Red Alpha: A BWWM Russian Alpha Billionaire Romance (15 page)

The smart thing would be to leave. She couldn’t risk either Demyan’s sister or someone worse discovering their indiscretion.

On the other hand…Cresseda had instructed her to get close to him. To
use
the man to acquire the information Danshov wouldn’t give up so easily.

While the notion of manipulating Demyan didn’t quite sit well with Cadence, snooping around his room was no less dangerous.
Especially
when the man himself was sleeping there.

…But who knew when she would have another opportunity like this? Cresseda was counting on her…her
country
was counting on her…and she was counting on herself to live up to her sister’s legacy.

Five minutes, she promised herself. Five minutes, and no more.

Casting a last glance at her Russian lover’s sleeping form, Cadence quickly donned a silk shirt that he’d cast aside and began her quick perusal. She was lucky enough that the moon provided sufficient natural light for her to be able to see clearly; and so, clutching her makeshift garment to herself, she started closest to the window.

There were more than a few bookshelves, each of them filled with various Russian texts on any number of subjects. History, religion, politics…if her situation weren’t so precarious, she might want to ask the man to read some of them.

There was another desk, much like the one he had in the library, and she went through the surprisingly unlocked drawers quickly and quietly. There wasn’t much more than errant office supplies, a few hastily scrawled letters, and an empty pad or two.

Cadence made her way across to the sitting area, looking through the drawers of the small tables there. She had no idea what she expected to find – she would assume that anything of import would be safely locked away in the man’s office, and it wasn’t as if she could look as thoroughly as she liked when he was present anyway. The young woman’s heart thundered in her ears with every movement she made, her pulse racing. As she had no idea how deeply Demyan slept, she had to be prepared for a scenario in which he awoke within an instant and she had to explain herself.

And she didn’t relish the idea.

Exhaling softly, she decided to move to the bathroom. At least she could lock the door while she snooped there – perhaps even indulge in a quick shower.

Before she could pass into the smaller room, however, her eyes fell on an elegantly carved coat rack standing just outside it. Upon one of the many hooks hung the heavy black trench coat that Demyan wore every single day. The one that he had draped over her when she was soaked that fateful day in the streets. She might have assumed that the man would have it cleaned after the event but, so far, it barely left his person. He took it off only in his own home, and even then, it was never far from him.

On impulse, Cadence reached for it. Silently, she smoothed her hands over the soft wool until she reached the front pockets. One of them was empty, but the other held the outline of a smallish book of some sort.

Her mouth pursed, the young woman reached into the pocket to withdraw a small, unmarked black notebook. The thing was battered as if it had been to hell and back – completely at odds with the refined figure that Demyan projected – and closed with a thin elastic.

She undid it without hesitation, opening to the first page.

And her eyes immediately widened.

The text was in Russian, of course, the writing small and neat. It was, what appeared to be, an outlining of accounts. Cadence was immediately confused. Demyan had volumes upon volumes of ledgers that he kept locked away in the library to detail the Boykov finances. Why would he need to carry something like this around?

Cadence read through the first few lines, chewing her lip thoughtfully, when she realized that the funds outlined in the makeshift ledger weren’t technically part of the Boykov accounts. According to what was written, the record was for Boykov money allocated to outside purposes. Very
specific
outside purposes.

When Cadence turned the page, she fought to swallow a gasp.

There it was. Plain as day.

Millions and millions of Russian Rubles allocated to Russian defense and weapons development. Everything from long range missiles to tanks and fighter jets. There were, she realized as she read on, quite a few allocations of money to an unknown informant who was apparently passing the blueprints for several confidential US defense designs onto Russia to copy – and in the past five years, the amount of money the Boykov family contributed - that
Demyan
contributed – to a purpose supposedly funded by Russian taxes, had increased an exponential amount.

As if the Russians were stockpiling for something.

Cadence’s stomach churned as she turned page after page. The more she read, the more her sense of unease grew.

There were contributions from various countries in the Middle East, from Chinese terrorist groups…the list went on and on as she took in details about incoming diplomats from other countries and how weapons development sloughed off when the manufacturers might be in danger of being discovered.

There were records of correspondence with Osip that detailed numbers of hidden caches that would send the US government into a frenzy, as well as an outline of the possible devastation that such weapons would wreak if used on enemies of the Russian State.

The information was incriminating to a certain extent – of course, Russia wasn’t sanctioned for such an immense arms build-up through treaties they had signed, but on the other hand, everything expressed in Demyan’s little book seemed to be, in large part, speculation. Osip had ordered no large scale attacks, and there were no definitive plans for any large scale conflict in Russia’s future.

Or, so she thought.

Absorbed in her task, Cadence read right up until the last page of the notebook – where she found something that shocked and terrified her.

There were a series of dates, along with figures that indicated the increasing purchase of weapons grade plutonium for the past three years. There were a number of lines that seemed on par with what the US believed Russia’s nuclear capability to be, and then there was an entirely different set of figures. One which, if referencing the scale of Russia’s actual power, could be devastating.

Far more so than the US could ever have imagined.

If they were accurate, then Cadence was basically looking at proof that Demyan Boykov had all but single-handedly funded the emergence of Russia as a fucking nuclear super power.

Jesus Christ
.

“Chto delayesh'
?” What are you doing?

Cadence froze, a finger of ice working its way down her spine.

Demyan’s tone was unmistakably cold, and the fact that he spoke Russian meant that he expected her to understand him.

That he
knew
she had been playing dumb.

Slowly, Cadence closed the small notebook in her hand. She turned to see Demyan sitting up in bed, his green gaze narrowed on her. Every muscle in the man’s body was tense, and, for the first time, the young woman realized that the power in that body could very effectively be used to do her harm. Her gaze met his, and the lack of warmth there had her suppressing a shudder.

Fuck
.

How the hell hadn’t she been more alert?

Her mind whirled for a brief moment as she tried to figure out a way to exonerate herself. “I know you can understand me,” Demyan continued firmly in Russian, his eyes never leaving hers. “Answer me.”

There was nowhere for her to run and nowhere she could hide. Taking a deep breath, she answered him in his mother tongue. “Demyan, please listen to me.”

Green eyes flared in a mixture of anger and slight surprise. “Are you a spy?” Demyan spat the words with such disdain that she almost flinched.
Almost
.

This wasn’t what she wanted. He was looking at her with an almost murderous fury and Cadence didn’t doubt for one second that he was capable of it. Not even with all they had shared.

There had to be a way to salvage this. “Demyan,” She started again, softer this time. “Please-”

He was up and out of bed in a trice and Cadence barely rolled out of the way as he grabbed at her with powerful arms. She darted past him and into the sitting room, knocking an armchair over in an effort to put distance between them. Demyan, however, leapt over it, grabbing the tail of the shirt she wore to yank her backwards so she grunted.

The little leather book went flying from her hands as she slammed into his chest. The immense Russian man caught hold of her arms, twisting them painfully up behind her back and Cadence bit back a cry, slamming her head backwards into his nose.

Demyan released her with a surprised curse and Cadence shoved him away to leap over the bed, training and pure adrenaline melding together in her head. She was caught somewhere between self-preservation and terror as she watched Demyan wipe a trickle of blood from his nose. Then, he went after her again.

The young woman leapt over the bed, sliding a book at him, only to have the Russian knock it aside, almost tearing the sheets in an effort to get at her. His expression blazed pure fury, and when Cadence, trapped, lashed out at him, he hit her with enough force to send her head back into the wall with a resounding
crack
.

Her ears rang and the world swam briefly before her. Cadence, however, gritted her teeth at the pain, managing to duck out from under Demyan when he lunged at her. He turned on his heels to meet a brutal kick in the chest served from a powerful thigh and hit the bedside table with a low din and a curse.

Cadence searched for the little book briefly, even as Demyan cracked his neck, his expression grim. “You deceitful American
cunt
.” He spat the words in English, for her benefit, and the young woman forced herself to swallow the pain they caused. “You came to kill Osip, did you not?”

Her eyes widened.
Kill
the Russian Prime Minister? That was a laugh. How the hell was she supposed to manage that when she was being watched day and night? When almost everyone in the goddamned city knew her face!

“
No
.” She managed, staring Demyan down challengingly. “I could give two shits whether Danshov lives or dies.”

“
Liar
.” A low sweep of Demyan’s arm sent her stumbling into the window and she struggled to right herself a split second before his fist connected with the place her head had been a millisecond prior. The glass cracked, tiny lines spider-webbing out from the point of impact, and Cadence took the opportunity to knee Demyan in the stomach.

Hard
.

He groaned, doubling over even as he reached for a handful of her hair to jerk her away from him.

But she wasn’t having that. She needed to end this. Her head was spinning and she was pretty sure that Demyan’s blow might have dislocated her fucking shoulder. Dropping to the floor, Cadence kicked his feet out from beneath him so he landed on his back with a low grunt before straddling his throat, her hands tangling in his hair to pull his neck taut. “
Stop!
” She snapped in Russian, trying to catch her breath as her shins pinned his arms to the carpet. “For the love of
God,
listen to me.”

Her position was precarious. She was wearing close to nothing and, ironically, the man’s heaving breaths against her thighs were doing nothing for her composure. “Demyan, I don’t
want
to, but I could snap your goddamn neck with my thighs.
Stop
.”

That did it.

He went utterly still beneath her, glaring at her through her heaving breaths with an anger so intense the thought she might be sick from it.

“Everything that you
are
is a ruse,” He spat, “You’ve lied.”

“
Yes
, I lied.” She replied sharply, she held on him firmly. “But not because I want to fucking kill Osip Danshov. Do you
really
think the US would send just one person?
Me
? I stand out like a goddamn sore thumb here.”

For a moment, the silence stretched between them and she finally found her heartrate slowing somewhat. “So…” Demyan finally growled lowly, “What do you want? I can tell you now that even if you manage to kill me, you won’t get far.”

“I don’t want to kill you.” Cadence snapped almost immediately, irate herself. “I don’t want to kill
anyone
. I came here for intel. To make sure that Danshov isn’t planning to launch a nuclear – or any other attack on the US. Reconnaissance
only
.” Her gaze darted to the black leather book that had spun off into a corner as her chest tightened. “So, to that affect, I’m going to need you to answer some questions.”

He scowled darkly. “
Fuck
you.”

Cadence’s expression became almost pained. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her, was he? It was her own goddamn fault – failing at sneaking around. “Demyan,
please
.” She had to be insane. Was she really going to let her feelings for this man keep her from taking out an obstacle and completing her mission?

In her training, there was no question as to what should be done in this situation. She should incapacitate him until she decided what needed to be done.

So why wasn’t she acting.

“I
need
you to understand. Are you really going to sit by and watch while Danshov kills thousands…maybe millions of people? I may not know you, but I find it hard to believe you’re capable of that.”

At her words, the man’s expression softened somewhat. The anger appeared to bleed from his eyes as he relaxed slightly. Cadence stared down at him with bated breath. Slowly, she began to loosen her hold on him.

What happened next took place within a fraction of a second.

Bucking powerfully, Demyan tossed her off of him, climbing atop her quickly. His hands encircled her throat and he began to squeeze. The combination of his weight atop her and the pressure on her windpipe made struggling almost impossible. Cadence’s eyes widened as she clutched at his wrists, thrashing minutely.

Demyan was strong. Stronger, even, than she had anticipated.

Within thirty seconds, the edges of her vision began to go gray.