The Professional Part 2

by Cole, Kresley

  “I wish.” When I tried to picture how Sevastyan would react if I stole away, I kept hearing his promise: If you run from me again, I will catch you. It’s what I do. And then I’ll spread you facedown over my knees and whip your plump ass until you know better.

  Only now I knew he’d probably meant that literally. The thought made me shiver. “I’m stuck here for the duration.”

  “Say you accept the enforcer. Say the danger passes. Could you be happy there?”

  That was the crux of it, huh? “Moving to a new country to be with a new guy while starting at a new school seems like a lot of variables all at once. A lot of choices to make,” I pointed out. “And there’s more. . . .” I told her all about Filip.

  This afternoon, I hadn’t even gotten a chance to ask the man what Paxán had wanted to talk to him about before he bit out, “Sevastyan was all over you at the front doors. The bastard as good as announced you’re his.”

  Filip had looked harried, like this development had really affected him. But I hadn’t sensed any deeper feelings from him. Yes, he’d flirted with me, but I was fairly sure he would flirt with a perfumed rock. “How is this your business?” I’d demanded, wondering if he’d been drinking.

  “Because I care about you. Really care about you.” He’d rubbed his hand over his wan face, drawing attention to his bloodshot eyes, to the deep-seated anger blazing from them. “Sevastyan teed you up. He played you. Now he’s walking around this place with his shoulders back and a smirk on his scarred face—because he’s a billion dollars richer. You’re so naïve. You’re not even his type—did you know that?”

  Yes. Yes, I did. Still I said, “That’s bullshit, Filip. Not that I owe you an explanation, but Sevastyan wants me.” Except he hadn’t given me a reason why it was me that he wanted above all others. He’d just said that he’d do anything to possess me.

  “You got manipulated by a con artist, a hard-core prison thug. Well done, Cuz!”

  Then Filip had added a parting shot that had made me cringe, driving me to the sanctuary of my room. I hadn’t even gone down for dinner.

  Had I believed what he’d said about Sevastyan? No. But Filip’s accusations highlighted what I’d already accepted: I didn’t know Sevastyan.

  “What a scrote,” Jess decided, dismissing Filip easily. “Normally I’d say you need someone over there, running point for you, skull-fucking when necessary. But then I recall how you react when backed into a corner.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You come out throwing elbows,” she said. “You’re nice, until it’s time to not be nice.”

  “You’re quoting Road House?”

  “It was either that or quote from my latest torrid romance novel.” That was Jess’s not-so-secret habit. As much as she loved the idea of love, her reading tastes made sense. Every now and then, she’d foist one on me. “You wanted my unvarnished advice, Nat? Here it is—do nothing permanent. And you damn well better not do anything until you fly my ass over there.”

  Chapter 23

  I wasn’t surprised when I got a summons from Paxán the next morning. I hadn’t slept, was hardly functioning after two cups of strong tea.

  For most of the night, I’d paced, wondering how I’d gotten myself into this mess. After alternately blaming myself and Sevastyan for this, I’d settled on Sevastyan.

  He was more experienced than I was, and clearly more ruthless. But how had he manipulated me so easily? And to what end?

  Paxán would want a decision this morning. He would lay down the law.

  As I made my way to his study, I felt like I was marching to the gallows, my boot heels clicking along the marble. I adjusted the collar of my jade turtleneck, then smoothed my warm palms down the legs of my jeans. All I knew for certain was that I was bone-weary and so tired of being confused.

  I passed Gleb, one of the brigadiers, sporting a pistol in an uncovered holster. Like Sevastyan wore. The man gave me a nod of acknowledgment, but nothing like the friendly greetings I usually received when I encountered one of the men.

  Gleb’s response brought to mind Filip’s parting words: “All the brigadiers have been wagering whether the Siberian would lock you down. I should’ve taken that bet. But you told me there was nothing between you! And all that time, you let me think you wanted me.”

  I was now the subject of a bet. Paxán was right; my actions with Sevastyan had eroded my standing here. Live in the crime country, then obey its laws. . . .

  When I entered the study, I was taken aback by Paxán’s kindly expression. He’d been working on a clock, looking adorable with his magnifying glasses on. “Good morning, dorogaya moya! Tea?” Ever the gentleman. “You look like you could use some.” He removed his glasses, setting away his tools.

  Once I had a cup in hand, he motioned me to join him beside his desk. “I want to show you something.” He opened a large glossy book, flipping to a page. “Have you ever seen this animal?” He pointed to a picture of a black wolf with vivid amber eyes, poised to strike from a snowbank. “Stunning creature, no? It’s a Siberian wolf.”

  I nodded absently.

  “This type of wolf is more likely to be a loner than other wolves. Some will roam the wilderness, hunting by themselves. But like others of their kind, they mate for life. They’re vicious yet possess an undying loyalty.”

  I set down my cup. “We’re not talking about wolves, are we?”

  He shook his head. “The more I think about you and Sevastyan together, the more sense it makes. Then last night, he told me the two of you had come to an understanding?” The hopefulness in Paxán’s expression killed me.

  God, I didn’t want to disappoint this man. “I . . . maybe we did? But I don’t know if I feel that way now.”

  “Oh. I see.” In a sad tone, he said, “Yet actions have consequences, my dear. On the bright side, your engagement could be a long one.”

  Except I’d never be able to break it. I was about to hyperventilate. “But . . . but . . .” I pulled at my turtleneck, beginning to pace the room. “I don’t know him—not enough for this. I’m not saying I’d never want more with him, but I can’t just sign on for this. Not yet.”

  Jess was right. Don’t do anything permanent. No lifelong commitments. These men were expecting too much from me. This was too heavy. I couldn’t be bound by this twisted mafiya logic. “Can’t I just date him? In the States, we freaking date!”

  “We do here as well, unless you’re a crime boss’s daughter who’s gotten involved with his most trusted enforcer during a deadly war for territory.”

  When he explained it like that . . . Damn it, I knew I’d screwed up. But that didn’t stop me from grasping for any way out. “Sevastyan and I didn’t, um, consummate anything.”

  Paxán noted my panic, looking troubled in turn. “I won’t force you to make a decision you’re obviously uncomfortable with. Aleksei must have misread things with you. You shouldn’t be punished for that. But my only other option is to separate you two.”

  He’d laid out an alternative, and like a drowning woman, I reached for it. “What do you mean?”

  “I would need to send him from here, away from you. At least until things settle down.”

  “But this is his home. He adores Berezka.”

  “He has other properties,” Paxán said. “These are difficult times. We must make difficult choices.”

  Difficult? Try dismal: make some kind of commitment to a man who was a mystery to me, or send him away from his home.

  I felt dizzy. “I don’t want him to go.” My eyes watered. “I’m the odd one out here. I need to go.”

  “Nonsense!” Paxán crossed to me to grab my shoulders. “You are my daughter! This is your home. It always will be.”

  I gazed up at him, surprised by this outpouring of emotion from my buttoned-up father.

  As if discomfited by his reaction, he dropped his hands, backing up a step. “Make a decision, Natalie,” he said, his voice sounding sterner than I’d eve
r heard it.

  Nausea churned in my belly. “If I have to choose right now, this very minute . . .” So much pressure, confusion. In a rush, I said, “Then I don’t want anything permanent with Sevastyan. Send him away from here if you have to, but I can’t do this anymore!”

  As soon as I said the words, I regretted them—even before I saw that Sevastyan had just crossed the threshold into the room.

  He’d been smiling before he halted midstep, gorgeous lips curving over even, white teeth, his face all the more handsome for it. Something in my chest felt like it was shifting, twisting. Had he been happy to hear our voices, to join us?

  I’d wiped that heartbreaking smile right off his face.

  I had done that.

  As comprehension hit him, the muscle in his jaw ticked. His fists clenched, his tattooed fingers going white.

  Blood drained from my face, and I gasped at his expression; even Paxán took a protective step in front of me.

  Because Aleksandr Sevastyan looked like he was about to do murder.

  Chapter 24

  Eyes narrowed and cold, Sevastyan turned to stalk from the room.

  “I will discuss things with him, and all will be fine,” Paxán assured me, even as his face showed worry.

  I started after Sevastyan, saying over my shoulder, “No, I need to go talk to him.” I sped through the doorway out into the gallery, trailing after him. “Just wait, Sevastyan!”

  Shoulders bunched with tension, he didn’t slow. The panic I’d felt just moments before redoubled, now zooming in the other direction. What if I’d found the man who brought everything to the table? What if I’d just ruined things with him? “Sevastyan!” I followed him out the front doors onto the landing.

  The last time we were here, he’d been kissing me possessively, laying claim. Now he was striding away from me, heading toward his Mercedes—to drive away. To disappear.

  I rushed after him. Right when he reached his car, I grabbed his arm.

  He flung it out of my grip. “What do you want?”

  “You heard things . . . they were out of context.”

  “Then tell me you weren’t just getting me kicked out of my own goddamned home, where I have lived for eighteen years.”

  “It sounded worse than it was. And in the end I never would have allowed that.”

  His expression turned even colder. “You wouldn’t have allowed it? Only two weeks here, and you’ve assumed the role of princess so fucking easily.”

  I shook my head hard. “Paxán gave me two choices: sign up for something permanent with you, or see you leave. You tell me nothing about yourself, but expect me to make a commitment like that? I barely know you.”

  “You know enough. You know there was something between us.”

  Was. “Damn it, if you’d stop and let me explain—”

  He whirled around on me. “I understand perfectly. You want me to make you come. You crave for me to fuck you, but only if it ends there. Beyond sex, anything with me doesn’t appeal to you.”

  I pinched my forehead. “That’s not fair!” I didn’t feel like I was being backed into a corner; I was being tossed headlong. “I never asked for any of this, never asked for this kind of pressure!”

  “This discussion is over. The situation has been made crystal clear to me.” He opened his car, slid his big frame behind the wheel, then slammed the door in my face.

  Corner, meet Natalie. “You asshole!” As he started the engine, I banged on the window with the bottom of my fist and launched my boot into the side of the car. ABC, baby! Always Be Crazier. “You rip me out of my life and then expect me to live up to your expectations?” Another kick. “Well, fuck you!” I leaned down so my head was level with his. “Go find some submissive bimbo who’ll give you what I obviously can’t.”

  He cast me a cruel smirk. “Planning to, pet.” The engine revved, and he was gone.

  I looked like a bucket of fuck.

  Felt like one too. Outside, another dreary, rain-filled day was coming to a close, dusk falling upon Berezka. Inside, I sat before my mirror, pinching my cheeks, scowling into the glass.

  To brighten my outlook, I’d dressed in a royal-blue peplum top that looked sassy with a skirt of superfine merino wool and slouchy leather ankle boots.

  It hadn’t helped my outlook. Not even a little.

  Deeming my appearance good as it’s gonna get, I set off for Paxán’s study to discuss some things with him.

  My paleness and dark circles shouldn’t surprise me, considering the last thirty or so hours of sleeplessness, confusion, and fury. Since Sevastyan had sped off yesterday morning, I’d run the gamut.

  Dinner last night had been a miserable experience. I hadn’t realized how much I would miss his company. No, he hadn’t spoken to me much over the last two weeks, but at least I’d felt his presence, his palpable strength and protection.

  Both Paxán and I had been out of sorts. Though he always politely turned off his cell phone during meals, last night he’d checked every message, every ring. He hadn’t seemed to know what to do with himself, so unused to any conflict with the man he considered his son.

  I’d felt a pang, wondering how much more Paxán could be expected to deal with. Aside from danger and unrest, he now had to live with this drama between his daughter and his enforcer?

  Not to mention the tension between Filip and me. The guy must’ve heard I’d had a falling-out with Sevastyan, because he’d showed for dinner. Too bad that he’d been uncommunicative and drunk. Which had seemed to perplex Paxán.

  After dinner had been just as miserable. All night I’d watched for Sevastyan’s return. He hadn’t come home, had probably spent the night in some other woman’s bed.

  At dawn, I’d clutched my balcony rail, anger ripping through me. He’d expected me to make all the right moves, all the time—though I had no reference to guide me. That anger had a way of clarifying my thoughts. I’d screwed up; he’d screwed another, removing himself from any chance of reconciliation.

  He’d axed his limb off my decision tree. Which was a kind of decision.

  With one decision down, I’d formulated others. Hence my meeting with Paxán this evening.

  As I tromped down the stairs, I wondered if I’d see Sevastyan. I figured he’d be back today, if for no other reason than his undying loyalty to his boss.

  Speak of the devil—I reached the gallery leading to Paxán’s study just as Sevastyan did. On his way there as well? “You’ve returned?” My voice was scratchy, and I sounded as exhausted as I knew I looked.

  “I still work with him,” Sevastyan said in a low tone when we both slowed to a stop, as if by silent agreement. “I won’t be kept away right when he needs me most.”

  Finally we were on the same page. “We need to talk.”

  Sevastyan canted his head at me, much as he had at that bar the first night I’d met him. His pupils dilated, his eyes lit with more than simple interest.

  Realization hit me. “You think I want to talk about . . . you and me? That ship has sailed.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “You are angry with me?”

  Utterly pissed! But I needed to keep a lid on it, to calmly state my new proposal.

  “You have a lot of nerve, Natalie.”

  “I’ve got . . . I’VE got nerve?” There went the lid. “Listen up, manwhore, you don’t get to talk to me like that anymore. You revoked that privilege with your behavior yesterday.”

  “My behavior? You’ll have to enlighten me.”

  “When you heard something out of context, flew off the handle, and headed out to bury your relationship sorrows—balls deep—in another woman.”

  He eased closer to me. “You’re jealous.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Please. My shallow infatuation with you is done. As they say in the movies: you killed it dead.”

  That jaw muscle ticked away as he grated, “Then what did you want to talk to me about?”

  In the dim light of dusk, rain pattered the ga
llery windows, casting shadows over his face. The face that I’d lovingly kissed. Stay on topic, Nat. “I’m worried about Paxán. He’s got enough on his plate without all this.”

  “Agreed,” Sevastyan said. “What do you suggest I do?”

  “I suggest we go in there and tell him that we’ve worked out our differences and can be civil. We’ll tell him that we’ve ended whatever it was between us, so you can continue to live here. I think if we present a unified front, it will ease his mind.”

  Sevastyan parted his lips, but I interrupted him: “This isn’t up for debate.” I turned away and strode toward the study.

  He passed me to open the door, saying over his shoulder, “I haven’t been with anyone else.”

  I stutter-stepped. My heart did the same. “Should I believe that?” For the second time in as many days, I found myself mentally urging him: Say yes, say yes.

  “I don’t care if you do or not.” I’d never seen the Siberian this ice cold.

  But I did believe him. Well, hell, then he hadn’t been axed from my decision tree? Maybe that meant it wasn’t over with him?

  He added, “I was called away by work concerns.”

  In other words, he’d merely taken a rain check on the manwhoring. So over! “You’re such a dick,” I muttered. Yet when we entered the room, I pasted a huge smile on my face for Paxán.

  He called to us, “Good evening to both of you. Aleksei, it’s good to see you here. And with Natalie!”

  “Can we speak with you for a minute?” I asked, nearly wincing when his eyes twinkled even brighter than usual. He must think we’d come to announce something more than: we’re totes just friends!

  “Of course. Sit, sit.”

  Sevastyan sank back on one of the settees, resting an ankle over the opposite knee; at the other end, I perched on the edge of the cushion.

  Wasting no time, I said, “Paxán, we want you to know that there won’t be any future improprieties between us.”