Her Russian Millionaire (BWWM Romance Book 1)

by Scarlett Mallam

  “A package?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought – heroin, right? Had to be. Only it wasn’t. It was a crate of knock-off Armani jackets. Perfectly legal, too. So I said no problem, and the crate made its way to the States without any trouble. What’s one crate when we're shipping whole containers back and forth every day of the week?”

  He wanted to take a drink, but didn’t. The fact that it was two in the afternoon helped, and Tasha set the glass aside, as well. “But that wasn’t enough, was it?”

  “Not by a long shot. A month later it was two crates, then five. Another year passed, the company had grown, and Vincenzi asked me to smuggle the real deal. Heroin, maybe, I didn’t ask.”

  “And did you?” Tasha wasn’t scared. In her mind she’d already played through all the worst scenarios, and, absurd as it sounded, smuggling narcotics wasn’t at the top of the list.

  “No,” Luke said, “I talked my way out of that one. Said I felt like I wasn’t realizing my potential doing import-export. Vincenzi agreed, and we sold the firm. The money went into what’s now known as South East Financial.”

  “Santa Elma.”

  “Of course. Anyway, the new company was focused on investment, but the areas were the same – shipping, research and development, production of everything we could think of. All absolutely legal. Now that I think of it, I can’t even begin to imagine how many of those businesses we invested into were actually shell corporations, registered to launder Mafia money.” He laughed again. “Many of them were, I’m sure. I’d lost count of our deals quickly. The lawyer, a friend of Vincenzi’s, advised that so long as I had no knowledge of any illegal activity I’d be just fine. I was twenty-five, rich and busy, and it helped me sleep at night. Far as I was concerned, my company was doing great. I had the money and I had a lot of work.”

  He looked at her, searching for something in her eyes; forgiveness, perhaps, or understanding. Tasha offered the latter. “What then?”

  “That was five years ago, and then one day…”

  “A favor?”

  “An order, more like. I was to wire a large sum of money to a non-existent company somewhere in Europe, as if SEF were investing into it. There was a whole legend to go with it – documents, stamps, signatures, and bank accounts – all legit, on paper.”

  “How much?”

  “Eighty million.”

  “Jesus…”

  “Over the course of the year SEF transferred the money abroad, and since then it hadn’t stopped. Annual turnover grew, as you know. These days money goes in and out non-stop, cash gets thrown in all over the world and turned into billions of untaxed revenue. I may be a billionaire, on paper, but in reality I get the breadcrumbs from the table that isn’t even mine in the first place.”

  There was silence in the room for a long moment, while Tasha processed the information and Luke tried not to break down. He took another sip of the drink, a smaller one, and looked at her. She looked back, expressionless, trying to decide what it was exactly she felt.

  Chapter 7

  “So,” she started reluctantly, “that’s what all the privacy obsession is about?”

  “Not by choice, I need you to understand that, Tasha. I… I can’t get out of this. I don’t know what to do.”

  She could understand that. She’d heard stories like this one, but never truly believed them. It was surreal to think that criminal organizations could have this much control over wealth. How much of the country’s economy was controlled and exploited that way? How many other shadow billionaires were there? How many of the Fortune 500 companies were just fronts for illegal activity?

  She walked to him and took his hand. “Tell me.”

  “What’s there left to tell?”

  “If you’re playing along then what do they want now? Why are they following us? What are they pressuring you to do?”

  Luke took a deep breath. He was ashamed, but accepting of it. He could’ve stormed out or fallen silent at that point, but he didn’t. He said, “It’s too much.”

  “Too much money?”

  “Fuck money, I’d give all that I have, if they’d take it, which they wouldn’t. Why settle for three billion when it can make them thirty?” He laughed again, now with a grain of misplaced humor. “No, money won’t do. They want me to take part. They want me to shake hands. They want me to put my own money into this. They’re afraid I’ll back off, since I’m not directly involved.”

  “Are they right?”

  He gave the answer she hoped for: “Damn right they are! I can live with undeclared clothes; nobody gives a shit about that. Drugs, even, whatever. I know it’s not a good thing to say that, but they don’t need me to smuggle drugs. Drug trade is child’s play, a thing of the past. No, for their next trick they need SEF and they need me as the head of it.”

  Tasha thought there was a tear stuck in his eye, but Luke wouldn’t let it. “What do they want?”

  “Human trafficking. Russian wives, Thai wives, Czech wives, you name it. Fifty to a hundred and fifty grand plus free delivery. Extra, depending on the girl’s age. Underage go for up to two hundred. They have catalogs – pages and pages with pictures and parameters…”

  It hurt Luke to say the words, and now Tasha was truly terrified. He clenched her hand, and a tear did drop from his eye and he wiped it off.

  “My God…” Tasha was breathing deep, trying to calm down the panic rising up in her chest.

  “It doesn’t end there. The money goes towards staging revolutions in developing countries. Developing no more. Vincenzi provides guns for hire, and the weapons themselves. Want a new government? There you have it. Major client? The US government. And all loot, of course goes to Vincenzi. Gold, diamonds, people… I don’t know how deep it goes.”

  Tasha couldn’t believe it. It was hard to comprehend. In her mind she’d always imagined Mafia the way they were shown in movies: well dressed men in their forties, dealing in cocaine and racket. Apparently, that notion was outdated, because what Luke had described was more fitting for a Bond movie, which, for real, would make her a Bond girl. Tasha uttered a nervous laugh at the thought, making Luke give her a glance full of hurt and confusion.

  “I’m sorry, it’s nerves. I just can’t believe this…”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “No, I do, Luke, of course I do. But… how can this be?”

  “I keep asking myself that everyday…”

  They got back to their drinks then, spending the next ten minutes in silence, both figuring out what to say next. Tasha was the first one to have gathered her thoughts.

  She said, “And what if you refuse?”

  She knew before he replied: “I disappear. Or maybe they’ll think I’m too important of a figure to just disappear. Maybe my car gets into a crash, or my plane falls out of the sky, or my boat sinks, or… An accident, simple as that. They’ll destroy me.”

  He looked up at her, his eyes full of concern. “That’s why I tried to be careful. That’s why that one time I used the same car as you normally ride. Didn’t help, obviously. They’re all over the place.”

  A terrifying thought popped into her head. She hugged Luke and whispered into his ear: “What if they’re listening right now?”

  “I sweep the house for bugs regularly,” he reassured her. “This maybe the only place they aren’t listening at. And even if they are, we won’t be in more danger than we’re already in.”

  “Do you think they’ll really come after us? After me?”

  “I’m afraid they will. These people… They don’t care.”

  “I’m tired. Can we go upstairs?”

  They looked at each other lovingly, but both too exhausted and drunk to do anything about it. Luke took her hand and they went upstairs. They threw their clothes to the floor and got under the blankets. They cuddled, kissing, and then settled, with Tasha's arm around Luke, her hand caressing his chest.

  Her thoughts were hectic, head spinning. It was too much
to take in at the moment. She couldn’t fight it and dozed off, feeling Luke’s heartbeat under her palm.

  *****

  She woke with a start and turned in bed, happy to find Luke by her side. He was still asleep. Tasha couldn’t sleep. She was still tired, her mouth stale. An ache was kindling in her head, screaming with every slight movement. She stood up slowly, and went to take a shower.

  Luke was still asleep, and she didn’t want to wake him up. Nor did she want him to feel worried when he finally did, so she gave him a kiss, whispering that she was going downstairs.

  She poured herself a huge glass of water and chugged it, catching her breath afterwards. She remembered having terrible delirious dreams that included shooting and car chases, and finally Luke’s confession was sinking in. She felt scared for her life momentarily, but that feeling evaporated quickly. She reasoned that had the things been that bad, they’d be dead already. It wasn’t a pleasant way of putting things, but it managed to calm her down. To get through this, positive thoughts would be a must.

  But then, could she get through this?

  She had a life outside of this relationship, after all. There was her career, which came with a million responsibilities. She had friends, if only Kelly was a close one. She had a nice apartment and a car. She liked to think she had purpose in life, ambitions.

  If she’d learned anything from those gangster movies, it was that escaping the Mafia was not a simple task. They’d have to start a new life, preferably not in the States. That was obvious. And if this organization was as serious as Luke had said, even that might not be enough. They would have to disappear without a trace, possibly stage their own deaths!

  Absurd!

  Two weeks ago life seemed so simple, so structured. She had a schedule and she kept to it, following all the laws, not standing out in any way except in her professional field. Saying this in her head, she sounded like a particularly nerdy teacher.

  But it was true. People didn’t just disappear. Couldn’t.

  She considered calling the cops. And say what?

  “Sorry, we are being followed by mobsters who organize revolutions in third-world countries and home-deliver wives. Please, hurry.”

  She chuckled, and then broke down and cried.

  She looked outside through the glass doors, at the dock and the boat. She wanted jump into it and just take off. Away from the coast, away from this house, away from the gangsters, who were no doubt hiding in their van somewhere, with headphones over their ears, listening to the house.

  Stupid.

  She drank another glass of water and hurried upstairs. She needed to leave. Had to. Staying in the house felt like sitting in a trap waiting to be finished off.

  Luke was waking up, watching her get dressed.

  “Are you leaving?” he asked with little surprise.

  “I have to. I can’t stay here.”

  He sat up on the edge of the bed. “I understand that, Tash. You’re right, of course.”

  “Will you come with?”

  “I want to, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. I think you’d be better off without me. Away from me.” His voice fell as he spoke, none too pleased with the sad conclusion.

  “I think you might be right.”

  Tasha came over to him and sat beside.

  “You need to do something about this, Luke. We can’t be together like this. I have a life, and I’m not ready to leave it.”

  He put one hand on her knee and didn’t say anything for a while.

  “Will you do this for me?” she asked.

  “Yes. I’ll think of something. You need to go.”

  He stood up suddenly and picked up his pants. He fished out the car keys to the Ferrari and picked up Tasha’s beach bag.

  “Come on.”

  Dressed in just his underwear, Luke went down the stairs, and Tasha followed. He turned off the alarm at the door and stepped out. The bag went into the passenger’s seat, when the car beeped, and Luke passed her the key.

  “Are you sure you won’t be needing it?” Tasha asked. She didn’t really feel like taking the sports car, but it seemed to be the easiest and the fastest option.

  “I have a few more in the garage. Take it, I’ll pick it up some time. Hopefully.”

  She put her arms around him. “Don’t say that. We’ll figure it out. Please, stay safe, okay?”

  “I’ll fix it, Tash, and then I’ll come for you.”

  When she opened the door, he said, “I… Drive safely, okay?”

  She got behind the wheel and backed out of the driveway, watching Luke stand there by the front door, in his boxers, watching her leave. She turned around and drove away from the house, watching him in the rearview mirror. She didn’t want to leave. All she wanted was to stay with him. She imagined them together, fighting off the mobsters, then calling the cops. Like in one of those home invasion movies, where in the end all the bad guys go down, and the couple remains alive and well.

  Of course, in movies the story ended there. In real life, they would still have to flee the country to start a new life abroad. It was madness.

  And how could she leave? There was no going back to the routine of her life she was so used to after this. She hated Luke for telling her, but also… loved him for it?

  He confessed to her something nobody in their right mind would confess; not even in the court of law, yet he shared with her every nasty detail, the very secret of his company. All skeletons were out of the closet. She was grateful for that.

  She drove just over the speed limit, eager to get home. There was safety in thinking of home. It was unthinkable that anyone would dare attack her there. Not in the daylight, not in Manhattan. Or was it just wishful thinking? If the Mafia followed Luke out of the city and came so near as to be at the same restaurant, then nowhere was safe.

  She parked the car down the street from the brownstone, and hoped it wouldn’t attract too much attention. Of course she realized there wasn’t much she could do about it: the car had plates, and the mobsters surely knew them, and adding two and two wouldn’t be hard. Still, she walked home, noticing nothing strange in the neighborhood. All was quiet, nothing out of the ordinary.

  She took the elevator upstairs and texted Luke as soon as she was safely behind a locked door.

  I’m OK.

  He said he was trying to figure out what to do and that he missed her.

  She wrote: XOXO

  Nothing else came to mind. Tasha changed clothes and crashed on the couch. The TV stayed off. She just sat there, unsure how to proceed with her life, in a state of disconcerted trance. She had work tomorrow, but the thought of it was locked up somewhere in the back of her head. That life already seemed like a dream, something she’d read about somewhere.

  What was she to do now?

  It was six in the evening, when her phone rang. She grabbed it, hoping it was Luke, but it wasn’t.

  “Hey, Kel. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it today.”

  “No worries, I woke up an hour ago. You okay? You sound upset.”

  “How far are you from here?”

  “A few blocks. I just left Damien’s place.”

  “Damien, huh?” This was good. Perhaps talking to Kelly about her weekend would take Tasha’s mind off her own situation. “That sounds intriguing. Can you come over?”

  Of course Kelly could. She also promised to grab some donuts and pretzels on the way. Tasha made sure she looked nice and made a pot of coffee. She drank a cup while she waited, deciding whether she would tell her friend the truth about Luke or not. She could trust her, of course, but this was a serious matter that could get them both in a lot more trouble than any other shared secret. Kelly would no doubt call the cops, and then all hell was guaranteed to break loose. Not to mention this could put Kelly’s very life in danger. What if the mob had set up bugs in the apartment? She didn’t see why they would, but she’d seen enough crime dramas not to put it past them.

  By the time Kelly had rang
the bell, Tasha had collected herself and managed to relax, as if there was really nothing to worry about.

  “Hey sister! How are you?”

  She handed Tasha paper bags with the goodies and threw off her shoes. While they drank coffee, Tasha told her about the fabulous weekend, excluding the creepy stalkers and shocking confessions. Retelling the story with all the sad parts edited out felt liberating. And it’s not like she lied, either. She kept some things, true, but those were the very personal things.

  “But have you found out anything about him?” Kelly asked at some point. “I mean the guy’s a ghost!”

  Tasha told her some of the story, again, without revealing much, which left Kelly a bit disappointed. To distract her from inquiring into Luke’s personal life, Tasha started telling about the sex. Kelly ate that up: she squeaked, laughed, put a hand to her mouth and shook her head a lot. Tasha could see Kelly make mental notes of the things she had described.

  “And you know what the best thing is?”

  “This wasn’t it?”

  Tasha took her beach bag and produced the car key.

  “Get the hell out of here! He gave you the car?”

  “Well, I borrowed it.”

  “He must really be into you.”

  “Pretty sure he is!”

  “And you?”

  Tasha closed her eyes and smiled, and that was answer enough for Kelly.

  “So, tell me about this Damien,” Tasha said.

  Kelly said Damien was one of the French guys she’d met at the frat party. They’d spent a night together and were planning a romantic getaway – a picnic and then a movie or something. She said he was cute.

  The conversation effectively took Kelly’s attention away from Luke, and Tasha kept asking questions about Damien to keep it that way. There wasn’t much to ask, but Kelly had a good imagination. She said she would go to Europe with him for the holidays in July and perhaps take a Euro trip. It was a nice way to spend the evening, and Kelly left around nine.

  “I’ll see you around, Kel,” Tasha said, closing the door, hoping this was the truth.

  The apartment was empty, and she went back to the couch. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. There was a knock on the door then, and Tasha expected to see Kelly returning for something she’d forgotten – her phone or keys.