by Bella Rose
He withdrew his cock, feeling the soft shaft brush the tender skin of her inner thigh as he rolled to his side. The intimacy of the moment struck him. Normally he didn’t consider sex anything but utilitarian. It was different with Courtney. Perhaps she would always be the exception to his rules.
Chapter Six
Eight Weeks Later…
Courtney was beginning to think that she had a very promising career ahead of her as long as the job description involved some kind of avoidance skill. She was getting to be an expert at avoiding people she didn’t want to see. Her father, Creighton, Monique, and even Bella had been trying to visit her with varying degrees of success. So far her father had managed to get one meeting in with that accursed wedding planner, but Courtney was just about to report a rousing success in her plan to avoid meeting number two.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Or maybe not. Courtney sighed and turned to face her father. “Out. I have a Children’s Charity meeting in thirty minutes. I have to get going if I want to be on time.”
“You’re not going.” Her father’s voice was flat. “That wedding planner woman will be here in five minutes with the venue list. Creighton is on his way. If you ditch one of these meetings a second time, I’m cutting you off.”
Courtney swallowed, trying to find her sense of bravado. “Well, that seems a bit extreme. Don’t you think? You didn’t ask my opinion on who I’m marrying. You sold me. So why do I need to participate in the wedding? I would think you could figure all of that out on your own anyway.”
She glanced at her watch. It was eight in the morning. She was feeling completely nauseous. But she figured that was probably because her father had just told her that Creighton was on his way. She didn’t want to see him. She’d managed to avoid the man ever since Bella’s wedding reception had ended in disaster. She was terribly afraid that he would somehow corner her and figure out that she had spent that night with Mikhail at the Plaza Hotel.
“Sit. Down.” Her father grabbed her arm and tossed her into a chair in their overdone, cramped living room.
Her stomach was really roiling now. She swallowed, trying to push back the bile and prevent herself from throwing up. It was a horrible feeling. Her skin was clammy. She sat stiffly in the chair, her back ramrod straight, trying to get control of herself. She was sucking in deep breaths and trying to calm down.
“What is your problem?” her father demanded. “You’re acting like some crazy person.”
She wrapped her arms around her midsection. “I feel sick.”
“That’s bullshit,” he retorted. “You’re not getting out of this meeting so fast.”
“It’s not a lie. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
There was a husky feminine laugh mingled with lower masculine tones. The click-clack of heels on the polished wood floor preceded the wedding planner’s approach. Creighton was by her side, and the two of them appeared awfully cozy.
The sight of him pushed Courtney over the edge. She jumped her to her feet and put her hand to her mouth. “Please excuse me.” Bolting from the room, she headed for the first-floor half bath in the hallway and prayed she could make it in time.
* * *
“Are you sure this is how you want to proceed?” Toby Pinckney stood at the conference table, pushing aside a few documents in order to see the ones lying underneath. “This is a big step for you.”
“This merger will take Krachenko Security to the next level,” Mikhail said mildly.
He poured a shot of whiskey into the two thick ceramic mugs on the tray and then layered hot coffee over the top. He had invited Toby to his office to take a look at the final workups for the proposed takeover. Of course, if Toby happened to talk about his wife’s friend Courtney, Mikhail wasn’t going to stop him. He had been doing his best not to think about Courtney for the last eight weeks. Unfortunately he couldn’t seem to get her off his mind.
“This is not a merger, Mikhail,” Toby said wryly. “This is about as hostile a takeover as you can get—legally speaking.”
“Legally, of course,” Mikhail said mockingly.
“Do you still have contacts in that—” Toby seemed to be searching for the words he wanted. “—that other world?”
“Why?”
“Sometimes I think the only way to get certain things done is to do them illegally.” Toby looked frustrated.
“Do you have a particular problem in mind?”
“Not unless you count my in-laws,” Toby said darkly. “They’re a problem I can’t quite wrap my head around.”
“Meaning?” Mikhail handed his friend the coffee and took a sip from his own mug.
“Meaning that I’ve been told that since Bella is my wife, I’m now responsible for supporting her financially irresponsible brother and backing his idiot business ideas.” Toby took a deep drink of his coffee. “It really pisses me off actually. The guy is a moron. I’m not backing his dot-com company ideas. He comes up with one every five seconds, and his mother expects me to toss him a couple thousand dollars each time.”
“So tell her no.” To Mikhail it seemed fairly simple.
“She’s devious,” Toby moaned. “I tell her no. She leans on Bella. Bella is miserable because her mother is guilting her constantly about not loving her brother and not supporting her family.”
“Aren’t they rich?” Mikhail hid his smile behind the rim of his mug. This family bullshit was amusing when you weren’t knee-deep in the drama.
“Yes. But Bella’s father got wise to his son’s scheming years ago and cut him off. Now Mama is the one who has taken up his cause, and I’m apparently a brand-new bankroller she’s ready to take to the cleaners.”
“So basically you want me to find someone willing to bump off your brother-in-law?” Mikhail looked at his friend and offered a wry smile. “I think I might be able to help you out, but I’m guessing that Bella would be pretty upset if she thought you were involved.”
“I’m kidding!” Toby blinked, looking a little shocked. “Were you serious?”
“No.” Mikhail snorted. “I cut ties with that world a long time ago. But with enough money, anything is possible. Maybe you can find some other way to spin Bella’s brother and make him useful to you in a profitable way. Just think of him as an oddly shaped tool that needs a particular job.”
“You’re either brilliant, or a complete idiot,” Toby mused. “I can’t decide which, although I am willing to tell you what I found out about Bella’s friend Courtney since you were so helpful with my brother-in-law problem.”
Mikhail tried not to show just how eager he was to hear the latest on Courtney Piers-Cameron. “If you want.”
* * *
Courtney heard her father speaking to the wedding planner and her not-so-future husband. “I’m sure she’s just nervous. Courtney is just so excited about this wedding that she wants to make sure everything is perfect.”
“I’m sure.” The wedding planner—whose name was Elsa Manning—didn’t look as if she believed anything Gordon Piers-Cameron was telling her. “Most brides are skittish. Shall we go ahead and start without her?”
Courtney heard them all opening a bunch of fliers. She peered around the edge of the doorway, hoping nobody would notice since they were all focused on the information scattered over the coffee table. It was odd, but Elsa Manning and Creighton Kemper looked awfully chummy. Elsa kept putting her hand on his thigh, and he kept cutting her these weird sideways glances.
“You would be the envy of the whole town if you got married here,” Elsa simpered at Creighton. “I can just imagine you standing at the altar, looking incredibly handsome in a black suit. The jacket would make your shoulders look so broad.”
The breathy quality of Elsa’s voice was making Courtney feel uncomfortable. She didn’t particularly want to marry Creighton, but she sure as hell didn’t want him to think he could be engaged to her and screwing around flirting with someone else. Maybe it was just her girli
sh pride talking, but there was no way in hell some guy was going to disrespect her like that! Especially not a guy like Creighton Kemper!
Courtney straightened up and marched into the living room. She nudged her way right between Creighton and Elsa and plopped down on the couch. “I don’t like any of these. They’re all tired and ridiculously overpriced. I’d rather just get married at City Park.”
“In October?” Elsa blinked in surprise. “It’s usually fairly chilly by then.”
“So people can wear a jacket. It’s my wedding, right?” Courtney was getting into this. Maybe that’s why brides became Bridezilla. They were just miserable women who didn’t want to get married anyway and wanted everyone to feel as rotten about it as they did. “Yeah. I want to get married in City Park, in front of the lake. And I want roses.”
“Roses in October outside?” Elsa was now ignoring Creighton. “Fall weddings usually have a fall palette and fall foliage. I have some examples here…”
“No.” Courtney gave her a flat refusal. “I don’t like any of that. There. I decided. You may go now.”
Elsa jumped up, giving Courtney a narrow-eyed glare as she did. Yep. The wedding planner hated Courtney, but she really didn’t give a rat’s ass what the woman thought. Courtney wasn’t getting married anyway. Even if it meant fleeing the altar on her wedding day.
* * *
“Apparently Courtney’s father is marrying her off to Creighton Kemper for some reason that nobody quite understands,” Toby told Mikhail. “Bella said they were all really confused when it was announced, because Courtney never said a word about the two of them even being a couple. She never told her girlfriends that he had proposed, and nobody ever heard a thing about an acceptance.”
“So he sold his daughter,” Mikhail mused. “That’s low. Even for him.”
Toby pursed his lips, finishing his spiked coffee and pouring some more plain hot coffee into his mug. “How do you know her?”
“Let’s just say that the two of us met quite unexpectedly when I got a job in one of her father’s buildings doing maintenance.”
“You worked for Piers-Cameron?” Toby’s eyebrows shot up. “You never said that!”
“I was in his building maintenance crew. I doubt he ever would have taken any notice of me if it hadn’t been for the fact that Courtney did.” Mikhail could recall the details as if they’d happened yesterday. “She got stuck in an elevator.”
“Seriously?” Toby started laughing. “It sounds like the beginning of an after-school movie.”
“It was. I’m not kidding. She was only fifteen.”
“And you were?” Toby asked, his tone obviously implying that Mikhail had dallied with an underage girl.
“I was almost seventeen. So it was legal.” Mikhail picked up a piece of discarded paper and wadded it up before flinging it at Toby. “But thanks for thinking the worst of me.”
“So what happened?”
“She and I became friends, I guess. I caught her crying in a stairwell a few weeks after that, and we started talking. We didn’t have much in common, but we found things that we could both relate to the same way any horny teenagers are apt to do.” Mikhail was staring out the window, wishing he could forget the next part. “Then she tried to help me by asking her father if I could get moved into a young interns program so I could learn the business and eventually work for Pierson Security itself instead of just in the maintenance department. Her father realized she had a girlish crush, and you can imagine the rest.”
“Wow.” Toby looked sick. “So you hold a grudge against him for not letting you date his daughter? That’s sort of unlike you.”
Mikhail laughed, feeling like an old man. “No. My vendetta against Piers-Cameron has nothing to do with his daughter. If he had told me to stay away from her, I would have. I could respect that. She deserved better. Then he could have gone back to his ivory tower and let me be. I was getting by, going to school, about to graduate, and even had a scholarship to a community college. Piers-Cameron told the building manager I’d been caught stealing. They called the cops. I was arrested. I lost my scholarship and my job and had no choice but to take work with my cousins.”
“So that’s how you wound up in the Russian mafia.” Toby sounded absolutely stunned. “Piers-Cameron is the reason you have blood on your hands.”
“And I’m going to make him pay for that,” Mikhail returned, feeling calm and confident and knowing his plan was about to succeed. “I will make him pay for what he did.”
Chapter Seven
“It’s about damn time you called me back,” Bella fumed. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve texted you?”
Courtney stirred her chai and let Bella get it all out. Her friend often needed to vent before she could have a rational conversation. For now, the downtown sidewalk café where they had been meeting since college days made a pleasant enough place to hang out. The weather was beautiful. There weren’t too many people around in the early afternoon after the lunch rush, and the tiny patch of shade beneath the cheerful yellow-and-red striped umbrella was a perfect place to relax.
“You have no idea how much I have to tell you!” Bella finally said. She had wound down, although Courtney would admit to missing at least 50 percent of the diatribe anyway. Now her friend was rational enough to have a two-sided conversation.
“What do you have to tell me?” Courtney asked obediently.
Bella’s eyes opened wide. “Mikhail Krachenko asked Toby to ask me about you!” Bella squealed in excitement. “Isn’t that amazing?”
“You do know who Mikhail Krachenko is, right?” Courtney cocked her head to one side, gazing at her friend. From the other woman’s reaction, Courtney had already decided that Bella was clueless. “Remember I told you about that boy who worked in my father’s building that I had a crush on when I was like fifteen years old?”
Bella slumped forward, putting her elbows on the table. “Oh my God! Yes! I remember that story. The poor boy died! It was so tragic. And you were just trying to help him because he’d always been so good to you!”
“Yeah.” Courtney still wasn’t sure how she felt about all of this. “Well, that boy was Mikhail Krachenko.”
“What?” Bella’s high-pitched sound of shock drew every eye within a ten-foot radius.
Courtney waited for her friend to calm down enough to be rational. “I don’t understand why, but my father made up the story about Mikhail dying.”
“Why would he do such a thing?” Bella fumed. “It broke your heart!”
“I don’t know.” Courtney shrugged. “But I would imagine that my father thought he was doing me a favor. Maybe he thought I needed his help getting past a boy that he considered unacceptable. You know what he’s like!”
Bella sat back in her chair and angrily stirred her iced coffee. “What an ass!”
“So now, Mikhail is apparently alive and very successful.” Courtney didn’t even know where she was going with this. “And I’m supposed to be engaged to that dickhead Creighton Kemper, who—by the way—I’m almost certain is screwing the wedding planner.”
“Oh ick! Elsa?” Bella made a face. “She tried that crap with Toby too. I think she screws all of the grooms. Honestly, she’s pretty low-class. I still can’t figure out why all of the most exclusive events in the city hire her.”
“Because she can plan an event,” Courtney pointed out, trying to be reasonable. “But someday she’s going to mess with the wrong girl.”
“Of course, it’s not like you care what Creighton does,” Bella pointed out.
Courtney felt a grim sort of determination. “No. But it would be really convenient if Creighton could get caught being naughty with Elsa so my father would get mad at him and call the whole thing off.”
* * *
“Hello, Gordon,” Mikhail said silkily. “Please come in and have a seat.”
The only word that Mikhail could come up with to describe Gordon Piers-Cameron was pouty. The man looked po
sitively juvenile. Even his lower lip was pouched out. He flopped into a seat around the big conference table at Krachenko Security and glowered at Mikhail.
“What do you want?” Gordon snarled. “I got your message this morning. Or should I say that I got your threat? I won’t tolerate being bullied by the likes of you. I know you think the whole world caters to your kind, but legitimate businessmen like me don’t have to tolerate your sort of practices.”
Mikhail took big deep breaths. Sometimes he wondered if legitimate businessmen like Gordon Piers-Cameron were all oblivious, or if that was just something unique to the man sitting before Mikhail right now riding the self-righteousness train to ruin.
“I don’t know what you think you know about me and my business,” Mikhail began slowly. “But I am an absolutely legitimate player on the international board. My business grosses four times what yours ever did, even during its heyday. On my worst day I have better numbers and results than you ever have on your best day. So let’s just stop pretending you’re still somehow better than I am.”
“You come from nothing,” Gordon spat. The man actually managed to look down his nose at Mikhail.
“That would make my position in the American business arena more laudable actually. Boy from the wrong side of the tracks who was constantly put down by those who should have helped him”—Mikhail couldn’t resist throwing that in—“becomes a self-made billionaire. I believe I’ll get my own reality show and a book deal out of that headline.”
“Harrumph!”
Had Piers-Cameron actually “harrumphed” at Mikhail? Ridiculous! Mikhail sneered. “What would your headline read, Gordo? Man with silver spoon shoved up his ass ruins company and loses billions?”
“Fuck you!” Gordon shouted. “My company is solvent! I’m doing just fine. I’ve always been successful. That’s not something you will ever be able to say!”