The Score (16 page)

“I think every man has a weakness,” Ivan intoned dully. “I think with the right prodding, the right person, that weakness can come forefront and destroy them. Erik is not the only person in our brotherhood who knows his way around a bribe, or a blackmail, for that matter.”

Viviana’s mind went silent. “Anton’s judge …”

“Is a relatively good man. Divorced, with three adult children. A healthy, spotless twenty-year career as a judge. Certainly not the kind of man who would take a bribe, never mind hoping that you could get close enough to offer one he might want to take.

“But a blackmail,” Ivan continued, a bitter smirk growing, “… that is something wholly different. Judge Kander’s career may be spotless, but his father’s was stained with the scandal of women. Given Kander’s divorce was all handled privately with his wife being paid to keep quiet, he very well might suffer from that same adulterous affliction.”

“I don’t understand,” Viviana said.

“What if women were his weakness, Vine?”

She stilled. “What, we just set him up with a working girl and have the possibility threatened that it could go on record? That doesn’t sound like an intelligent plan.”

Ivan scoffed. “Because it’s not. What would that lead to, really? Kander losing his position, his career. A mistrial maybe, but charges could be redrawn the next day and Anton would be right back in prison. We’d be at square one.”

“A mistrial isn’t an option,” Viviana realized, though it was devastating.

“No, only a verdict. Not guilty, that’s all that will be acceptable. They can’t retry him for the crimes, and believe that Anton wouldn’t make the same mistakes again, so they’ll never come close to touching him after. However, if the only option is a mistrial and Anton leaving the country, he’ll do that, too. This plan may very well work for both of those options.”

“So, then what—”

“You,” Ivan interrupted, offering nothing else in explanation.

“Me?”

“Not a hooker, No,
you
, Vine. It would not only be the idea of blackmail, but that perhaps the judge was involved with criminal activity, particularly, involved with the wife of mafia leader. Mix that in with a healthy dose of fear, and we might have winner.”

Struck speechless, Viviana balked.

Ivan picked up on her plight instantly. “I’m not asking you to take that man to bed.”

“I should hope not,” she whispered. “Though it certainly tastes of that, and I don’t like what it implies or leaves behind in the back of my mouth. I can see why you didn’t bring it up to Anton, now.”

Her husband would have been in a right fit, to say the least.

“You said it right. Implies. Suggests. That’s all, just enough to make Kander know what it would look like, how it would paint him. Imagine if that judge had to stare back at the gallery and see you sitting behind Anton every day of trial. Think how it would feel for him to receive a package every day reminding him of the position he had put himself in.”

When Viviana didn’t speak, Ivan sat up straight and stood, brushing sand from his pants. “I suppose it’s pretty simple, you can do one of three things. One, be Viviana. The ever faithful, devoted wife of a man America is sure to hate. Stand behind him, give no comments to the hordes of reporters outside the courthouse, and watch them lock him away. Two …” he continued, turning to look down, “You can be someone new. Whoever you want, with your what ifs, your regrets, and your anger.”

“Or …
this
,” Viviana said, feeling her throat tighten when she couldn’t speak it out loud.

“The Bratva boss’s wife. Who she is, like she is. No apologies, tough as nails, and whatever it takes. Whichever you choose, you’ll find no judgement from me, Vine. I’m only giving you another way.”

Viviana wished her heart rate would go back to normal. “But what about Anton? If he found out that I had done something like that, even if it was nothing, just the idea of it … I’m the product of infidelity, Ivan. I would never do that to my husband, ever.”

“I know, but this isn’t the same, and you’re not going to be involved physically with a man, so to speak,” Ivan murmured. “Anton might find out, but that’s a risk you have to take. If he does, you handle it when it comes. That’s not what we worry about, now. How far are you willing to go?”

Again, Viviana sought out her son’s presence on the beach.

“It’s okay to be selfish, Vine,” Ivan added, not missing a beat. “To do it for you, for Demyan. To keep what you have because it’s yours. There’s only one person who will judge you for it, and that’s yourself.”

Viviana sneered viciously. “And my
husband
.”

“What would he do for you?”

She knew exactly what Anton had already done for her, so that point was moot. Feeling overwhelmed, Viviana blurted out the only words she could think of. “I’m pregnant.”

Ivan didn’t even glance back at her. “He doesn’t know, huh?”

“No.”

“How far are you willing to go?” Ivan repeated.

The truth ached as much as it relieved. “As far as it takes.”

Chapter Thirteen

“You must be the new girl.”

Viviana’s gaze flicked to the girl behind her in the vanity mirror. Tall, too skinny, with hair bleached blonde, and her small chest on full display but for the silk robe that did nothing to hide her nakedness, she didn’t seem ashamed standing there like she was. Viviana tried not to look bothered by her presence or brazenness.

“Sure,” Viviana answered, offering a smile.

Apparently it didn’t ring true.

“This your first time?”

Was it? Shit, Viviana forced herself not to bark a bitter laugh. Never in her life had she stepped foot inside a strip club, never mind even considering it. She purposely avoided Anton’s strip clubs like the plague that she felt they were. Women who based their worth on how well they could swing around a pole and how many dollars could be shoved into their G-string weren’t exactly her thing.

Unfortunately, Viviana didn’t have a choice.

And she was not simply there to watch. No, she was there to
dance
.

Anton’s trial date was just mere weeks away. It had taken Ivan great effort, and a massive amount of money, patience, and digging to find even a smudge of indiscretion on Judge Kander that was useable in any worthy way.

What Viviana was doing now was simply just a hunch. No one could guarantee the judge would show, no one knew for sure if this was the gentleman’s club he occasionally frequented under a name that had absolutely no relation to his.

It didn’t help that Viviana and Ivan needed to keep the things they were doing, the blackmail they were planning, as secretive as possible. They couldn’t take the risk Anton would find out. Viviana worried how his people would paint her if they ever found out the position she was putting herself in just in the hopes that she might get him back.

It had taken her the entire month she waited while Ivan dug, searched, and fed mouths with money for scraps of personal information on the judge for Viviana to figure out what she had to do.

Everything. Anything.

The guilt, the dirtiness she felt … None of that mattered.

“Hey, did you hear me?” the girl asked.

With a deep breath, Viviana went back to her paled reflection in the mirror. “It is my first.”

“Ah,” the girl drawled. “Well, take a couple slams of something hard before you go out on stage. Don’t let them get too close, and certainly don’t let them touch you.”

Viviana quirked her brow. “I’m doing a private.”

“Ouch. On your first? Jesus, that took me months to get. What lap did you sit your pretty ass down on?”

Anton Avdonin’s
, Viviana thought with an internal sigh.

“By request of the boss,” she said instead.

“Oh.”

Just then, a man slipped in between the red velvet curtains, jerking his thumb at the girl. “Sid, you’re next. Let’s go.”

The blonde gave him a nod in response before turning back to Viviana. “I’ll see you later, I suppose. What’s your name, anyway?”

Viviana reached for the crimson lipstick sitting on the vanity’s top. Her name didn’t matter. The girl would never see her again, likely. She certainly wouldn’t be coming back to this place once her job was done and she left.

But, with all the lies she’d already told to get where she was piling up, what would one more hurt?”

“Just call me Eve.”

“Like Adam?”

Viviana smirked. “Just like that.”

Eve did take the apple, after all. Sin with a single bite.

How was she any different?

***

Ivan’s fingers ticked under Viviana’s chin, encouraging her to look up. “Hey.”

“Hmm?” Viviana felt disoriented and nauseous.

“You okay?”

Viviana shook her head. “That’s a stupid fucking question.”

How on earth could she possibly be okay? Beneath the thin, thigh-high robe she wore there was practically nothing at all to cover her skin. Nothing but a sheer, lace white thong that contrasted against her olive toned skin, and a matching bra that was as see through as the underwear.

She had come to find out this gentleman’s club was not about the flash and dash of the whole scene like some were. It was not about the costumes the girls wore or the routine they put on. It wasn’t about the pole or the tricks. It was about the sensuality in their dance. The sex of a woman. The shape of their bodies, the beauty in their movements. Clearly, many took pride in the fact that it was a bit more upscale and classy than the norm.

They weren’t strippers, they were dancers.

Viviana didn’t give a shit. She still felt like a whore.

She was mother and a wife. Loved and respected by one man, not many.

Anton would find no respect or love for this.

“Look at me,” Ivan said harshly.

Viviana blinked through her reservations and worries. “What?”

He waved a hand at her, keeping his gaze diverted from the way the robe hung off her naked shoulders. It clung to every inch of her skin, showcasing the curves she worked so damned hard to keep below the silky fabric.

Never had Viviana wanted to cover herself up more than right then.

“What?” she asked again when Ivan stayed quiet.

“I know this is … hard.”

“No, you most certainly do not know,” Viviana spat. “I’m about to go out of my mind.”

Ivan’s throat bobbed with a swallow, his own nerves showing. “I’m sorry. I only meant to say we can call this off, if you want.”

She tossed a glance down the long, darkened hallway situated at the back of the club that led to the private rooms. VIPs were being settled, apparently. Getting their drinks served and whatever else they might need for the next little while. Viviana had called Ivan in last minute just to be sure she was doing the right thing, but she was starting to regret that choice.

“Did he show?”

“Yes, with his second cousin, as the source promised. The cousin stays out on the floor, not in the private room.”

Viviana tried to shake the upset that had her stomach rolling. “I need a drink, or a blunt.”

Ivan scowled. “You’re pregnant.”

Just ten weeks. Not even showing. No one even knew, yet. Anton still didn’t. Viviana didn’t know how to tell him. Besides that, the threat of her last pregnancy and how it ended in miscarriage loomed over Viviana. She didn’t want to tell Anton just to take it away from him again. Never mind how it would absolutely destroy her.

“Gee, thanks for the goddamned reminder.”

“I’m just say—”

“I know, Ivan. I’m nervous, that’s all. I wasn’t serious.”

Looking about as uncomfortable as he must have felt, Ivan rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Haven’t you ever … I mean, with Anton, like danced?”

Oh God, was he asking what she thought he was asking?

“That’s none of your business!”

“Lower your voice, Vine.”

“If I did, which I wouldn’t tell you, it wouldn’t be the same,” she said with a sniff. “That’s not what this is, and you know it.”

“But it’s not any different,” Ivan countered just as fast. “You move, you smile, and pretend if you have to. Keep your face out of sight as much as possible, be aware of the way your body looks, how he is looking at you. Be sure to use it to keep his eyes on you, but in the right spots. The server …”

Viviana felt her tension ratchet up a notch as Ivan trailed off. “What about the server?”

“The judge is going to be a tad more tipsy than normal, so keep that in mind. Only enough to blur his vision a little, to make him sway. He probably won’t even notice it, or think anything of it, and the effects will be gone by the time he wakes up in the morning none the wiser.”

What kind of alcohol did that? None, Viviana knew.

“You’re drugging him.”

Ivan smirked, but it didn’t look as confident as it usually did. “The server has, yes. She’ll also be beyond the curtains, getting the material we need for later. Be mindful of her as well and be sure to keep his attention only on you, even if she shows herself.”

Viviana couldn’t help it, she had to ask. “Who is this girl?”

“Someone who could be bought, Vine. There weren’t many in this club that could, unfortunately. Needless to say, she knows who you are, and me.”

That wasn’t good. “And?”

“And as much as I hate it, I will handle her before she arrives home, despite her help,” Ivan said with a frown. “No one can know; there can be no holes.”

“Eve?”

Viviana didn’t answer the call right away, but when the name was called again, she realized it was for her. Ivan, just as quickly, had slipped back into the darkness the hallway offered, hiding him from view.

“Your room is ready.”

The black, crushed velvet coat trimmed with snow white fur in her arms felt like the heaviest weight. Before she could second guess the situation any longer, Viviana slid on a mask, one she’d never worn properly because she hadn’t needed to before now.

The Bratva wife. From an Italian princess to a Russian queen.

As far as it takes. No apologies.

“You good to go, sweetheart?” the man asked.

Viviana simpered a demure smile meant to hide the turmoil she truly felt. “Absolutely.”

***

Sheer fabric separated Viviana from the small platform that led to a single pole in the middle of a ten-by-ten room. She knew the curtain did nothing to hide her figure behind it. The soft, shaded light kept the private room darkened and personal.

The fur coat she wore in exchange for the previous robe was heavy and warm on her body. Any other time, she would have enjoyed the sensation of that expensive pelt on her naked flesh, knowing that what lay beneath the coat was a gift wrapped in sin that her husband loved to expose and ruin.

But it wasn’t Viviana’s husband on the other side of the curtain.

The oversized hood trimmed with white fur on the coat shielded most of her face from view, hiding the frown tugging her painted red lips down and the eyes she had screwed shut. With calming breaths, Viviana once again reminded herself of why she was doing what she was doing.

For her children, for her husband, and for herself.

It made it easier. It helped to ease the sting left behind as the dignity and honor she had been raised with melted away. Viviana couldn’t help but think of Ivan’s earlier question. Had she ever danced for Anton? Yes, she had. But like she had said, it was nothing like this.

That had been a sensual dance of tantalization, seduction, and desire. It had been his fingers trailing the curve in her waist while his mouth burned a hot path between the valleys of her breasts. There had been no stage, no pole, and no lighting. Just the drag of skin on skin, soft sheets beneath her knees, and his hands gripping tight enough to keep her steady. The music had not come from speakers in the wall, but the throaty hum building with a thick, deep crescendo from his chest upwards.

Viviana wanted that dance again. With Anton, always.

So Viviana calmed inwardly, knowing that to get that dance, she’d have to do one that would take more from her than she was willing to give. On the outside, she hid beneath the cloak of obscurity the hood provided before she reached up to hit the start button on the panel. A bluesy melody crawled through the speakers instantly.

Then, she stepped out beyond the curtain.

Keeping her face tilted down enough, Viviana’s eyes caught the silver glint of the metal pole and the man in his early sixties that sat just beyond it.

Sickness rolled.

Anxiety built.

The nerves didn’t show; Viviana walked forward.

Viviana had been told many times that when she walked, she swayed. The shift her hips, the delicate roll of her shoulders. Somehow, unknowingly, she commanded with a single walk, a fleeting glance, and a bare hint of a smile on her lips. In just those movements alone, she drew attention, she could persuade.

And wasn’t that the allure of all women?

The difference between others and Viviana was that she knew the influence of hers.

She also understood how to use it.

When Viviana’s hand came in contact with the pole, the coat opening enough to expose the expanse of her barely covered skin underneath, a quiet gasp echoed. As her fingers curled around cool metal, her confidence restoring, another appreciative sound resounded in the room.

Viviana didn’t mind that. She was aware of the sexuality she held in her body and how she looked standing in nothing but lace, fur, and skin. Anton never failed to remind her of how lucky he was to have something as beautiful as her at his side, in his bed, and holding his love.

This would be the first and last time Viviana ever used that beauty for her own gain.

Slightly slurred, the judge’s voice held the hints of the drugs creeping through his system. “My good God, you’ve got a beautiful set of legs, sweetheart.”