by Roxie Rivera
Yuri knew only too well the environment of Lena's childhood. His own had been just as miserable. At an extremely young age, he'd learned how truly cruel other people could be. He'd grown hardened and callus and angry. Luckily, he'd been smart enough to listen to a mentor who urged him to turn that anger into fuel that drove his ambition and got him out of the shithole of his youth.
Lena seemed to have done the same thing. When he'd first become enamored with her, he'd gotten her old address from Nikolai and had instructed his driver to take him through the neighborhood where she'd been raised. The place could have easily served as the backdrop for a post-apocalyptic movie set. Broken-down cars, ramshackle houses, drug dealers and whores on the street corners—it sickened him to think she'd had to navigate that hellish landscape every day of her young life.
But it also made him so incredibly proud of her. There weren't many success stories to come out of places like that and she was one of them. This mess with her current job situation was only a bump in the road. He had no doubt she would find her way around it and on to better things.
Not that she would ever work for him, of course.
He didn't like being told no by anyone, but when Lena did it, he found it oddly exciting. He believed her when she said she didn't play games. There was something enticing about taking it slow with her. He'd get her in his bed eventually but that wasn't his overall goal.
With other women, sex had always been the ultimate, final step—a romp or two in the sack and he'd send them along with some expensive gifts to remember him by. With Lena, making love seemed like a step along the path. One they would both enjoy immensely but a step nonetheless. It was everything else that he craved with her.
Their impromptu, casual date tonight had convinced him that she'd been worth the wait. He couldn’t remember the last time he'd been so relaxed and at ease with a woman. There were no expectations from Lena. She truly didn't have any interest in his money. In fact, he suspected it made her wholly uncomfortable.
He'd heard that line from other women—that they weren't interested in the cold, hard cash stacked in his bank accounts—but Lena was the first one he'd ever believed. With one swift strike, she'd taken away his most seductive power. His usual M.O., to shower a woman with wildly expensive gifts, wouldn't work on her. It occurred to him that his initial plan to fly her to New York for dinner at the city's best restaurant probably wouldn't have the same effect he desired. At best, she'd find him pretentious. At worst—well, he wouldn't think about that.
So what to do about their Monday night date?
He continued to mull that over as the car wound its way through traffic. When it slowed to a stop in the alley running behind 716, his thoughts turned darker. He wanted nothing more than to give Danny a taste of the pain he'd probably caused Lena but he recognized the risk in doing such a thing. A man like Danny would want to sue and make problems. Lena would be furious with him for interfering in a situation she considered already handled.
But he couldn't let Danny get away with manhandling her and leaving bruises on her beautiful skin.
When one of the bouncers watching the rear entrance to 716 approached the vehicle, Yuri rolled down his window. The man bent down for a better view. His eyes widened. "Mr. Novakovsky!"
"Tell your boss I want to speak to him."
"Uh—out here?"
"Yes." He rolled the window up and unbuckled his belt. Comfortable in the back seat, he waited for Danny to make his appearance. As expected, the scuzzy bastard practically ran out the rear entrance. Derek, Yuri's other guard, was waiting near the car. He stopped Danny and frisked him. From the way Danny jerked from side to side, it was clear Derek was purposely being rough with him.
The door opened and Danny slid inside. Breathless, he ran a hand through his hair. Yuri caught the scents of perfume, sex and alcohol wafting from him. Was this how he conducted business? Such a disgrace!
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Yuri?"
Yuri arched an eyebrow at the impertinence of the man using his first name. They weren't peers. They weren't colleagues. They definitely weren't friends. "I wanted to discuss some business with you."
"Business?" The weasel-eyed bastard grinned. "Why don't we take this into my office?"
"I prefer my turf."
"Oh. Well. Okay. So what's up?"
"I want to talk about a PR rep who worked for you."
"Worked for me? Oh. Her." Danny sneered. "Lena Fucking Cruz, huh?" He blew out a noisy breath. "You want my advice, Yuri? Stay the fuck away from her. She's trouble with a capital T."
"Really? I understood she was quite a hard worker and very capable at her profession."
Danny laughed. "Who told you that? Shit, Yuri! The only positive performance reviews Lena Cruz has ever gotten came from her blowjob skills."
Rage exploded within Yuri. He balled his hands into tight fists at his sides and barely managed to maintain control.
"If you're looking for a side piece, you can snatch her up cheap. She quit tonight. I have it on good authority that the firm is going to fire her in the morning. I wouldn’t let her run PR for any of your businesses, but she's got one hell of a mouth on her, if you know what I mean."
"I don't." Yuri fixed Danny with a furious glare. "In fact, I doubt very much that you know anything about her."
Danny held up his hands. "Hey, man, don't get so defensive. You think a girl like that got out of the projects with a full-ride scholarship without sucking a few dicks along the way?"
And just like that Yuri's control snapped.
With the stealth and swiftness of his military days, he threw out his arm and caught Danny across the throat. In an instant, he had the man pinned on the backseat. Eyes wild with fright, Danny spluttered and shoved at Yuri's arms but it was no use. He had the upper hand and he wasn’t ready to let go.
"Listen to me, you little shit. If I hear one whisper of such nasty things about my Lena from anyone, I'll know the source. Believe me, Danny. You don't want me to come back here." He shoved hard enough to make the bastard's eyes bug out of his head before releasing just enough pressure to allow the club owner to drag air into his oxygen-starved lungs. "Do you understand me?"
"Y-yes, Yu-Yuri." Danny stammered and coughed. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't know. I didn't know you were fucking her."
Yuri backhanded him. "Is that what you think this is about? That I'm jealous?" Disgusted, he slid off the man and let him sit up. "Lena isn't that kind of girl, but you wouldn't know that because all you see is where she came from and some stereotype of what girls like that are supposed to be. It must eat you up to know that she wouldn't give a prick like you a second glance."
Danny put his hand to his bloody nose and mouth. "You fucking Russian dick! I'm bleeding!"
"Be glad you're only bleeding and don't need a hospital." He grabbed Danny by the front of the shirt and jerked him forward for one last warning. "If you ever put your hands on a woman again, it will be the last time you have hands to use. Understood?"
Danny paled. "She pissed me off, man. Okay? But, look, I didn't mean to hurt her."
The man's justification for grabbing and bruising Lena made him ill. "That wasn’t what I asked."
"I understand. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
"You know I'll find out if you do."
"I do. I do know."
Yuri let go of Danny. He sat back in his seat and fixed his mussed cuffs. "In the morning, you're going to call Lena's firm and tell them you amicably parted ways. You'll let them know that you had creative differences but you'd recommend her to anyone. And when someone calls you seeking a recommendation, you'll give her a glowing review—a review that she deserves."
"Yes, Yuri."
"Good. Now get the fuck out."
Danny didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted from the back seat and rushed to the rear entrance of his club. One of his bouncers took a menacing step toward the car but Derek and Jake stood should-to-shoulder and scared him away.
When his bodyguards were safely in place, Yuri addressed Tony. "Take me to Faze."
By the time they'd arrived at Faze, his anger had nearly dissipated. Now he was ready to sniff out the saboteur among his staff. Even if it hadn't been Lena hurt by the subversion, he would have been just as upset by it. He'd seen enough of that underhanded, backstabbing bullshit during his early foray into the business world.
At Faze, it was nearing closing time. He found Araceli, the club's manager, and asked her for a private word in her office. The surprise and anger in her expression convinced him she'd had no hand in this.
"If I had to put money on anyone, it would Jeannie, the new go-go dancer we picked up last month. Her boyfriend, Trey, is one of the bouncers at Faze. She tried getting him a job here but Dimitri wouldn't hire him. He said the guy had a bad handshake."
Yuri's mouth curved with amusement. That sounded exactly like Dimitri. "She sounds like a good place to start but let's be perfectly honest, Araceli. A girl who dances in our cages and on our tables to keep the crowd pumped isn't the one who would benefit most from taking that VIP party."
"Agreed." Araceli sighed heavily. "It could have been one of the bartenders up there on the VIP floor or one of the waitresses. Hell it could have been all of them. I saw the bill those guys racked up. The tip is going to be a tidy cut for the servers and bartenders to share."
"Then we haul them all in here and sweat them." Yuri slipped out of his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. "I won't have this kind of subterfuge in my clubs. This is how stupid feuds begin between businesses. We nip this in the bud tonight."
Araceli's instinct proved true. Within four minutes of questioning by the tough-as-nails manager, Jeannie started to bawl like a baby and confessed the whole sordid mess. Trey had approached her about stealing the party to get back at Lena for cutting their side-deals with the hookers and drug dealers and underage kids. Jeannie had acted as the go-between with the bouncers at 716 and the VIP crew at Faze. The Faze team had turned down three major bookings for the VIP lounge to make sure they could accept the athletes bounced from 716.
Even though Yuri owned the club, he left the day-to-day operations in Araceli's capable hands. He knew what he wanted to do about the situation but he trusted her judgment. He wouldn't have hired her otherwise.
"They're gone," Araceli decided. "I'm keeping the two new waitresses because they're young and dumb and weren't brave enough to say no to this scheme but the others?" She drew a line across her neck. "I won't have my people acting like a bunch of high school kids."
"I support your decision, Araceli." He wasn't keen on keeping the two waitresses but her justification made it palatable. "I suppose it's a good thing we're closed Sunday and Monday nights."
"It won't be hard to fill the open spots."
Standing, Yuri grabbed his jacket and slung it over his shoulder. "Then I leave it in your hands."
"Are you sticking around Houston this week or are you jetting off again?"
"Sticking around," he said and headed for the door.
"I see." She said it as if she knew his secret. Maybe she did. Lena's appearance earlier and their disappearance together wouldn't have gone unnoticed by Araceli.
"Keep me updated on this." He tapped the door frame before leaving. Out in the cool fall night, he slipped into the backseat after telling his team he was ready to go home. It was a twenty-five minute drive to the sprawling estate he'd recently finished building on the outskirts of Houston. The large secluded lot sat in a gated enclave that housed a handful of obscenely wealthy Texans.
Though he had a rather swanky penthouse suite in the best building downtown, he found that he rather craved the quiet solitude of the mansion he'd built. Only a few rooms in the place were fully furnished and decorated and he still needed to hire a staff but he didn't mind. There was something peaceful about its emptiness and unfinished state.
In many ways, the house was much like him. Empty and unfinished but waiting to be filled. Where the house needed furniture and art and rugs, he needed one thing and one thing only to make his life complete—the love of a good woman.
His work cell phone started to ring. He fished the black phone from his pocket. It was Anna, his executive assistant. If she was calling this late at night, it wasn't good. "Yes?"
In fast-paced Russian, Anna laid out the problem. "Someone leaked a copy of the environmental report. There is a media firestorm over it. My contact on the planning committee says there's a good chance the pipeline approval is going to fail."
Yuri bit back a curse. The pipeline arcing across Europe was an absolute necessity. "When do they vote?"
"Tuesday morning."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. The last thing he wanted to do right now was jet off to Europe to schmooze and negotiate. "We'll leave in the morning."
"I'll send the details to you as soon as I have them."
Annoyed by this hiccup in his grand plans, Yuri pocketed his phone and rubbed his tired eyes. He'd thought this whole deal was in the bag but apparently not. No doubt this bump in the road was going to cost him but he'd be damned if it interfered with the date he'd already made with Lena. It would be a tight schedule flying over and back before Monday night but he'd make it work. For her, he didn't mind burning the jet fuel.
He used the rest of the drive to send emails to the team handling the pipeline negotiations and to study the quick itinerary Anna had dropped into his inbox. Of all the assistants he'd ever had, Anna was the only one who could keep up with him. Often, she was two steps ahead and prepared for any possibility.
He'd found her through a headhunter. She'd come highly recommended and he'd known within a few minutes that she was the new assistant he needed. Their shared language and background made it easy to work with her.
Though he'd intended to groom her for a move to a VP spot, she'd made it clear earlier that year that she enjoyed her current position and didn't want the stress or drama associated with a new job title. He'd supported her decision but still held out hope that someday she would want to make the jump into a position where he knew she would shine.
They passed through the gates guarding the enclave and turned down his private road. In the circular driveway, the car stopped near the fountain so he could exit. Jake slipped out of the front seat and trailed him up the steps. Derek remained in the SUV that had been trailing them all evening.
Stepping inside his home, Yuri braced for the arrival of Sasha. On cue, the massive bear-sized Caucasian Ovcharka let loose a rumbling bark and bounded down the long hallway. His warning growl softened at the sight of his master. He skidded to a stop and plopped down in a well-trained sitting position.
Yuri rewarded the shaggy beast with a good scratch between the ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Feodor, the elderly mentor who had followed him from Russia, entering the foyer. Feodor was one of the few men Sasha tolerated and the only one Yuri felt comfortable leaving in charge of the dog.
After exchanging a few words with Feodor, he said goodnight and snapped his fingers to indicate that Sasha should follow. Fully aware of the pecking order in the house, the dog followed at his heel.
With a beast so large and ferocious protecting him, Yuri required complete obedience from the dog. In Russia, the breed was used to guard the most notorious prisons but they were also incredibly loyal and protective of their owners. Yuri found peace of mind in the idea that Sasha was always nearby.
Upstairs, he passed the long gallery wall where some of his favorite paintings decorated the space. More would be shipped in from his collections in London and Moscow. He paused in front of the piece he'd commissioned from Vivian last year. The little minx had charged him a damn arm and a leg for the painting but he'd happily paid it. There was no doubt in his mind he'd made a good investment. Someday her work would command outrageous prices.
He couldn't wait to invite her over to see where he'd placed her painting. She'd get such a kick out of seeing her piece between a Ba
squiat and a Galán. He'd thought it rather clever to sandwich her painting between two artists who had been huge influences on her style.
Inside his bedroom, he finally relaxed and kicked off his shoes. He dropped his watch and cuff links on their trays before moving toward his bed. Exhausted, he fell back on the plush mattress and closed his eyes. Sasha walked in circles, the tags on his collar jangling together as he searched for the perfect place to plop down on his comfortable bedding in the far corner.
Visions of Lena danced before his eyes. He wasn't sure where their relationship was going but he was all right with that. He looked forward to the journey they were taking together. These things couldn't be rushed.
In time, Lena would be his.
* * *
The annoying buzz of my cell phone rattling across my bedside table jerked me out of a deep sleep. Opening one eye, I glared at my alarm clock. Oh, Jesus! It was too dang early for this nonsense.
I grabbed my phone and glanced at the screen. My father's face greeted me. He never called this early—and it scared me. "Hello?"
"Mi'ja?"
"Dad?"
He let loose a relieved sounding sigh. "I was worried about you. I couldn't reach you last night."
"I was working and then I had a date." His end of the line crackled. "What's wrong with your reception?"
"Oh, it's—it's nothing, mi'ja. Listen, if Tommy comes around, don't let him stay with you girls."
I frowned and rubbed my tired eyes. "I never let Tommy stay here. Why would I start now?"
"Good. Keep it that way."
Something in my father's tone worried me. "Is everything okay?"
"It's fine." He hesitated. "You still have that gun I bought you for your birthday?"
My gaze flitted to the top drawer where it rested. Technically, he'd only given me the money for it and the concealed carry course I'd taken. With his record, there wasn't a gun store in Texas that would sell to him. "Yes. Why?"
"Just keep it on you, mi'ja."