“You scared the crap out of me.” I settled into the seat across from him and tried to hide the way my entire body trembled by feigning anger. “What are you doing here? Spying on me?”
“I’m tired of waiting, Rourke. We need to settle things.”
I concentrated on arranging the folds of my dress around my knees. “The way I see it, you’re not in the position to give orders.”
His hand crept across the distance between us. He threaded his fingers through mine. The warmth in his grip, the tentative caress of his skin against mine, made me lose my train of thought. “Cocky. I like it.”
“No more games.”
“I understand.” His voice held a somber note. He brushed the pad of his thumb over the back of my hand. The caress turned my blood to molten lava. “What are your demands, Mrs. Menshikov?”
“Mr. McElroy wants me to file for an annulment or a divorce.” I swallowed and looked away. “He says I’m in way over my head and that I need to get out.”
His fingers tightened around mine. “Is that what you want?” When I didn’t answer, he gave a gentle tug, pulling me across the seat to his side of the vehicle.
“I want my husband back. I want to walk down the street without being followed. I want everything to go back to the way it was.” I bit my lower lip to cut off the words, hating the way my voice quavered.
“That’s never going to happen, Rourke. When you stepped into my world, you gave up all those things. The sooner you accept that, the better you’ll be able to cope.”
“Do you hear yourself?” I snorted and tried to pull away without success. “I feel like I’ve landed in the middle of a John Clancy novel.”
“Come back to me, and I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy. Name your price.” His grip tightened on my hand. “Unless it’s too late?”
I stared at him, considering his words. Seconds of silence ticked past. What if he refused my request? If he said no, could I live without him? For the sake of our unborn child, I had to try. I gathered my courage. “Give it up.”
“What? The money? The houses? My businesses?”
“The guns. I want you to stop.” His power and strength had drawn me to him from the start. Being his wife exceeded my wildest dreams. Was I wrong to ask him to give up the things that made him Roman Menshikov?
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I know exactly what I mean.”
“I don’t think you do.” His eyes narrowed, sending a thrill down my spine. “You’re asking for the impossible. It would be easier for me to purchase the moon.”
I lifted my chin, unwilling to compromise.
He shook his head and leaned back on the seat, stirring the subtle scent of his cologne. “There are too many people involved—too many wheels in motion. It’s not just about us. Thousands of lives are at stake.” When I didn’t reply, he growled in frustration. “Fuck. Why do you have to be so stubborn?” The flat of his palm scraped over the stubble of his burgeoning beard. “I’ve been working my whole life toward one goal, and you want me to throw it all away.”
“You asked, and that’s my answer.”
For the first time, his gaze left me to stare out the window at the city. The car paused for a stoplight. He contemplated a couple holding hands on the sidewalk. Their small dog danced at the end of a leash, circling their feet. A pang of loss struck me in the chest. That would never be us.
“You’re not playing fair, Rourke.” One corner of his mouth lifted higher. “And you have no idea how much that turns me on. Do you have a counteroffer?” The darkness of his gaze caused a pulse of excitement between my legs.
“I might be in a better position to negotiate if I had more facts.”
“Excellent. Continue.” He twirled a finger in the air between us, the way he often did during his business meetings when the pace slowed.
“Agent Frankel says you killed Lavender Cunningham, or that you had a hand in her death. Is it true?” I held my breath, dreading his answer. His next words could change the course of our lives forever.
Taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he tilted my face toward his. I reluctantly lifted my gaze. In the shadows, his blue irises seemed black. “I have no knowledge of Lavender’s death.”
Frankel’s accusations prickled beneath my skin, but Roman’s direct gaze brimmed with sincerity. “Did you buy her cars and vacations and an apartment?”
“I believe the question you’re asking is have I been unfaithful to you. And the answer is no. Not once. And I never will. If you believe I’d cheat on you, then you don’t know me at all.” He lifted my hand to his lips and began to kiss the tip of each finger. Pops of desire sizzled beneath my skin. “I have many faults, Rourke, but above all else, I’m loyal. I pledged to be faithful to you, and I’ll never, ever break that vow.”
The truth in his words rang through me. Roman’s deceptions had always been by omission. The shades of right and wrong began to blur together. I watched his full lips worship my fingers and felt my resolve dissipating. “I don’t know who to believe anymore.”
“Lavender went through a financial rough patch a few years ago and came to me for help. I loaned her money, assumed the mortgage on her apartment, and gave her one of my old vehicles. She’s been repaying the debt in monthly installments, but no one mentioned that, did they? As for the vacations, occasionally I took her along on some of my business trips to coordinate my social events while I looked for another personal assistant. But that was long before you came along. As soon as I became serious about you, I told her those trips were off the table, and we’d need to find a new solution to her debt repayment.”
I looked away, staring out the car window, weighing his answers against the bullshit I’d been told by Frankel, McElroy, and Nicky. “I want to believe you, but it’s hard for me to trust you, given the situation you’re in.”
“You can verify everything I’ve said through our accountants. She signed a contract, and the payments have been documented.” Despite the dimly lit interior, I saw the way he’d flinched at my accusations. I hated hurting him, and I hated myself more for questioning his integrity.
“And what about that night in your study? The night before she died. You were yelling at her on the phone. I saw her name on your caller ID.”
“Were you spying on me, Rourke?” His smile grew wider. “I’ve seriously underestimated you.”
I shrugged. “The only way I can find anything out is to snoop.”
“Ivan to spoke with her about the breach of confidentiality the day before she died. She didn’t like it. She called me, pissed off, and gave me an earful. That’s all there is to it.”
“Frankel said you had longstanding ties. He said her real name was Olga something-or-other.”
“Walenska,” he corrected. “Her father was secretary to my father and was killed trying to protect him. Our families have been intertwined for centuries. It’s the reason I’ve always felt responsible for her welfare.” Lines of worry deepened across his forehead. “She’s just one of many.”
“Why couldn’t you tell me that?” During my sleepless nights, I’d failed to contemplate the enormity of his reach and how many people might be affected by his actions. I was beginning to understand.
“I don’t want to worry you with unimportant details.” The simplicity of his answer added to my frustration. He lifted his eyebrows, goading me into rebuttal.
“When you hide things from me, it makes me nervous. I’m constantly wondering when the other shoe is going to drop.”
“You’re overthinking things.” His gaze darkened and dropped to my mouth. My breath stuttered. He licked his lower lip, like he could taste me. “Everything is fine.”
“Things are not fine.” Past events had demonstrated the scope of Roman’s power, but even billionaire warlords had their limitations. “Federal agents are following our every move. Ivan and Lavender are dead. One of us might be next. That’s not the kind of life I
want for—for us.” I almost spilled the news of my pregnancy but held back at the last second. Before I told him about the baby, I needed reassurance of his good intentions.
“I’ve already lost one of the most important people in my life. I’m not going to lose you, too.” Sadness underscored his words.
At the mention of Ivan, we fell silent for a moment. He continued to caress the backs of my fingers with the pad of his thumb, stroking up and down, his touch light and gentle. The strength of his gaze remained unwavering.
“I need guarantees.” He didn’t know it yet, but we had three lives to consider now instead of two.
“Spoken like a true businesswoman.” His chuckle rumbled through my ears. I loved his voice with all its layers and textures. “You have to trust me, Rourke. I’ve been playing this game for a very long time.” The weariness in his voice stirred my sympathies.
“You’ve been through this kind of situation before?” I covered his hand with mine, stilling his caresses. He’d been fighting an enormous battle alone.
“My entire life.”
I closed the gap between us. The smooth fabric of his trousers grazed my bare leg, sending an electric thrill into my center. In that moment of honesty, I realized I’d never grow tired of him, or bored, or dissatisfied. We just needed to find a path wide enough to accommodate both of us. “You’re not alone, Roman. You have me.”
“Do I, Rourke?” he asked, and dropped his mouth to mine.
11
Roman
Rourke’s kiss gutted me. The velvet softness of her lips rekindled feelings of longing and desperation. She released my hand and leaned toward the opposite side of the car. I let her go, not because I wanted to, but because she seemed to need the separation. As the Maybach glided across Manhattan, I focused on the city. Once, I’d seen endless opportunities amid the concrete and steel, but tonight…tonight, I saw potential danger and the evidence of all my shortcomings. I kept fucking up at every turn. We didn’t speak again until the car stopped in front of our building.
“Can I come upstairs?” The words stuck in my dry throat. The drive had passed by too quickly. I needed more time. I needed more her. “I’d like a hot shower and to grab a few things from my study before I go.”
“Of course.” She didn’t look at me when she spoke. The loss of eye contact hurt more than the blade of a well-honed knife.
Jose opened the car door and extended a hand to help Rourke exit. The bright streetlights spilled over the sidewalk contrasting with the sobriety of the night. He nodded, his gaze meeting mine as I unfolded my body, noting the stiffness in my joints. “Welcome home, sir,” he said.
“Thank you, Jose.” I shook his hand, appreciating his loyalty. He’d been with me longer than any of my other employees. “How’s your wife doing?”
Surprise flashed through his gaze at my question. Had I always been such an asshole? “Fine, thanks to you. The doctors think they got all of the tumor, and she’s headed toward remission.”
“No need to thank me.” Calling in a team of specialists to treat her cancer had been as simple as a phone call for me, but it meant the world to him. If I hadn’t used my resources to help him, I’d never have forgiven myself. “Give her my best, would you?”
Rourke paused at the revolving door and glanced over her shoulder. “Roman? Are you coming?”
I tried not to read anything into the straight line of her lips. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her smile. Had I done that to her? Robbed the joy from her life? In the grand scheme of things, I didn’t give a damn what the world thought of me. Only her. I never wanted to disappoint her, and I’d done nothing but let her down since our marriage.
We passed the security desk, our heels tapping on the pristine marble tiles. Inside the elevator car, I slid my key into the card reader for the penthouse. She stared straight ahead, hands clasped in front of her, chin raised. As we began our ascent toward the penthouse, my misgivings grew with each passing floor. I’d closed enough deals in my life to know when I was losing the contract. This was my strength; I crushed it in the boardroom. If I didn’t act quickly, she might slip through my fingers again.
I pressed the stop button. The car lurched to a halt.
“What’s wrong?” Her eyes widened. “Roman?”
“Fuck it,” I said. Unlocking the sliding door that housed an invisible key pad on the control panel, I typed in the sequence of numbers that would reveal all my secrets. The elevator reversed directions.
“Where are we going?”
“Down.”
“You promised no more games. I’m tired.” The weariness in her tone bolstered my decision. We’d been tiptoeing around each other for too long. She puffed out a heavy breath. “I need to rest.”
“You want answers. I’m giving them to you. This is me laying all my cards on the table. Full disclosure. I only need a few minutes.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Alright. The floor is yours, Mr. Menshikov.”
What I was about to do breached every level of security in my business, but it had to be done. If I was going to trust her—if she was going to make the transition from bystander to partner—she needed to know the stakes. I’d always been a gambler, and I was willing to place all my chips on her.
I inhaled and prepared to speak the words I’d never spoken to anyone. “When I was seventeen, Ivan took me to Kitzeh.” I lifted a hand at her scowl. “I know I told you I’d never been there, but it wasn’t a complete lie. Roman Menshikov has never been there. We toured the countryside under false names. I met the people of my country. They still spoke of my parents and what their legacy had meant to them.” The memories of their rundown homes, their starving faces, and their hopelessness haunted my nightmares. “The new government promised them prosperity and peace but delivered poverty and terror.”
“It must have been traumatic.” Her hand touched mine. I was getting through to her. It became more important than ever to make her understand why Kitzeh meant so much to me.
“Everyone with the Menshikov name had been executed, but a few of my relatives hid, changed their identities, and continued to talk about reclaiming control of the country. I left with a new understanding of who I was and the gravity of my responsibilities.” The pain of those days brought a lump to my throat. It felt good to share my history with her.
“I don’t know what to say.” Her fingers threaded through mine. I yearned to pull her close but hesitated, not wanting to lose the ground I’d gained.
“You don’t need to say anything. I just wanted you to know.” The elevator passed the ground floor and continued its descent, taking us into the heart of my hidden world. When the doors opened, there would be no turning back for either of us.
12
Rourke
The elevator doors opened into a vault-like room. Roman strode to the sliding metal doors on the far wall and gazed into a retina scanner on the wall. A green light flashed. Metal locks clicked. Sliding doors parted, revealing an observation deck.
“Come in.” He beckoned me with a twitch of his fingers.
“Fuck me,” I whispered. We stood in front of a glass wall overlooking a state-of-the-art command center. Below us, people milled between rows of computer monitors. Large flat-screen TVs covered the farthest wall, displaying satellite images. My heart began to clang against my ribs. “What—what is this?”
“This is my war team. They facilitate the movement of arms between countries. They coordinate the transfers, track the shipments, and cover our tracks when necessary.” His harsh, exhaled breath made me flinch. With his chin lifted and shoulders thrown back, he surveyed the chaos on the floor.
“You operate out of a Manhattan luxury condominium building?” My voice came out too high and thin. I cleared my throat.
“Why not? I own the building.” He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. Excitement hummed through his touch. “It’s easy enough to cover up our comings and goings through the service entrances. Some o
f these people live here. They know how to blend.”
My mind struggled to wrap around the tableau in front of me. I scanned the workers, looking for familiar faces. “It’s like something out of a movie.”
“But not nearly as glamorous, I can assure you.”
“Are the weapons here?” I pointed to the polished concrete floor.
“No. They’re stashed in warehouses across the country. I like to keep my assets spread as far apart as possible.” He turned to face me, staring down into my eyes, his expression unreadable. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m not sure.” Seeing the operation in action brought the situation home. If I hadn’t believed it before, I believed it now. This was real. Roman had an entire secret life, one I’d never dreamed possible.
* * *
After a brief tour, we returned to the penthouse. While Roman showered, I paced our bedroom in anxiety-driven exhaustion. On the balcony, I contemplated our future and drank in the Manhattan skyline. A distant flash of lightning streaked across the black sky. I trembled as the wind picked up.
“You’d better come inside. It looks like a storm is blowing in.” Roman’s deep voice rumbled near my ear. A shiver raced down my back and settled deep inside my core. The simple sound of his voice made my heart skip a beat.
“Yes.” Tiny raindrops plinked against the glass railing and splattered on my skin.
“What’s going on inside that pretty head of yours?”
When I turned, he was right behind me. A snowy towel hugged his narrow waist, the edges clutched in one fist. Droplets of water fell from the ends of his rumpled hair and slid over his muscular chest. “Nothing.” I bit my lower lip to suppress a gasp of surprise at his nearness.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He rubbed a hand over his bare chest and the smattering of curly black hair covering his sternum.
“You need a shave and a haircut,” I said, moving away from him, putting distance between us. My fingers curled, itching with the need to rake his black locks away from his forehead. His appearance reminded me of the night I’d met him at the Masquerade de Marquis: dark, dangerous, and brimming with mystery.
The Exiled Prince Trilogy Page 41