The Lion in Russia

by Roslyn Hardy Holcomb

  She gave him an exasperated look. “Leo, we’ve been in bed for nearly twenty four hours. I don’t know about you, but I have to eat, not to mention I have an assignment today,” she said.

  “An assignment?”

  “Yes, it’s just a small show. Nothing crucial, but I did promise to do it.” She rolled her eyes as he gave her a petulant look. “You have got to be kidding me. Please tell me you’re not pouting.”

  “No, I’m not. What if I come along?”

  “It’s for a children’s charity. I’m sure your deep pockets will be more than welcome. In fact, I’d hazard a guess they’d rather see you than me.”

  ***

  Vries leaned back in her chair as the makeup artist put the finishing touches on her face. Leo sat in a metal folding chair next to her, texting and sending emails. Apparently his being on vacation didn’t keep the needs of his business at bay. She looked up as the makeup artist sighed again and gave her a look that somehow combined aggravation and disgust. Vries’s face-cracking yawn had smeared the meticulously applied lipstick. Vries smiled apologetically, exhausted though she was, the last twenty-four hours were more than worth it. She glanced over at Leo and met his gaze. His slow smile let her know he was thinking the same thing she was; how soon could they get back into bed? Not soon enough for her, and apparently not for him either. The makeup artist hissed at her and Vries turned to face her again.

  “Sorry Sharla.”

  “Too many late nights?” Sharla said with a disapproving frown. She was one of Vries’s favorite makeup artists. She always requested Sharla whenever she could, frequently joking that if the other woman was a foot taller she’d put all of them out of work. Sharla’s petite frame and rich golden brown skin were perfectly set off by her designer jeans and vintage bright pink Chanel jacket. Her makeup, of course, was flawless.

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “Just be careful. That’s absolute hell on your skin,” Sharla said.

  “Don’t I know it,” Vries said. “You know I get regular facials.”

  “At my sister’s spa, and I’m sure she tells you all the treatments in the world can’t make up for too much partying,” Sharla said.

  “For God’s sake Shar, you know I haven’t partied in forever.”

  “Then why are you half asleep in my chair…” her words trailed off as Vries’s gaze slid over to Leo for just a second, but it was long enough for the other woman to catch on. “Oh, well, that’s great for your skin. Carry on.”

  “Thanks for your permission, Mommy,” Vries said, rolling her eyes.

  The woman worked industriously for several long moments, then suddenly stopped to stare off at a point over Vries head. Vries noticed the other woman’s frown and turned to look as well. Damn, she should’ve known. Cesaré. She watched as the other model crossed the room, her sleek frame and signature walk drew all eyes to her, while the hush that had fallen over the room turned into an insistent buzz. People looked from Vries to Cesaré and back again with avid anticipation.

  Sharla sighed. “I had no idea Antoine had asked her to work this show. He’s supposed to be your friend.”

  “Why wouldn’t he? She’s still a hot property,” Vries said with a shrug. She was well-practiced at this point in maintaining a calm demeanor, even though her stomach churned a bit at the sight of the other woman. There had never been a public confrontation, and generally they ignored one another, but working the same show was always uncomfortable. There were times when she suspected the other model had sabotaged her, and though she was ashamed to admit it, she’d definitely gotten her own digs in as well.

  “Yeah, but you guys have beef…” the makeup artist began, her eyes wide as she blotted Vries’s nose.

  Vries raised both hands toward her hair to pull it in frustration before she remembered the hairdresser had just spent an hour fluffing her do. “I don’t know why people keep saying that. Cesaré and I have never had beef. Everyone wanted us to have beef and when we were young and stupid we played into it a little bit, but not all that much.”

  “What’s going on? Why is everyone looking over here?” Leo asked. Vries glanced his way, surprised he’d even noticed.

  “Cesaré is here,” Vries said. “Everyone’s anticipating a cat fight.”

  “Well there is bad blood between you. I wonder why they invited you both. I need to have a word with Antoine,” he said with a heavy frown as he rose to his feet.

  “Oh for the love of God, you do not need to speak to Antoine,” Vries said, her mind boggling as she imagined the slight Frenchman’s reaction to a confrontation with the giant Russian. He’d probably have a fit of the vapors and the show would have to be canceled. Besides, Vries knew Antoine meant no harm. He just wanted to created buzz which in turn would result in more money for the charity he favored.

  “Sit down, Leo,” she said. “You’re scaring people. Especially me. Just for the record, there is no bad blood between us. I doubt we’ve said twenty words in the ten years she’s been out. I can’t believe people are still expecting us to make a scene. I’m thirty-five years old for Christ’s sake. Time out for this shit,” Vries said as she rose from her seat.

  Cesaré had been placed in a station not far from her own, and Vries quickly made her way toward the area where the other model was seated with a hair stylist putting her hair up in hot rollers. The woman stared up at her, curiosity evident in her huge wide-spaced eyes. She made to rise from the chair and Vries knew she had to act before Cesaré had a chance to ask what the hell she was doing there, thus adding fuel to all the rumors about them. Before anyone could react, Vries leaned over the other woman and placed her lips on hers. There were audible gasps around the room. The astonishment was absolutely palpable. When she raised her head, Cesaré was staring at her a slight smile of wry amusement curving her lips. Vries nodded at her, returned her smile then rose to her full height. With an arched brow she glanced around the room at all the awestruck faces. Mission accomplished. Then she crossed the room with as much coolness as she could muster and returned to her own seat. Leo and Sharla both stood there staring at her as though not believing their eyes.

  Vries cut her eyes over to Leo as she casually dropped back into the chair.

  “What? Are you jealous?” she asked with an arched brow.

  Leo resumed his seat. “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On whether or not there was tongue involved.”

  Oh, to hell with makeup. Vries threw her head back and laughed until her sides ached. If every person in the room hadn’t been staring before they certainly were now, including Cesaré who returned Vries’s smile with one of her own.

  Chapter Seven

  “I absolutely cannot believe how big it is,” Vries said, staring in wonder.

  Leo lowered his head, looking a bit abashed. “Yes, that’s pretty much everyone’s reaction.”

  Vries frowned. “Exactly how many people have seen it?”

  He chuckled. “A lot fewer than you would think.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. “The damned thing really should have its own zip code. I’ve never seen one so big before in my life.”

  “Now I think you’re exaggerating. It’s not that impressive, I’ve certainly seen bigger.”

  She stared at him a few seconds, then looked back down. “I mean, how did it ever fit?”

  “Rumor has it they had to take down a door, or maybe a wall.”

  Vries walked around to the other side of the outrageously large marble tub, shaking her head in disbelief. She hadn’t seen it when they came back to Leo’s place the previous evening because it was on the other side of the master bath in what she’d thought was a closet. Despite her misgivings about moving in with Leo so quickly, she couldn’t deny that it made sense in regard to her assignment, but she’d only moved enough clothes for the next couple of weeks. She continued to stare at the tub. The huge marble edifice was large enough for no fewer than six people. A
nd though she really hoped otherwise, she suspected the taps were real gold.

  “Funny, you don’t strike me as a tub kind of guy at all,” she said.

  “I’m not. I’ve never used it. It takes too long to fill the thing. I’m usually in a hurry.”

  Vries stared at him. Sacrilege. Absolute sacrilege. If she could, she would live in it. Such a huge tub was a tremendous luxury. She’d gradually adapted to the size of European fixtures, so much so that when she traveled to the States she was surprised by the size. “So why do you have it?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “It came with the house, I never really thought about it.” He turned to leave the room.

  “Oh, no. No way am I going to miss out on this,” she said. “I love a nice long soak.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, and it’s not every day I get a chance to use a tub this large.”

  “Well, by all means have at it.”

  She looked up at him her lips forming what she knew to be a delicious pout. “You mean, you won’t join me? A tub like this is designed for company.”

  His face brightened immediately as he smiled. “But of course.”

  As he’d said, it did take a long time to fill the tub, but it had some type of mechanism to keep the water warm as it filled. Once it was done, Vries stepped in and Leo followed her. She sank back against his chest with a happy sigh.

  “Yet another perk of being a billionaire.”

  “Yes, and one I didn’t even know about,” he said.

  “You mean you’ve never bathed with anyone?” The satiny smooth water whorled around them. Seated as she was with her back to his front Vries felt cocooned and secure in a way she’d never experienced. This was positively yummy.

  “Like I said, I’m usually too busy.” He shrugged, then began cupping the water and streaming it over her bare breasts. Her nipples immediately budded in response to the soft caress of the warm water.

  “How would you like to go to the opera with me tonight?” he said.

  “The opera?” she said turning in the water to face him.

  “I suppose I should’ve asked if you enjoy opera?” he said with a rueful expression.

  “Sure, I’ve been a couple of times. It’s impossible to live in Milan and not go, but I never would have pegged you for an opera type of guy.”

  “I am Russian. There is artistry in my blood, not a lot of it, but it is there. Pagliacci is my favorite opera. They’re doing a special production to commemorate its premiere here.”

  “Pagliacci? Clowns? Your favorite opera is about clowns?” she said, wondering if she would ever tire of getting to know this man. The various facets of his character were endlessly fascinating.

  “The themes are universal, the treachery of a woman, the broken hearted man. Death and mayhem,” he said with a dismissive wave of one hand, while sliding his other hand languidly up and down her arm.

  Vries gave him a sad shake of her head. “If those are universal themes for you, you need new people, but sure we can go to the opera tonight.”

  He palmed her bottom under the water sending a frisson of response up her spine. “Wear something amazing tonight. I want to show you off.”

  “Are you implying that I don’t always look amazing?” She arched an imperious brow.

  “Only a foolish man would say such a thing, and I’ve never been a fool.” He slid his hands up her back to pull her into his embrace. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist in the water. “But that can wait. We have all day for this,” he said as he raised his head to seek her lips. “And that’s the best perk of all.”

  Vries swirled in front of the full-length mirror in Leo’s bedroom. The sleek white dress she was wearing moved against her legs, revealing a thigh high slit which showed a flash of leg each time she moved. The dress had been an impulse buy from a show last spring. She rarely wore anything that wasn’t Girasole; after all, she was paid an outrageous amount of money to do so, and the clothes were free, but this dress had literally made her mouth water. In order to show off the elegant origami-type folds in the back, she’d pinned her hair up into a chignon which she’d left deliberately messy in contrast with the crisp sophistication of the dress. She intended to make Leo beg, and had no doubt this dress would do the trick.

  She frowned as she picked up her heavily jeweled minaudière. Given her preferences they wouldn’t be going out tonight. Logically she knew they could be attacked anywhere, but she felt better able to protect Leo in the home Deringer had so carefully secured. All indications were that if a hit was coming, Milan was the best location simply because it gave Putilin greater deniability. Hitting such a high profile person was a bold move, but the Russian president was legendary for making bold moves. It would certainly be easier if he could simply deny any knowledge. That would be more believable if it occurred outside Russia. No one would actually believe it, but it would be more plausible if everyone didn’t already know the man was a homicidal maniac.

  Not for the first time in the past couple of days she wondered where Deringer was. She hadn’t heard from him since that annoying phone call a couple days ago, though she could see signs that he was about; she’d even picked up his tail when they returned from the show the day before. That would never have happened unless he wanted it to. Presumably he wanted her to know he was still working the case. Deringer moved in mysterious ways, but right now she’d prefer he just used the goddamned phone. She shook her head as she walked out the door. Thus far this case had gone smoothly. Well except for the sleeping with the client part, there had been no hiccups in the plan at all. No wonder she was terrified.

  Vries leaned her head back against the impossibly soft leather in the luxury sedan. Leo was holding her hand as Pushka drove them to the opera. Leo’s dark charcoal business suit contrasted nicely with his light hair and eyes, emphasizing his striking good looks. His pleasant mood was infectious and she joined him in humming along to the music streaming through the speakers. He apparently had an affinity for lounge music, particularly Dean Martin. Given everything she’d discovered about him in the past couple of days, she didn’t even bat a lash though when he broke out in song, she couldn’t help but laugh even though he made up for in enthusiasm what he lacked in talent.

  He pulled her closer on the seat. “I’m deeply wounded that you’re laughing at my singing,” he said, glowering at her.

  His facial expression only made her laugh harder. “I doubt that I’m the first,” she said, still giggling.

  “That’s why I’m hurt,” he said, then without warning he leaned forward and began tickling her. Vries gasped and tried to wiggle away. Suddenly there was a strange cracking noise she immediately recognized. Without a conscious thought she reacted, dragging Leo to the floor of the car and sprawling on top of him just as though in slow motion, the glass of the back windshield cracked in a familiar spider web pattern. As each bullet hit the windshield it generated its own web. One. A pause. Then two and three in rapid succession. The way the pattern bloomed was almost artistic. The glass was bullet proof and the laminate coating held the broken shards in place, but just from the way it cracked she could tell it was a high-caliber weapon. Illegal as hell here in Italy and not particularly easy to acquire or bring into the country. Those factors severely limited the list of possible suspects. Government or Mafia. Given what Leo was up to, it was easy enough to check off All of the Above. Despite the fear that had stalked her almost from the beginning of this assignment, she moved with calm efficiency to neutralize the situation as quickly as possible. As always the fear was gone the moment the action started.

  “Hit it Pushka!” she yelled at the driver unnecessarily. The sedan accelerated with the alacrity of an RPG. Obviously Pushka had taken defensive driving courses. As she looked around trying to tell the direction of the gunshots she grabbed her minaudière from the seat and opened the small purse with practiced movements. Within seconds she had a small, but lethal semi-automatic handgun in her hands and climb
ed up on the backseat trying to determine the direction of the shots. The traffic was not as congested as usual and she saw a motorcycle with a passenger turned backwards facing her wearing a ninja mask, but she didn’t see a weapon. The driver was weaving in and out of traffic anyway, she had no chance of getting off a clear shot. She looked down to where Leo was trying to climb up from the floor.

  “Stay down honey, Pushka should have us home soon,” she said, still distracted by her quest for the culprit. Where the hell was Deringer? She knew he had to be somewhere nearby. She hoped he’d managed to follow the shooter as her first responsibility was to get Leo somewhere safe. Leo stopped trying to move, but he stared up at her, his expression puzzled and then fiery hot. She knew there would be hell to pay, but she couldn’t worry about it right now. Maintaining her vigilance, she watched the traffic as Pushka drove them back to the palazzo.

  Chapter Eight

  When they arrived home Vries wasn’t surprised to see a full complement of Leo’s security detail waiting at the house, especially when she’d heard Pushka speaking rapidly in Russian into his headset almost immediately after the shooting. She’d hoped they would be there, relieved at least for the moment of her responsibility to secure the perimeter, she thought she’d be able to escape to the bedroom while Leo talked to his men. Now that the excitement was over she felt just a bit disoriented. It was the first time she’d had to protect someone she cared about. She kept replaying the events through her mind. If Leo hadn’t leaned forward in just that moment the bullet might have hit his head. Knowing the glass was bulletproof did nothing to ease her dismay; it had been known to fail. And there was some ammo especially designed to pierce it. Even imagining such a thing made her nauseated.

  However her efforts to escape Leo’s wrath, at least temporarily, were thwarted when without a word he quietly followed her up the stairs. The double doors leading into the bedroom closed behind him with barely a sound and he paused beside a chair to slip his suit jacket off his shoulders. Tossing it onto the chair he walked over to the coffee bar in the adjacent suite and poured a couple fingers of vodka then returned to her side to hand her the bottle of water she requested. She walked into the dressing room on the other side of the bedroom suite, and began removing her evening gown. The bedroom, with its California king-sized bed was probably her favorite room in his house. The bright blues and greens and soft yellows were cooled with the strategic placement of white pieces throughout the room. The room was the complete opposite of her house, but somehow it managed to have the same soothing effect. At least it had. Until now.