“This one,” Roman pronounced from beside her, then moved in closer to the rack. “What size?”
“An eight,” she answered before she could check it. “But I don’t want that one.”
Roman kept searching, found the right size and pulled it from the bar. “You want this one. You will try it on.”
Like hell she would. If she so much as put an arm in that coat she was bound to start purring. “Nope. Too fancy.”
Roman shrugged and headed back out to the main aisle, the coat still gripped in his massive paw. “Fine. We will buy it anyway.”
“What?” She hurried after him. “Roman, you can’t buy a coat without trying it on.”
He stopped and took it off the hanger. “Good. You agree.”
Fuck.
Shit, damn, hell, fuck!
Reasoning. What she needed was some good old-fashioned reasoning. Or a diversion. Maybe she could run out of the store screaming or something. Then he’d have to leave the thing behind and chase her. “Roman, be logical. It’s the first coat I kind of liked.”
“You love it. I saw you. So, you will try it on.”
Right. No big deal. She could do that. Then she’d pretend to hate it. Or maybe it would look horrible on her and he’d hate it. She shrugged off her Levi’s jacket and dropped her purse to the floor.
He held the coat up for her and guided in one arm then the other.
As if the shopping gods were conspiring with Roman, a floor length mirror was mounted directly across from them.
And wow, did she look good. Her hair color totally rocked with the ivory and the cut and style made her look like a fashion badass. Totally her style. She could have no more avoided running her fingertips over the shearling lapel than she could stop breathing.
In the mirror, Roman nodded. “Yes. We will get this one.” He peeled it off her before she could argue and practically stomped to the nearest checkout.
Oddly, after trying the beautiful coat on, she was having a hard time getting her own feet into gear, let alone throw out any more protests. She made it to the counter just as Roman pulled a credit card from his billfold.
The twentysomething brunette with freakishly perfect red lipstick smiled and calmly uttered, “That will be $3,139.25.”
Roman handed over the card.
Bonnie sputtered, trying to find words, and reached for the card the same time the clerk did. “No!”
The clerk jerked the card out of reaching distance before Bonnie could get her fingers on it. Bonnie tugged Roman’s arm until he faced her. “You are not spending that kind of money on a coat.”
He looked to the coat. To the cashier and the card in her hand. Then back to Bonnie. “I am.” He waved the clerk back to work. “Proceed.”
Bonnie watched the rest of the transaction in a haze, stunned on a level that defied description. Though stunned shifted to something closer to an out of body experience when Roman had the clerk remove the tags from the coat, wrangled Bonnie into it and shoved her old jacket in the Saks bag.
Their exit to the parking lot happened in silence, all the dazzling stores and people rushing around them little more than background noise.
A three-thousand-dollar coat.
The guy was crazy. Certifiably insane.
But she was definitely warm. Not just on the outside, but on the inside, too. Humbled to the very tips of her toes. No one—absolutely no one in her life had ever made such a grand gesture on her behalf. And more than that, the way he walked beside her—his chin lifted high, his shoulders pushed back and his big hand engulfing hers—you’d have thought he’d just scored a date with the homecoming queen.
It floored and flattered her. Deeply so.
But what she couldn’t figure out was why?
Why spend so much money? On her? And why did he seem so pleased with himself? The thoughts plagued her so deeply, he’d been driving for God only knew how long before her brain plugged into reality and realized they were far west of not just the Central Business District but the Garden District as well. “Where are we going?”
“A quick stop to schedule something. Then we will eat.”
Eating was good. One thing she loved about Roman was that his idea of a healthy breakfast was a half a pot of coffee or more. Actual food didn’t pique his interest until around two. Sometimes later. Which was absolutely fine and dandy with her because her stomach was on the same schedule. She’d also learned they shared a love of midnight snacks. Typically anything sweet, which could range from a bowl of blackberries to one of the candy bars he kept stashed in his pantry.
“How about grilled cheeses and broccoli cheese soup? Or BLTs. I know you like those better. We can stop at the store, get the stuff we need for the soup and I’ll cook it.”
“Nyet.” If the finality in his voice wasn’t clue enough the topic wasn’t open for debate, the frown on his face would’ve cinched it. “We have a reservation.”
“At two in the afternoon? Who needs a reservation at two in the afternoon?”
He kept his eyes on the road, but there was no mistaking the pleasure in his smile. “We do. Though, by the time we run this errand, it will be closer to three.” He glanced her direction, so much warmth behind his steel gaze she felt it in her gut. “Trust me, vozlyublennaya.”
God, she was becoming a sucker for the Russian language. Or at least the way it rolled off his tongue. Granted, she’d only learned the translation for malen’kaya koroleva so far, but as good as the foreign words sounded with his deep voice, he could recite the TV guide to her and she’d be lit and ready to go.
Little queen.
My Queen.
She still had a hard time remembering how he’d said the words without visibly shivering. It was the stuff of every romance she’d ever read or seen—only he’d been up close and personal. Every bare, six-foot-four and ripped muscled inch of him.
He turned off Claiborne Avenue and headed toward East Carrollton. Less than ten minutes later, he pulled up in front of a two-story tan stucco building with black shutters and a simple black placard over the double glass doors.
Frannelly’s Custom Fine Jewelers.
Oh, shit.
A three-thousand-dollar coat and a jewelry store?
Not only no, but hell no.
She opened her mouth, ready to argue.
Roman cut her off with a blasé comment before she could. “I will only be a moment. You are welcome to come and look while I do business if you like.”
Hmm.
Business.
It did kind of make sense he’d have to work sometime. And while she’d always thought mobsters stuck to construction, restaurants and gambling for their primary partnerships, Roman, Kir and Sergei hadn’t exactly turned out to be the run-of-the-mill types for anything. Why not work with jewelers? And hell, yeah, if she could look her fill at a bunch of high-end jewelry without someone bugging her, why not go along for the ride? She shrugged and unbuckled her seat belt. “Sure.”
Inside was pure class. Simple and small, but definitely the kind of place people with lots of money went to shop. Diamonds, colored gems and every hue of gold sparkled from the soft tan suede displays, held safe from prying hands with fingerprint-free sparkling glass. A silver tray near the door featured chocolate covered strawberries and what looked like homemade cookies.
Her stomach grumbled its appreciation, but she ignored the food in favor of the case closest to her.
“Their selection is good, yes?” Roman said beside her.
Good was too tame of a word. Everything in front of her was elegant but beautifully unique. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”
“They are custom pieces. The owner is known for his craftsmanship.”
“Really?” She leaned in for a closer look. “It looks like the super fancy stuff you see at all t
he big retail jewelry stores but a whole lot more original.”
A blond-haired woman in a perfectly fitted black dress and model-quality makeup sauntered their direction. Her gaze darted between Roman and Bonnie and she wriggled her elastic wristlet with a decent number of keys free. “May I help you?”
“Roman Kozlov to see Mr. Frannelly.”
Her eyes widened and her attention shuttled to Bonnie for all of a heartbeat before she nodded at Roman. “Of course.” She hustled to the back of the store.
Bonnie chuckled. “Wow. You’ve got a real way with people. I bet the last time she walked that fast was for a Black Friday sale at Needless Markup.”
“Needless what?”
“Neiman Marcus.” When all he did was frown at her, she added, “Neiman Marcus. One of my bar regulars calls it Needless Markup. Get it?”
Comprehension registered and he smiled just as a slightly balding dark-haired man hurried their direction.
The man extended his hand for a handshake long before he reached Roman. “Mr. Kozlov, how nice to see you again. Are you here to see Raymond? He’s out running an errand, but will be back soon. I can call him.”
Roman shook Mr. Frannelly’s hand. “No need. I’m here on business.”
For the barest of moments, genuine fear swept across Mr. Frannelly’s face. He masked it quickly and squared his shoulders. “Whatever it is, you know you can count on me.” With a shaky smile he turned his gaze on Bonnie. “Is this your wife?”
Bonnie nearly choked.
Roman beamed. “Not yet. No.” He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight to his side. “This is moya nevesta, Bonnie Drummond.”
Moya what? And what did he mean not yet? Neither question had a chance to be voiced because Mr. Frannelly was too busy offering her the same enthusiastic handshake he’d given Roman. “Such a lovely woman. My name is Aryeh Frannelly. So very nice to meet you.”
He covered their joined hands with his free one and twisted just enough to aim his raised voice toward the door he’d appeared from. “Chana! Come and say hello. Mr. Kozlov has come to visit and brought his fiancée with him.”
A cold sweat broke out along the back of her neck and her lungs completely stopped working. If Mr. Frannelly didn’t have such a firm grip on her hand, she’d have already turned and bolted out the front door.
As if he sensed the panic roiling inside her, Roman gave her a gentle squeeze and kissed the top of her head.
Bonnie was halfway tempted to elbow the presumptuous turd in the ribs and actually might have if the woman she assumed was Chana hadn’t hurried into view. Age-wise, she seemed to be in her late forties or early fifties, and while her black dress didn’t fit quite as snugly as the woman who’d greeted them, it was twice as classy. “Roman, what an unexpected but lovely surprise.”
Mr. Frannelly finally released Bonnie’s hand and mirrored Roman’s pose with his arm around his wife. “Chana, meet Miss Drummond. Bonnie, this is my wife, Chana.”
Chana’s smile was genuine as she inclined her head to Bonnie. “So very nice to meet you. And how wonderful to hear our Roman has found the right woman. The women at synagogue will be devastated, but I couldn’t be happier for him.”
Bonnie craned her head up to meet Roman’s eyes. “You’re Jewish?”
The brightness in his eyes dimmed as though a cloud had passed over him. “I do not practice religion.”
Chana scoffed and waved a hand. “As if that would be a deterrent to any of them. Every time they see him, they gossip for days after.” She paused a moment and volleyed her attention between her husband and Roman. “Is something wrong with Raymond?”
“No, no,” Mr. Frannelly said. “Roman wants to talk business.”
“Oh!” Her eyebrows hopped high and she clasped her hands in front of her. “Well, then. How about if I keep Bonnie company while the two of you handle whatever needs handling?”
Roman motioned to the case full of custom designs in the front. “Perhaps you could show her some of Aryeh’s designs. She is interested in crafting jewelry herself someday.”
“Oh, is she now?” It might have sounded sarcastic if Bonnie hadn’t been able to see the genuine delight on Chana’s face. She took her own elastic key band off her wrist and jangled the keys. “You know I will never spare a chance to show my beloved Aryeh’s work to a willing customer.”
And just like that, Bonnie was alone with a feisty woman with the keys to a whole building full of fine jewelry. She should have been ecstatic. Totally taking advantage of the situation and soaking up anything and everything she could from the woman in front of her. But the word fiancée kept ping-ponging around in her head.
It was Chana who got things off dead center in the most gracious of ways. “Come. Let me show you some of my favorites.”
She rounded the counter and opened the locked flap. One after the other, she pulled out exquisite pieces in both yellow and white gold, all of them displayed on soft tan suede holders that matched the rest of the case. “My Aryeh has been working with jewelry since he was a little boy. His father was a jeweler. As was his grandfather.”
A gorgeous white gold cuff with swirling curves that reminded Bonnie of the ocean and tanzanite gems anchored in the center of each wave winked at her. She stroked her fingertip over the delicate design. “His work is gorgeous.”
“Here,” she said, freeing it from its holder. “Try it on.”
Bonnie jerked her hands away. “Oh, no. No trying on.”
“Why not? It would look beautiful on you!”
“Um.” Bonnie threw out her arms to each side. “See this coat? All I did was look at it and Roman bought it. I’m afraid to find out what he’d do if he saw me actually try something on.”
Chana smiled at that, an impish grin that said she’d had a lifetime of loving a smitten man. “Roman is a good man. Rough around the edges, perhaps, and sometimes brusque with his words, but his heart is gentle.”
There was so much kindness in her voice. A familiarity on par with how Evie and Cassie spoke about him. “How do you know him?”
“From my synagogue. He works with our rabbi and the leaders of other synagogues and churches throughout New Orleans to mentor boys in foster homes or orphanages.”
“Ah.” Bonnie nodded. “Yes, he told me about that.”
A tender expression crept into place. “Aryeh and I never had children. We wanted to, but were not able. Roman knew this and came to us when Raymond needed a foster home. I cannot be more grateful. Raymond is older—driving on his own now—but he has been a blessing. Soon, he will officially be our son.”
His heart is gentle.
Her gut said Chana’s observation was spot on, but warned of more that she didn’t know. Of a darkness she’d only glimpsed thus far.
“Please,” Chana said, cutting into her thoughts and holding out the cuff for her. “Try it on.”
Time seemed to slip away, the mix of Bonnie’s jangled thoughts and the emotions from the last twenty-four hours gratefully taking refuge in the raw appreciation of such beautiful craftsmanship. Maybe it was fifteen minutes. Maybe it was closer to an hour. But eventually, Roman appeared and strolled her direction, Aryeh following close behind.
“Did she find anything she likes?” Roman said to Chana.
Chana dipped her head but her smile was still obvious. “That would be for Bonnie to answer, would it not?” She peeked at Bonnie and winked, but her words were for Roman. “I noticed your fiancée has no ring, though. Perhaps we should schedule a time for you to return so that we can help you rectify that matter.”
“Oh, no.” Bonnie waved one hand and stepped between Roman and the jewelry case like she might have some prayer of keeping him from whipping out the credit card again. “I’m nowhere near ready for a ring. Or a wedding.” She looked up to Roman and cocked an eyebrow. “But I am d
ue for food if you’re done with your business.”
For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue just for the fun of it, but schooled his expression just as quickly and nodded. “Of course, moya koroleva.” He stepped back just enough to let her pass and waved her toward the door. “Let us go and get you lunch.”
They said their goodbyes and Roman helped her into the truck.
She made it all of three seconds after he buckled himself in before she exploded. “Fiancée? Please tell me you were joking.”
Rather than put the gearshift in reverse as she’d expected, he twisted in his seat and faced her. “Marriage is not a subject for humor.”
“No. It’s not. But you led those people on.”
“I did not.”
“Then what would you call it?”
“Admitting the truth.”
The statement dropped between them like a cinder block. No punches pulled. No sarcasm behind it. Just words delivered as absolute fact. She had no clue what to say. What to think, even less.
Though, it didn’t really matter, because Roman kept going. “Finding a woman like you is rare. You do not pretend to be someone you aren’t. You are natural. Open. Transparent and vibrant. I value everything about you. My family does as well. I may be short on words, but I have much wisdom. All of it earned through pain. I will not ignore the truth when I find the woman meant for me.”
“Roman, you barely know me. I barely know you. And let’s not forget the business you’re in. For crying out loud, I’ve seen you take two men out with your bare hands. I might be an open-minded girl willing to give people the benefit of the doubt, but even I need time to process what’s what in this situation.”
“It does not matter. I know enough. Have lived on instinct since the day I drew my first breath. I know what I want when I see it and I want you. Only you. I will not rush you, but neither will I stop. Not until you are mine.”
He was serious. Absolutely one-hundred percent serious. And while most of her insides had gone all warm molasses on her when he’d outlined all the things he liked about her, logic was using her brain for a speed bag.
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