by Leslie North
Daphne scrunched her nose. “Winnetka? What’s in Winnetka?”
“That would be his mother,” Kaz supplied helpfully, his tone laced with amusement.
Nik glared at his brother before facing front again, his stoic expression firmly back in place. “Staying at my mother’s penthouse will be perfect. Her penthouse has a doorman and security cameras. And it has been fully vetted by the Bratva. Plus, there is a secret escape route in case we need to make a hasty retreat.”
“Great.” She made her tone flat to suggest the exact opposite. “I’m sure your mom will just love having a complete stranger camping out on her sofa for the next few weeks.”
“She is fine with it.”
“You’ve already talked to her?”
“I have.” Nik gripped the door as Kaz veered off onto the exit for Winnetka. “She understands that this is important business.”
His emphasis on the last word made Daphne’s hackles rise once more. Yep. That just confirmed what she was already thinking. Last night had been nothing but a diversion for him, something to kill time while he was locked in a hotel room with her. She blinked hard against the unwanted sting of tears. What an idiot she’d been to think it was anything more than that.
They pulled up in front of a sleek six-story building covered in shining steel and polished glass. Kaz got out of the Bentley and opened the door for her while the portly, middle-aged doorman rushed to help Nik out of the car.
“Mr. Volkov,” the doorman gushed, nearly tripping over himself to take the bags from Kaz. “And Mr. Volkov. Such a pleasure to see two such fine brothers grace our establishment.”
“This is Miss Daphne Allman,” Nik said, taking her by the arm and escorting her to the door. The doorman rushed ahead to open it for them. “She’ll be staying with us for the next couple of weeks. Please make sure she is well looked after.”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Volkov,” the doorman said, hurrying beside them through the posh marble lobby and over to a set of golden elevator doors. “Anything for you and your family. Your mother already rang down to tell us to expect you and your guest so we are prepared.”
“Thank you.” The elevator dinged open and Nik led Daphne inside, his grip still firm on her arm. Kaz took the bags from the doorman and walked in behind them.
“I’ll be back down for the car in a sec,” Kaz said to the doorman as the elevator doors closed.
Nik inserted a special key into the lock beside a button marked with a P and they rode up to the sixth floor in silence. When the doors dinged open again, it was to a black marble foyer filled with gilt gold furnishings and huge sparkling mirrors on the walls. An enormous round table filled with exotic fresh blooms graced the center of the space. Nik led a gawking Daphne out of the elevator with Kaz trailing behind them with the bags.
“Wow,” she said, staring at the soaring high ceilings painted with frescos. “You didn’t tell me your mother was loaded.”
“I didn’t think it was relevant.” Nik stopped before a set of white double doors and knocked twice using the gold lions’ head knocker. A woman answered—about Daphne’s height, slim, mid-fifties, with dark brown hair the same shade as Nik’s and the same sparkling green eyes as his. She smiled warmly at him and kissed him on both cheeks.
“So good to see you, my son,” she said, beaming up at him. “How are you?”
“I’m good, Mama.” Nik tugged Daphne forward. “And this is the guest I was telling you about. Mama, this is Daphne Allman. Daphne, this is my mother, Regina Volkov.”
“Nice to meet you,” Regina said, shaking Daphne’s hand, her greeting decidedly cooler than the one for her son. “I hope you will be comfortable here.”
“I’m sure I will be. Thank you for your hospitality.”
Regina held her gaze a moment longer, as if searching for something inside Daphne. Then she moved on to Kaz, her stepson, kissing him on both cheeks as well then leading them all inside the penthouse. It was as luxurious inside as the foyer was outside. Decorated in tasteful shades of beige and eggshell, the hardwood oak floors gleamed in the sunlight and the contemporary-style furniture looked both chic and comfortable—upholstered in overstuffed leather and microfiber.
Nik and his brother headed for the kitchen while Regina showed Daphne to the guest room. She felt a bit awkward, not really knowing the woman, but Regina’s friendly demeanor quickly put her at ease. The guest room was clean and tidy, if a bit bland for Daphne’s taste. She liked a kick of color in her surroundings—the Russian red in the master bedroom of the safe house apartment, for instance, though she couldn’t believe she’d ever think longingly of the place at all. “Thank you again for letting me stay here,” she said, setting her bag down near the queen-sized bed. The white down comforter looked like a fluffy cloud and she hated to touch it for fear of ruining something. “These past few days have been stressful to say the least.”
“Well, you should enjoy your time here and get some rest.” His mother turned away and walked around the room, pointing out the closet and attached bath before heading back to the door.
“My son will do everything in his power to keep you safe, even when it puts his own best interests at risk.” The slight edge in her tone made Daphne’s heart skip. She’d known Nik’s job was dangerous, but she’d never really considered the possibility of him being hurt or… worse. “That’s what happened to my Dima. Gone all these years now and I still miss him every single day.”
The raw pain in her voice struck a chord within Daphne. Even though her mom was still alive, it felt like she’d lost a little more of her each day. “I’m so sorry.”
Regina nodded then turned away. “Make yourself comfortable, even take a nap. I’ll wake you when it’s time for dinner.”
“Thank you.” Daphne waited until she was alone, then unpacked what little she’d brought before finally sinking down onto the edge of the bed because there was nowhere else to sit. It felt so cushiony and safe that soon she lay back and before she knew it was out like a light.
“Daphne, wake up.” Nik shook her shoulders gently, his heart pinching just a bit at the sight of her so relaxed and vulnerable and lovely. And in that damn purple dress too, the skirt sliding up to expose her shapely legs. She’d looked like that the night before too, after they’d made love. His heart pinched a bit at the memory. He’d acted like an ass this morning, he knew this. Rushing her when they’d left the hotel, purposely avoiding any and all references to their night together—until she’d blatantly brought it up in the Bentley. It wasn’t that he hadn’t enjoyed their time together. Trouble was, he feared he’d enjoyed it too much. In fact, the hours they’d spent together during his assignment had been some of the best in his recent memory. And that was a problem for a man like him. Bratva enforcers were married to their jobs. There was little to no time for a personal life, a life that even if he’d had one, Nik intended to keep entirely separate from his professional duties. Daphne crossed all those lines for him. Worse, she made him want to continue breaking those boundaries and surrender to the sweetness of her touch and the promise of more in her eyes.
But he couldn’t. To do so would be to court disaster.
Last night had been a wonderful one-time thing. And that’s all it ever could be. Because being with Daphne was all-consuming for him. When he’d been with her, inside her, held tight in her arms, he’d forgotten everything else—his job, his duty, his family. All he’d wanted was her, with him, forever.
Muscles tense, he shoved those fanciful dreams aside.
He was a made man, Russian mafia through and through. There was no escape, no changing that. And the truth was, he’d grown to care for Daphne enough that he refused to put her life in jeopardy like that by being with her. Therefore, he’d close those feelings off, like he did all of his emotions when he was on assignment, and get on with it. Because the sooner they put Hornbull behind bars for Tolya’s murder, the sooner he could let Daphne go.
No matter how badly it would hurt.
>
She murmured something in her sleep and frowned, trying to pull away from him and bury her head under the pillow. Nik exhaled slowly and shook her again. “Daphne, wake up. Dinner will be ready soon.”
Slowly, she peeked one eye open and squinted at him. “What time is it?”
Her husky, sleep-roughened voice sent a shiver of sensual awareness up his spine despite his resolve to steer clear of her again. She’d sounded the same way after she came too.
Nik cleared his suddenly constricted throat and looked away. “Nearly six. You’ve been asleep all afternoon.”
“Oh.” She yawned and stretched, giving him a fine view of all her soft curves. Curves his fingers itched to stroke and fondle again, but he clenched his fists and pushed to his feet instead as she rolled over to face him. “Let me just freshen up and I’ll be right out.”
He nodded and headed for the door. Distracted, he wandered back to the kitchen and found his mother busy preparing a salad to go with the as-yet-uncooked homemade pelmeni she’d made. The small beef and mushroom filled dumplings were his childhood favorite and nothing brought back home more poignantly than Mama’s cooking. He walked up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning around to kiss her cheek then asked in Russian, “Anything I can help you with?”
“Nyet.” She finished tossing the romaine, carrots, cheese, and croutons together then set the bowl aside. She wiped her hands off on the apron tied around her waist then faced him, answering in broken Russian she’d used with his father when he’d been alive. For a non-native, she spoke the language pretty well, having learned from the best—Nik’s dad. “All that’s left to do is boil the pelmeni, but that can wait until your girl is ready.”
“Mama, she’s not my girl.” Nik stepped back and pulled off his suit jacket, tossing it over the back of the sofa in the living room where Kaz sat watching TV. He leaned his hips back against the edge of a table lining the back of the sofa and crossed his arms, staring at his mother across the expanse of the dining room table and granite breakfast bar into the open kitchen. “Daphne is my assignment. Nothing more.”
Kaz snorted. “Yeah, right.”
Nik gave his half-brother a warning glare before stalking over to the table to set out the plates and silverware his mother had waiting on the breakfast bar. “She needs my protection until the trial. Her testimony can put Tolya’s killer away for years.”
“Right.” Kaz glanced back at Nik over his shoulder. “And your protection extends to the bedroom as well then, I suppose?”
“Enough!” Nik snapped in Russian. Unexpected heat prickled up from beneath the collar of his white dress shirt. He was a grown man. His mother knew that. Still, having his love life laid bare in front of her wasn’t something he appreciated. He hazarded a look in his mother’s direction and found her watching him, her expression concerned. “It’s nothing, Mama.”
“Hmm,” she said. “From your reaction, it certainly sounds like something.”
Before he could answer, Daphne walked out from the end of the hallway, looking far too adorable for her own good in the pair of jeans and T-shirt his mom had lent her and stockinged feet. Her blond curls were tied back into a low ponytail and her cheeks were flushed a delectable pink and all Nik wanted to do was take her in his arms and hold her against him until this whole fucking mess was over. His heart dropped to somewhere near his toes. Yeah. Not good. Not good at all.
He exhaled slowly and concentrated on folding the linen napkins and setting out the knives and spoons instead. “Have a seat in the living room with Kaz. Dinner should be ready shortly.”
“Nonsense,” his mother said, waving Daphne into the kitchen with her. “I can use an extra set of hands to help me with the pelmeni.”
Daphne gave him a deer-in-the-headlights stare before reluctantly moving in beside his mother at the large stainless-steel gas stove. His mom had a way of overwhelming newcomers sometimes, so he understood that look. Then again, it was almost as if his mom was trying to teach Daphne how to cook his favorite meal, the way she’d all but pounced on her after turning down Nik’s help so quickly. A huge pot filled with boiling water sat on the front burner and two trays of little flour-dough pouches were on the counter nearby.
Nik moved to the breakfast bar to keep an eye on the proceedings, just in case he needed to intervene. His mama meant well, but the last thing Nik needed right now was her creating more drama between him and Daphne than what was already brewing.
His mother handed Daphne a slotted spoon the same as the one she held herself then showed her how to scoop up the individual dumplings and lay them in the boiling water to avoid any splashing or damage to the delicate dough.
“Good, dear,” she said to Daphne. “Very good. You’re a natural at this. Which is fortunate since these pelmeni are my son’s favorite food. If you stay together, you’ll be making a lot of these for him in the future.”
“Mama,” Nik said, his tone low and full of warning. “It’s not like that between Daphne and me.”
Daphne looked back at him over her shoulder and the flicker of hurt in her gaze nearly knocked him to his knees. Dammit. He’d not meant that as harshly as it had sounded, but being in his mother’s house with Daphne underscored to him the danger of mixing business and pleasure, of all he stood to lose if things went south. He couldn’t let his growing feelings for Daphne affect his work. To do so now could spell death for both of them.
Kaz came up beside him and clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a knowing wink. His half-brother always had been too damned perceptive for his own good. Another trait they’d all inherited from their shared father. “Food ready yet, Mama?”
“Just about,” she said, helping Daphne get the first round of cooked dumplings out of the boiling water and onto a plate before putting in the next batch. “Why don’t you boys take a seat and help yourself to the wine. Nik, can you grab this salad for me?”
“Sure, Mama.” He walked over to get the bowl from the counter, his arm brushing against Daphne as he reached past her to get the salad and the tongs to serve it. She shivered and faced him, their mouths only inches apart. All at once, time seemed to slow and all Nik could see were her soft pink lips, the velvety curve of her cheek, the tiny wisps of curls around her face from the steam. Her perfume—roses and soap—drifted to him and his body tightened despite the surroundings. A clang of spoon against pan tumbled him back to reality and he cleared his throat and stepped away fast, not missing his mother’s inquisitive stare or the heat in Daphne’s pretty blue eyes. He forced a smile then hurried back to the dining table only to find Kaz smirking at him.
“No involvement. Only work,” his brother said as Nik set the bowl in the middle of the glass-topped dining table. “Sorry, bro. Not buying it. Can honestly say I’ve never looked at any of my assignments like that. You two just about set off the fire alarms.”
“Fuck off,” Nik growled under his breath in Russian. “Stay out of my business.”
“Sure.” Kaz rubbed a hand over his stubble-covered jaw and grinned. “As soon as your business doesn’t involve mine, brother.”
Thankfully, the rest of dinner preparation went uneventfully and soon they were all seated around the table, Daphne and his mother across from Kaz and Nik. Nik did his best to keep his head down and concentrate on the delicious food. With his first bite of savory pelmeni—all melt-in-your-mouth tender beef and deliciously earthy fresh mushrooms—the door to his childhood memories burst open. All the good times spent with his parents and siblings, all the laughter and joy and tears. He’d been very lucky to grow up with such loving bonds, despite the violent world his father inhabited. His parents had been truly in love with each other. Even now, their father’s portrait hung above the fireplace in the living room, watching over them all with wary interest.
“This is so good,” Daphne said, finishing her first pelmeni. “I’ve never had Russian food before.”
“Really, dear?” His mother’s interest perked up once m
ore, as evidenced by her quick smile at Nik and her narrowed gaze. “Where are your people from originally?”
Daphne wiped her mouth then sipped her chardonnay before answering. “My mother always said we did have a bit of Eastern European in the lineage somewhere.” She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and met Nik’s gaze across the table then lowered her eyes. “But mainly we Allmans are Irish and Swedish.”
“Guess that accounts for the blond hair, huh?” Kaz said around a bite of dumpling.
Nik kicked him hard in the shin under the table. For reasons he didn’t want to think about too much, the thought of his brother charming Daphne, even in small talk brought out his jealous side.
“Have you always lived in Chicago?” Nik asked, hoping to keep his mother from asking any more embarrassing questions.
“I was born in Madison, Wisconsin, but my family moved to Chicago when I was eleven.”
“Interesting,” his mother said, dolling out another serving of pelmeni to her sons and Daphne. “And where does your mother live, dear? In the city? What about brothers, sisters?”
Nik’s gaze flew to Daphne and caught her slightly pained look. Beside him Kaz stiffened as he chugged his wine then refilled his glass.
“My mother lives in a nursing home, actually. She’s got advanced dementia. And I’m an only child.”
“Oh, I’m so very sorry.” His mother put her arm around Daphne and pulled her closer into her side. “I never meant to bring up such a painful subject. Taking care of your mother all alone with no one to help you—no shoulder to cry on, no arms to hold you. Believe me, I know what that’s like, to be lonely. I was so grateful for the love I had with my Dima, Nik’s father. Such a blessing to me, even now.”