Russian Mobster's Princess (2 page)

“You’re saying that because of your wife’s death,” Kira said softly. “She’s one of the lucky ones.”

“She was murdered in the prime of her life,” Viktor said coldly. “How is that lucky?”

Kira shrugged one narrow shoulder. “She had the opportunity to love and be loved. Can we ask for anything else?”

Anything he might have said died on his lips. His last thought before he and his bride parted ways—perhaps for good—was that she was certainly far more than she appeared to be.

Chapter One

Three years later...

Kira shoved her cell phone back into her bag and continued to apply her stage makeup with a careful hand. Why her father was attempting contact now of all times was beyond her comprehension.

“Your dad again?” Tiana glanced over after applying thick black eyeliner to her brilliant green eyes.

“Yeah,” Kira muttered. She fiddled with her bun until she was satisfied with the placement of the baby’s breath in her hair. “I don’t know why he’s bothering. It’s not like he’s calling to tell me congratulations on finally earning the part of one of the fairies in Sleeping Beauty. He probably doesn’t even know if I’m still dancing.”

“So he just wants something?” Tiana guessed. “My dad is the same way.”

“Although, I think I’d rather that than to have a mother like Desiree’s,” Kira muttered. “The woman is so pushy that I hear she stormed the director’s office last week to complain that her daughter hadn’t gotten my part.”

“That part was yours,” Tiana said loyally. “You rocked that audition.”

“I’ve been working my tail off,” Kira admitted. “I would have been upset if I hadn’t gotten the part.”

“God, I’m so glad Sunday is the last performance of the week,” Tiana moaned. “My feet are
killing
me!”

“You need to toughen up.” Kira wrapped her toes and pulled on her worn baby pink toe shoes. She laced the ribbons up her calves and tied it all as tightly as possible. “I’m going to warm up. My call is one of the first.”

“Break a leg,” Tiana said dutifully.

“And you as well.” Kira smiled at her friend. She was glad to share a dressing room with Tiana. The other girl was warm and funny. Sometimes Kira was downright scandalized by the things Tiana was brave enough to say out loud.

“And don’t wait for me to come back to the dressing room after the show tonight!” Tiana waggled her eyebrows. “I have a date coming to pick me up!”

“Madame Bissett would rap your knuckles for that!” Kira wagged her finger at Tiana.

Tiana only waved off the warning. “I’m on birth control, and I need to get me some.”

Kira didn’t stand there like a moron and ask exactly what her friend meant by the word “some.” Occasionally Kira would overhear the other girls talking about the things they did with boys, or depending on the age of the dancer, a man. But Kira wasn’t brave enough to go there. When asked, she simply stated that she was married but estranged. It was a strangely comfortable place to be.

Lifting her leg to the barre in the area offstage used for warm up, Kira went through her stretching exercises. She closed her mind to anything but the dance she was to perform. She listened for the music inside her mind. She found her cues and allowed the comforting familiarity to sooth the tension as she stretched out.

“Such flexibility,” Madame Bissett murmured. “You are truly this old ballet dancer’s dream student, my girl.”

“Thank you,” Kira murmured.

“And dedication,” Madame continued. “I never have to worry about my Kira running off with some male admirer after a show and sacrificing her career for one night of pleasure.”

“No, Madame,” Kira agreed. “I am married, but happily alone.”

“Yes. You are one of the fortunate ones.” Madame touched Kira’s back. “A little straighter in the spine, please. Good.”

Kira sank into the haze of ballet. Her feet automatically found the positions they had first learned as a clumsy four year old. Simple plies, battements, all came in a fluid motion that was disturbed by nothing. Finally in the background of her mind, she heard the first call for her entrance. The ballet was in progress, and she was about to go on stage.

Excitement created a tight knot in her belly, but there was no nervousness. She kept a cool smile on her face and prepared for her cue. The other fairies gathered behind her, but it was for Kira to enter first. Then the call came, and she dashed out onto the stage with her arms in perfect position. Her night had begun, and nothing else mattered.

Nearly two hours later, Kira made her way back to the dressing room she shared with Tiana. She was glad for once that her friend had other plans. Kira was exhausted from a week of performances and would be glad for the respite of a Monday off.

Pushing open the door, she stepped inside and let the heavy thing slam closed behind her. Leaning back against it, she heaved a sigh. She couldn’t wait to get her toe shoes off. At this point, Kira was with Tiana. Her feet were
killing
her!

“Hello, Kira.”

She nearly fell over in shock at the male voice. Whipping around, she gripped the door handle and prepared to flee. Then she frowned. The man standing in the corner of her dressing room leaning so casually against Tiana’s dressing table was familiar.

Viktor.

What wasn’t familiar was her body’s instant and complete response to his proximity. Had he always been this handsome? She couldn’t seem to recall that his eyes had been that lovely shade of chocolate, or that his body had been so firm and muscular. And his arms looked so very strong. She wondered what it would feel like to have them around her. The memory of their wedding kiss ghosted through her mind, and she nearly tasted the spicy male flavor of him on her tongue. Everything south of her navel went up in flames, and she got an odd melting feeling at her core. What was going on?

“Viktor?” She couldn’t keep the shock from her voice. “Why are you here? Did you come to see the ballet?”

Of course, what she should have asked was whether or not he had brought one of his many women to see the ballet. Her father took great pleasure in mocking her over the fact that her husband could not be bothered to remain faithful.

“Kira, we need to talk.” Viktor’s tone was terse. “You’ve been ignoring your father’s phone calls all week long.”

“Yes.” She couldn’t imagine why Viktor should care. She made her way to her dressing table and sat down to unlace her toe shoes. “I have nothing to say to my father.”

“He was attempting to get in touch with you to make sure you are safe.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Viktor purse his lips in obvious irritation. “Do you have no concern for the worries of your family?”

“Since typically my father’s only worry involves his gleefully recounting the details of your last sexual exploit, no. I cannot say that I put much energy into worrying about what my father thinks, says, or does.” Kira did not even try to meet his gaze. She was so embarrassed she knew she would only blush like a schoolgirl. “I have worked very hard to put all of the mafia nonsense behind me.”

If Viktor was discomfited by her allusions to his infidelity, he chose not to address it. “Well, there are some things about the mafia that cannot be left behind or ignored. This is one of them.”

“How so?” Kira challenged. “I am twenty-one now. I am no longer a child to be ordered here and there by men who only want to trade me off in some asinine power play.”

VIKTOR CERTAINLY COULD not argue with Kira about that point. She was
not
a child. Even with her hair pulled so severely away from her face into a bun and the stage makeup altering her pixie-like features, he could see the incredible change three years’ time had wrought in his innocent young bride.

His fingers brushed the manila folder he had brought with him to the dressing room. The feeling of the cool paper brought him back to the moment at hand and his purpose for being there. “Kira, this is not a question of power plays or the games you believe we are playing. This is about your safety.”

“Really?” Her elegant brows rose in something that might have been called sarcasm. “Do tell.”

“Someone is targeting the wives of mafia lieutenants.” Viktor had to grit his teeth against the anger he felt at the senselessness of this crime. “At first it was just harassment, cutting tires and hang up phone calls. That sort of thing.”

“And now?” Unless he missed his guess, he had yet to actually gain her attention. “I mean, I hate to point out the obvious, but actually living the mafia lifestyle just means surrounding yourself with a bunch of thugs that would kill you if they thought it was to their benefit.”

Viktor picked up the folder he had brought and opened it. He walked the three steps to the other dressing table and tossed down the photographs he’d pilfered from the police. They were gruesome. Atalya Alexandrovna had been beaten so severely that she was hardly recognizable. Both of her eye sockets were shattered, and she had eventually died from a blow to the back of her head after three hours of surgery at a hospital.

Kira sucked in a quick breath and covered her mouth with her hand. Finally he had broken through that damnable self-control.

“Atalya,” she whispered. “Is she dead?”

“Yes. She died on the operating room table last night.”

He saw Kira’s throat move as she swallowed. “Atalya was married to one of my father’s lieutenants—Boris.”

“I know.” Viktor pursed his lips. “I’m sorry to scare you like this, but it is necessary. You must understand that you are in danger.”

“You believe that this—” She gestured to the photographs and muttered something dark in Russian. “—madman. You believe he will come after me?” Her delicate brow furrowed. “Why? I am no longer involved in the doings of the mafia. I am a dancer. I have not been a part of this world since I married you three years ago.”

“And yet that is the very thing that makes you so vulnerable.” Viktor gritted his teeth, hating the truth of this. “You are my wife, Kira. Therefore you are a target.”

“And what would you propose that I do? Hide in my apartment until this is over?” She shook her head so emphatically that the tiny flowers woven into her bun shivered. “I cannot do this. Sleeping Beauty runs for one more week. This is my first big part. I am so close to my goals. I refuse to let some petty mafia war ruin that for me!”

Her passionate speech touched him. Viktor wondered if he had ever experienced such a drive to do something that he loved, but could not think of one example.

He sighed. “Come with me to a safe house, and you have my word that I will do what I can to preserve your dancing.”

“Twenty-four hours,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I will go with you for twenty-four hours. After that, I must come back to the ballet. I cannot simply walk away in the middle of a performance run. That would be unforgivable.”

“Not even when your safety is at stake?” Viktor asked dubiously.

She held firm. He could see the fiery determination in her eyes. “Not even then. What does it matter if I am killed if staying alive means I cannot dance?”

“Surely you don’t mean that.” He gazed at her, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

She shrugged. “Believe what you want. I cannot imagine why you would even care.”

Viktor was taken aback. “You are my wife and therefore my responsibility. Of course I care about your safety.”

“Wife in name only,” she snorted. “And it isn’t as if you’ve taken any vows of that kind seriously, which leads me to believe that you have other motives.”

The wave of guilt that flooded Viktor at that mild accusation left him feeling uncomfortable and uncertain. He did not flaunt his liaisons, but he was a man. He had needs. How would she even know of such things?

She peeled off the wings and other fripperies of her costume and then pulled on a pair of leggings and a baggy sweatshirt over her tights and leotard. “Are we ready?” She picked up a bag and looked to him expectantly.

Viktor nodded and opened the door, glancing to the left and right. There was some post performance bustle in the hallways. Nothing struck him as out of the ordinary. He led the way to the car he had left in the alley to the side of the theater and wondered over the changes time had wrought in his innocent young bride.

Chapter Two

Kira could barely contain her horror over what had happened to Atalya. The young woman had been the closet thing Kira had to a friend within the ranks of the mafia. Her husband Boris was one of Anton Berezin’s most loyal men. That meant that Atalya had often come with her husband to meetings at the Berezin household. She had frequently drawn Kira into conversation with her friendly vitality and wit.

“Are you all right?” Viktor asked.

She tilted her head to catch a glimpse of him. He drove the car expertly and with a commanding presence that she found strangely attractive.

Trying to remain unaffected, she focused on the facts. “Where are we going?”

“To a safe house.”

Kira made a little sound of distaste. “Can you not keep an eye on me in my own apartment? I have things to do tomorrow.”

“For now, this will be safer.” It was his only response. There was no hint of the plan he intended to put into place to restore her independence.

They drove in silence. She stared at the dark shapes of the city buildings flashing by and wondered where they would go. Her apartment was near the ballet. “Do we have to go so far out? I feel safer when I stay close to the ballet.”

“There’s no point in staying in the same neighborhood when we’re trying to throw someone off your scent.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip. “I suppose that’s logical.”

He pulled into an underground garage. “Here we are. I had some of the boys go out and get some groceries in preparation for our arrival.”

“Wait.” Kira froze. “
Our
arrival? You’re staying here with me?”

“I thought you understood that I would be staying with you to make certain you are safe.” He pulled into a parking spot and put the car in park. “There’s no reason to be a prude about it. I won’t touch you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”