her lips against his skin. Was Kostya right? Was it time to ask Vivian what she wanted? Was he brave enough to bear the possible rejection? If she wanted him—unlikely as that was—would she have the courage to stand at his side, or would she flee at the first sign of danger?

Danger…

A sixth sense told him trouble was coming. Houston had been quiet for far too long. He had no doubt that some new and violent outburst would rock the underworld. A whisper soft threat told him he would get his answer about Vivian’s courage soon enough.

As to the rest? He trusted that Vivian had been thrown into his life that muggy April night for a reason. Whatever it was, the answer would come in time. Until then? Well. He was a patient man—and she was worth the wait.

You can read Nikolai and Vivian’s story in NIKOLAI (Her Russian Protector #4) available now in ebook and print and coming soon in audiobook! Nikolai and Vivian will also be featured in a novel-length sequel to be released in Spring 2014.

Nine Ladies Dancing

KOSTYA

Taking the front entrance of the strip club where he was co-owner, Kostya Antonovich nodded at the two bouncers manning the door. Once inside the newly remodeled space, he let his eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting. The renovation project had cost them an outrageous amount of money but already they were seeing an uptick in business. The world-class décor and first-rate entertainment allowed them to charge higher prices too.

With the recent loosening of restrictions and a hefty annual fee, the entertainers were allowed to dance topless again within the city limits. That meant no pasties and no latex—and the men couldn’t get enough. An advertising campaign with some cheeky slogans and plenty of drink and dance specials were pushing men through the doors and keeping the girls busy. Bachelor party bookings were up, and online inquiries about private parties for upcoming business conventions were through the roof. No doubt about it, the next year was going to be very, very good for business.

“Mr. Antonovich!” Cherish, one of the hostesses, grinned warmly and ran her hand up his arm. “I wondered if we would see you tonight. Would you like me to send the usual to the back room?”

“Please,” he said, and deftly slipped her a tip. Glancing around the establishment, he noticed a handful of the girls giggling together at the bar and ignoring the customers. Though he didn’t relish being a mean bastard, this was a business and it existed for one reason—to make money. “Get those girls to work—or send them home.”

“Yes, sir.”

Crossing the floor, he eyed the nine dancers entertaining the heavy crowd. It had been Besian’s idea to do a play on the Christmas carol as part of their advertising. It looked to be working, especially with girls all decked out in red and green tinsel and Santa hats.

His gaze settled on the main stage where Sapphire, one of the club’s most popular dancers, whipped her blonde hair and gyrated wildly against the pole. Her dark skin had been dusted with enough glitter to highlight her voluptuous curves. He wasn’t at all surprised to see the money piling up on the stage. Thighs wide open, she crouched down to let the men get an extremely up close view of all her womanly secrets.

There were nights when Kostya felt sorry for himself, when he acknowledged that his cold and empty existence was one that most people would find unbearable, but then he would spend an evening at one of his strip clubs and realize that his life wasn’t nearly so bad. Here it was, Christmas Eve, and these pathetic losers were bellied up to a mirrored stage staring at a woman who wouldn’t give them the time of day if not for the cash gripped in their hands. They ought to be home with their families or friends but no. They were here in this soulless place.

As much as he liked to taunt Nikolai, he envied the man for his stance on these types of establishments and on the skin trade. Unlike a lot of the men who ran in their circles, Nikolai had principles. There were lines the boss didn’t cross, especially when it came to exploiting women or children, so strip clubs were never a part of the family’s earning portfolio.

That wasn’t to say they didn’t deal in some shady fucking shit. Guns, narcotics, black market pharmaceuticals—they dabbled in plenty of illicit earning waters but never,
ever
prostitution. It was a strange line to draw considering the underbelly they inhabited but it wasn’t up for discussion. Nikolai laid down the law, and everyone else toed the line—or Kostya and Sergei visited them.

These days, the boss seemed intent on forcing them into cleaner, less risky income streams. He sensed Nikolai had a plan brewing, but the boss would keep those cards very close to the chest until it was time to make a move. Kostya didn’t mind the secrecy because he trusted he would be the first to find out when Nikolai was ready. Until then, Kostya was happy not to have another secret burdening him. God knew he had enough to keep track of these days.

“Kostya!” Besian bellowed a greeting from his spot at the card table. Judging by the half-empty bottle of
raki
sitting in front of the Albanian mob captain and the pile of chips, the man was having a hell of a good night.

“I see you started without me.” He tried to get a peek at the other players’ cards as he moved to the open seat but only caught a glimpse of Sergei’s. Seeing the enforcer’s hand, he was glad to have missed this round. It looked like Nikolai’s bare-knuckle champion was about to clean out the Albanian captain.

“Drink?” Besian wiggled the bottle of plum-flavored liquor before splashing some into his own glass.

Kostya held out his hand and shook his head. “They’re bringing me a beer.”

As if on cue, a scantily clad waitress arrived with a tray of drinks. Water for Sergei, vodka and whisky for the men from Besian’s camp and an ice cold Shiner 97 for him. He made sure to tip the girl who brought in their drinks before taking a sip. Glancing around the room, he nudged Sergei. “Where’s Danny?”

Sergei shrugged, his gaze never leaving his cards. “Playing Santa Claus, I suspect.”

“Huh?” Kostya sat back, lit up a cigarette and watched the game play out in front of him. The rest of the table folded as Sergei raised the stakes and Besian stupidly blundered right into the trap.

“Those kids next door,” the behemoth explained. “I think he has a crush on the big sister. He swears up and down there’s nothing to it but…”

He thought about the townhouse where Danny lived. He’d been there once or twice and vaguely remembered the family that lived there. “That’s the dad with the drinking problem, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sergei glanced at Besian. “He’s on the books at the Black Eagle.”

“What’s his name?” Besian asked upon hearing the name of the social club where the Albanian loan shark Afrim Barisha took bets.