The Deception (10 page)

“After we eat, did you want to go see your grandfather?” she asks.

Tilting my head, I study her. “Sorry?”

“Your grandfather—the one who’s sick,” she says slowly. “You said he’d been transferred to a hospital here, because they specialized in what’s ailing him.”

I did? “Ah, yes, Sorry. Making love to you made me forget my reason for being here.”

Bemused, she shakes her head. “Look, I’m ready whenever you are. But... maybe in the meantime, we could buy more clothes, because I’m wearing my last set of clean ones.”

“Of course,” I had told her that I would buy more clothes for her, since we had to pack in such a hurry to come here. “After we eat, we’ll go straightaway.”

She releases me and walks to the bathroom to finish getting ready. I watch her as she brushes her hair and dabs lip gloss on with her pinky finger. Just those simple acts make me exhale in pleasure.

I turn away, knowing I don’t deserve the pleasure she brings me.

“My Roman,” she breathes, while I’m deep inside of her.

Mercilessly, I shove the memory away and concentrate on my surroundings, something I should have done hours ago. Carefully, I pull the curtains to one side and peer outside.

At first, like a drunk man becoming sober, I don’t recognize the buildings or the river running past the hotel, across the cobblestone street, and I have to take a deep, sustaining breath.

I look again, the beat of my heart steadying as I realize where we are.

Hotel Pariz
, Prague, in the Tower suite. Why in the hell did Viktor take us here?

A black Mercedes pulls up to the curb. The driver opens the door and two men, both tall and blond, step out. I clench my jaw as one of them glances upward.

Sebastian Romanov.

“That sorry fucker,” I growl. Somehow, Viktor not only drugged me, but also deposited us in the same bloody town and at the same bloody hotel as my half brother.

I check my mobile. There’s still no answer from Vladimir. So I text him again—
In Prague. Urgent—
and then toss my phone on the bed.

While Everly hums as she moves around the room, I track my target. Sebastian and our father seem comfortable with one another. I am not envious of Sebastian. I don’t feel anything at all towards him. The last time I spoke to Vladimir was over two years ago, and it was cordial more than anything else.

He knows I don’t care about reclaiming our lost years together. I have no desire to make peace, because I’m not at war with him in the first place. I accept my father for who he is, for who he will never be, and stay the hell away.

I doubt Sebastian feels the same way or has the opportunity to feel the same way. His younger brother, Christian, is the exception. He uses every opportunity to tell Vladimir to sod off, until recently, that is. Love is funny like that, and, by all accounts, Christian is very much in love with his wife.

Now
that
, I envy—the freedom to love and be loved in return. The freedom to move anywhere you want and settle down, without fear of reprisal from an organization that rarely allows its members to leave alive.

Could I leave? I’ve never thought of it before. I glance back at Everly. She smiles at me and shrugs into her coat, lifting her hair up and out. It falls around her shoulders in soft waves.

Before, I never had a reason to leave.

*** *** ***

W
e stop at the entrance to a rather dingy-looking cafe. She gives me an odd look. “You want to eat lunch here?”

“You will love the food.” Honestly, I have no idea if she will love the food or not, but Vladimir and Sebastian are across the street, dining outside, where anyone could come by and blow off their heads. People would scream and cause a big commotion, but no one would tell the authorities. No one ever does.

“That place looks more... inviting. We can sit outside,” she says, already pulling on my arm.

“No. I prefer this bistro.” It’s quiet, without much traffic, even at dinnertime. The tables by the window would provide just the right amount of cover and viewing of my half brother and father.

Viktor would expect me to do this. Normally, I would do this. I learn my targets’ habits—where they eat, where they sleep and who they screw. Contrary to popular belief, powerful men are rarely indiscriminate assholes—okay, so they
are
assholes— who stick their dicks in the first willing woman. They tend to sleep with the same woman who meets their needs, until they get bored. Or their wife finds out.

It’s all carefully choreographed, you see, much like the steps I’m trying to teach Everly without her knowing there’s a dance at all.

Everly sighs, longing in her eyes as she gives the restaurant across the street one last look. “Fine.”

Wrapping my arms around her, I dip my head to whisper in her ear, “I promise to make it up to you when we get back to the hotel room.” I bite her lobe and then suck.

She gasps and angles her head slightly. “You’d better.”

Reluctantly, I let her go and open the door. We walk inside, and thankfully, the interior does not match the exterior.

“It’s so pretty in here,” Everly exclaims.

Paintings hang on every available surface, while small vases of flowers adorn each table. White, lace tablecloths cover them and chairs made of a light-colored wood are ready for customers.

“We would like a table with a view of the street,” I say.

“Yes, sir,” the hostess murmurs.

She leads us to a table by the window, and I pull out a chair for Everly. After she sits, I take my spot of choice, with my back against the wall.

Everly looks at her menu, her brow furrowing. “I need some help reading the menu, or I’m going to end up ordering goat butt.”

“Goat butt is in season this time of year,” I say, reaching out to grab her chair and pull it closer to me.

She flicks her gaze to me and slides closer. “Is it?”

“That’s what it says on the menu.”

Her gaze narrows, and she shakes the menu at me. “Don’t get between a woman and her food.”

The server appears, and I order for the two of us. Everly’s eyes have narrowed into slits—the little witch doesn’t trust me to order her food, but she trusts me to take her on a trip halfway around the world? Women...

I grab her wrist and take the menu away, handing it to the server. Her wrist is made of delicate bones, but she has such power over me that it can bring me to my knees. I brush my mouth over the knuckles of her hand. “I could dine on you.”

Her lashes flutter. “I think you ate enough earlier.”

With a grin, I slide the tip of one finger across my bottom lip. “I still haven’t had my fill of you. In fact, I think room service is in order—dessert only. I have the urge to paint your nipples with ice cream and—”

“Can I paint you, too?” she asks, giving me pause.

“You want to lick ice cream off me?”

Biting her lip, she nods. “You can’t be the only one having all the fun.”

“I like that you’ve decided not to be so reserved with me,” I say.

Everly blushes to the roots of her hair. “You remember our conversation about that?”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” I cover her hand with mine. “Actually, I find it charming. I find you charming. If you want to be reserved, I’m happy to coax you out of your shell. If you want to be wild, then I’m happy to bend you over my knee—”

“Roman,” she hisses, looking around, but happiness is apparent on her face. “Our food is coming.”

As our dinner is placed on the table, I dip my head in acknowledgement of Everly’s unspoken wishes. “I’ll eat now.”

“My red face thanks you,” she says, and I can’t help but smile.

Viktor appears suddenly, his white-blond hair hard to miss, and sits down with Sebastian and Vladimir.

I nearly choke on my potato dumpling. The bastard. How he smiles so pleasantly at them. How he lies while sits and dines with the man he’s ordered me to kill.

My hands clench into tight fists.

“Roman? Are you okay?” Everly asks.

I turn my attention to her. Concern is etched on her face. I am not okay. I’m fucking furious, but there’s nothing I can do right now. Except lie.

Forcing a smile onto my face, I say, “I’m thinking of tonight. Of whether or not I should tie you to the bed or simply fuck you against the door. You’ll have to be quiet, or everyone will hear you scream. The doors aren’t soundproof.” That is not a lie.  And I have been thinking about being inside of her again, but it had been in the back of mind.

Her eyes widen, and then she glances away. “How about both?”

“Can you be very quiet, Everly?” I ask, warming up to this sort of distraction.

“I don’t know,” she says, peering at me through her lashes. “I’ve never tried before.”

“Looks like I’m tying you to the bed, then.”

“Are you going to be so...” her throat works, “
honest
during our entire trip?”

Acid coats my insides. I’ve never been completely honest with her, but in this... I can be. “Yes.”

She blows out a breath. “Good.”

“You’re not offended?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

Everly rolls her eyes in that playful way I’ve come to recognize. “Yes, I’m completely offended that a gorgeous, hot man with a killer body wants to sex me up one side and down the other. Someone get me a marker and a sign STAT, because protests are in order.”

I can’t hide my smile.

“Are you smiling again?” she asks in mock surprise. “I’m not sure what to think. What happened to my very starchy bookseller?”

She means this as a compliment, and I know she likes the stuffy side of me, too. “He is on vacation, yeah?”

Everly laughs, digging into her dinner once more. I finish my meal, pay the check, and then usher her out of the bistro.

We walk along the riverbank, on stones older than any American city, and stop every so often to buy clothes in shops that catch her eye. Everly seems to love it—her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are sparkling.

This isn’t the first time I’ve walked these very steps, but it is the first time I’ve done so holding a woman’s hand. Every now and again, she squeezes mine, as if to comfort me.

I nearly punch myself in the throat. Of course, she’s worried and wants to comfort me, I’ve all but told her my grandfather is dying. I haven’t been thinking of him; I’ve been trying to solve the problem of Viktor. He’s never been this involved before.

Then again, I’ve never been asked to kill a close relative before and an innocent one at that. I’m barely existing in a gray area, with a woman who’s firmly living in color.

“Who’s taking care of your cat?” Everly suddenly asks.

“The cat takes care of herself,” I point out. Perhaps one day, the cat will like Everly. The damned thing should, especially in light of Everly’s concern for her.

“But someone will need to make sure she has plenty of water and food, even if she can go in and out as she pleases.”

I stop Everly and turn her to face me. “The cat is well taken care of by Mrs. Tatum. I made arrangements before we left the States.”

Her eyes search my face. “I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t take care of an animal.”

“You were just being concerned.”

She smiles. “Yes. Exactly.”

“A concerned jerk,” I say lightly and she gasps, punching me in the arm. I fake a groan.

“That is not nice, Roman Smith.” We start walking again and she lays her head against my shoulder. “I can’t believe you would remind me of our first date.”

“It was that bad?”

“Yes.” She jerks upright, her eyes huge. “I mean,
no
!”

I give her a look.

“Okay, so maybe it was awkward at first.”

“Only at first?”

She laughs. “Don’t mess with my memories,” she warns, playfully. “If I want to think our date was the most perfect, least awkward date ever, then I will, Mister.”

“As you wish.”

She kisses me on the cheek. “Romantic man.” Pulling out her cell, she holds it up. “Let’s take a picture together.”

Uneasy at the thought of my image being Instagrammed or Facebooked or—dear God—tweeted, I grow stiff.  “What do you plan to do with it?”

“Send it to my parents and my best friend, Elle,” she says, lowering the phone. Her smile disappears. “You don’t have to take one with me. Solo selfies are fine.”

I rub the bridge of my nose. “I’m not opposed to taking a picture with you, but I’d rather not have it plastered all over social media. I enjoy my privacy.” Actually, I rather enjoy breathing.  My heart is fond of beating as well.

“I swear, Roman.” She shakes her head, clearly exasperated. “That’s all you had to say. Remember what I told you before? I’d never ask you to embarrass yourself for me.”

Grabbing her chin, I gently pull it up. “I am not embarrassed to be with you or take a picture with you. That was not my intention when I expressed my dislike of social media.” I search her dark eyes, willing her to understand all that I can’t share. “I know I’m not the most gregarious bloke, or even the most charming, but I—”

“I understand,” she says softly, and I blink.

“You do?”

“Yes.” She tilts her head to one side. “You’re shy and an introvert. That’s okay. I’m outgoing enough for the both of us.”

She thinks I’m shy and an introvert?
Good God.
I want to set her straight, but I can’t take away the pleased look on her face. She thinks she’s figured me out.

“Is it that obvious?” I say. Taking the phone, I hold it up and pull her against me. The sun is setting behind us, making dangerous shadows and a beautiful sky. I snap a few pictures of us, before handing it back to her.

She worries her bottom lip as she goes through them. A small frown appears.

“Did I manage to miss us completely?”

“No, you managed to capture some guy with a pissed look on his face. Stupid photo bomber.” She holds up the phone, so I can see the screen.

My gut clenches. It’s Petrov, the man, who, only a couple of months ago, attempted to kill me for murdering his brother.

THE DECEPTION

M
y hand immediately goes to the gun I’ve hidden at my back as I pivot. Petrov is headed our way, murder on his face.