by Jasmin Quinn
Olivia nodded, still looking around. “My mother always says, even if you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, act like you do. If you act like the world should bend to you, it will.”
Marisol giggled and straightened her shoulders a little bit. “Your mom actually says fuck?”
Olivia chuckled. “It was the first fucking thing I heard her say when I shot out of her vagina. So yep, she says it a lot.”
“Let’s go,” Anto said, grim and serious all of a sudden, stepping between the two women and moving Mari forward by the arm. Hugo crushed Olivia’s hand in his grip and they followed, making their way through the lobby of the Rosewood.
The Rosewood Georgia Hotel was spectacular, a throwback to the early 1900s, beautifully appointed, nothing like Olivia had ever seen in Vegas. Anto led them to the Spanish Ballroom, which was full of people, standing around with drinks in their hands, talking to each other. Olivia was born and raised in Vegas so she’d been exposed to all sorts of events, but this one seemed to stand heads and tails above the Vegas ones, mostly because it was contained and reserved. There had to be over 200 people in the room milling around, holding drinks, talking to each other in low, quiet voices. There was some jazz playing in the background that could actually be heard above the talking. Olivia couldn’t help but gawk and be impressed.
Anto led the way to a corner with a tall table, for leaning on Olivia guessed since there were no chairs around it. Then he relinquished his hold on Mari. To Hugo, he said. “Let’s get some drinks.” To Mari and Olivia, he said, “Be right back.”
To Olivia, Hugo said, “Behave yourself.”
As soon as they were gone, Olivia leaned into Mari. “So what do you know about what’s going on?”
Mari considered her, seeming to choose her words carefully. “I guess Hugo is supposed to keep some Japanese guy from connecting with Randall Scott.”
Olivia frowned. “That’s all I know too, except I don’t know Randall Scott.” She craned her neck, looking around as if she could spot the man she’d never laid eyes on. She caught the eye of a handsome, serious-looking man walking towards them.
“Someone’s coming our way,” Olivia muttered to Mari, who followed her gaze. Mari’s upturned lips turned up a little more as the man stepped up to them.
His eyes stroked Olivia curiously before turning to Mari. “Marisol, you look beautiful.” He took her hand in his and brushed his lips across the back of it.
Olivia watched as Mari’s face brightened and her eyes softened toward the man. He was good enough looking, tall, dark, but with an intimidating presence. An accent too. Maybe Hugo’s age, maybe a little older. In spite of the shift in Mari’s demeanor, Olivia didn’t think Red had a thing for the guy. It was more like respect and affection. Olivia could understand the respect part for sure. The man exuded power, demanded deference just by the way he held himself. She knew without anyone saying so that she didn’t want to land on his wrong side. Charm probably didn’t work on him. They both turned to Olivia, Mari making the introductions.
“Rusya, this is Olivia West. She’s Hugo Marsden’s… uh…”
Olivia held out her hand. “Friend.” Fiancé was too new, too intimate, too soon to be sharing with strangers, especially this dark one. Olivia smiled gracefully as Rusya took her hand and kissed the back of it like he had with Mari’s. But his eyes were as inscrutable as the expression on his face.
“Rusya Savisin,” he said and his accent flitted through her, making her suddenly self-conscious. Maybe she could fool others, but she knew she couldn’t fool this man. He would know she didn’t belong. “It’s lovely to meet you, Olivia.”
“You too,” she murmured feeling at a sudden loss for words as she took her hand back.
Then Hugo and Anto were back and Olivia was inexplicably relieved. “Rusya,” Hugo said, smiling broadly and shaking the man’s hand enthusiastically. “Good to see you. Thanks for the invite to the shindig.” Olivia had to suppress a small smile. Hugo seemed like he was being deliberately provocative.
Anto’s grin also lacked subtlety as he looked at Rusya with the same affection Mari had. This man meant something to them. It made Olivia’s heart ache a little bit, because there was a sense of belonging that she’d never really had before. It was like she’d found something she didn’t know she needed until someone showed it to her. Now she wanted it bad.
Rusya threw Hugo a slight smile. “It’s always nice to have you back in Vancouver. Will you be staying long?” So formal, almost uncomfortable with the small talk.
“Just long enough to finish a bit of business, then we’ll be on our way.” He reached a hand behind Olivia’s back, gripped her by the waist and pulled her into him. Possessive. Protective. Uncomfortable suddenly.
Rusya nodded and his eyes settled on Olivia and Mari. “I wonder if I may have a word with the gentlemen? Would you please excuse us for a few minutes, ladies?” So precise, so elegant, so fucking lethal, Olivia thought as a shiver raced through her all the way to her nipples.
As the men walked away, Olivia let out a breath. To Mari, she said, “How many men has he sent to their deaths?”
Mari shivered like Olivia had. “It’s better not to think of things like that.”
Ah, sisterhood. At least they were on the same page where Rusya Savisin was concerned. “Yep. I get that.” Olivia’s mom always said that the perfect man didn’t exist. The only thing you could do was compartmentalize. Put the untidy little bits into a box and keep it under the bed or in the back of the closet. She was right. Even Hugo, who was perfect most of the time, had a dark side. Olivia was pretty sure she didn’t want to look too deeply into the back of his closet.
Mari’s eyes settled on another man. Older, still handsome with salt and pepper grey hair. In his 50s or 60s.
“Who’s that?”
“That is Randall Scott, good upstanding citizen.” But Mari said it with an ironic twist to her tone which told Olivia he was anything but. “He’s the guy whose meeting Rusya wants Hugo to prevent.”
“Ahh, I see,” Olivia said with a small nod. But she didn’t see at all. Not yet.
CHAPTER 32
Marisol hated these social events. If she had a top-10 list of things she despised most, functions like these would be right up at the top next to her Sunday family dinners. Still, she was a little glad that Anto had insisted she join him. Actually, he’d done it in a way that told her she couldn’t refuse, but Anto didn’t put her in the line of fire, not since she was kidnapped (by him no less), shot at and almost choked to death. He must have decided this one would be safe even if something was about to go down. He and Hugo seemed to be avoiding her and Olivia, so she thought perhaps it was deliberate.
She looked over at her tall, curvy companion as she took a sip of her champagne. She used to rarely drink, didn’t think it was good for her health, but Anto had taught her that health was a relative notion, and that alcohol sometimes helped preserve mental health. He also said that it sometimes made the fucking more interesting. He wasn’t lying.
She kept a discreet eye on Olivia, who was taking everything in. The woman seemed so at ease with herself, with her sexuality, arms leaning on the table, posture upright, but relaxed, the curves in her tight red dress pushing at the edges of respectability. Olivia’s eyes were jumping from person to person, expressive face showing everything she was thinking. The wheels were churning inside her head so visibly Marisol couldn’t help but notice.
Olivia was not a woman Mari ever thought she’d consider for a friend. The blonde seemed to know who she was, how she was perceived and embraced it effortlessly. But Mari did like her, because there was also something disarming about her. Innocent in a way Mari was not, which was ironic when she thought about how much her life had changed since she met Anto. Olivia seemed like a free spirit, flitting along with the tide, but honest and generous with her looks, her words. Mari almost laughed as she thought all this because it seemed ludicrous that she would know this in a sin
gle meeting and yet, she genuinely believed that she did.
The woman had enough presence, attitude and beauty to overshadow any other woman in the room, but she didn’t use it as a weapon, more like a gift. Mari didn’t feel like she was fading in her presence. In fact, just the opposite as Olivia toyed with the stem of her champagne glass and leaned across the table towards Mari. She was talking so softly, Mari had no choice but to lean in as well. Their heads together, sharing confidences, seemingly oblivious to everyone around them.
It gave Mari a thrill because she knew that there were a lot of eyes on them. Curious, but also jealous, because these two well-dressed women didn’t appear to give a fuck about what was going on around them. Which made other people want their attention. Mari smiled inwardly at the irony. A few months ago, she wanted a little attention from men, but had no idea how to get it. Now that she had Anto, she didn’t need it and yet, more and more, she drew people to her. Something changed since Anto. She was changing.
“So if that’s Randall Scott, then who’s he supposed to be meeting with?”
Mari’s eyes roved the room. “Japanese guy, Anto said. Okada or something like that.”
“I think I see him,” Olivia murmured as she craned her neck. “Behind you, but not alone. Has a couple of other guys with him. Not companions, I don’t think. Probably bodyguards. Hugo’s going to have trouble getting up close and personal.”
Mari sidled around the table so she was standing next to Olivia, their arms brushing, bending her head into the blonde’s so it looked like they were exchanging intimacies. “Tall, isn’t he?” she said as her eyes settled on the guy.
“Yes. And looking for someone too.”
The man’s intense gaze flicked across the room, landed on Mari and Olivia, roamed passed, then paused and came back.
Mari flushed and dropped her eyes. Olivia threw a small sultry smile and said to Mari, “You gotta at least look like you’re interested, but not too interested. That’s how you reel them in.”
“We don’t want to reel them in,” Mari retorted under her breath, feeling a small flair of panic in her belly.
“Yeah, we do. Hugo’s not going to get near that fucker with those bodyguards draped around him like fur coats. We’re a way better distraction.”
“Anto said no, Olivia.” Mari kept her voice firm. The last thing she wanted was for Olivia to get her in trouble with Anto.
Olivia glanced at her, then back to the Japanese contingent. “Do you always do what Anto tells you?” It wasn’t accusatory or mocking or anything like that. Just coolly curious.
Mari shrugged, a little embarrassed. “Yes, I guess I do.”
Olivia took a sip of her champagne as she wrapped her fingers around Mari’s hand and gave it a little squeeze. Her gaze was still across the room. “Does he hit you?”
A little bolt of shock sizzled through Mari. Was she giving off that impression? “Good god, no!”
“Oh.” Olivia looked startled as her eyes settled on Mari. “No hitting, beating, yelling?”
Mari shook her head. “Of course not. He’s a bit of a bully when he wants something, but he treats me well.”
“Then why do you always do what he tells you?” She gave Mari’s hand another little squeeze and then picked up her champagne glass and drained the contents.
The question threw Mari off-balance. What a good question it was. Mari was not the bravest person in the world, but she wasn’t immune to taking risks. After all that’s how she and Anto became lovers. Because she tried to seduce him in a river. He’d turned her down, it pissed her off and he’d changed his mind fast enough. Fucked her without mercy. “I don’t know.” She finally said. “Because my mom’s a lawyer, my dad’s the former Chief Constable for the City of Vancouver and I have two brothers who are cops. Pretty much a given that I’m going to have a healthy respect for authority.”
“Parents are one thing, but you can’t give your boyfriend the upper hand all the time. If you always do what he tells you, he’ll get complacent. What woman wants that?”
“Something your mother says?”
Olivia nodded, smiling broadly, not at the Japanese guy, but at one of his bodyguards. The guy’s lips quirked up. “I bet he’s a good fuck.”
“The bodyguard?” Mari tried to school the shock in her voice.
Olivia looked at her, startled. “No, Anto.” Then she returned her gaze to the bodyguard.
Mari felt heat flood her face, didn’t respond. Olivia glanced at her sideways, her lips curving up. “So’s Hugo.” Then she swung herself upright, clutching the champagne glass. “I’m empty. Let’s get some more and take a walk, get a little closer to Okada’s boys. Maybe we can help Hugo out a bit.”
“Like how?”
“Borrow the bodyguards for a few minutes. Enough for Hugo to get close to the guy.”
A little quake of fear darted through Mari. A lot had happened to her this year. She glanced down at the little pucker in her shoulder, her souvenir of one of the worst and best times in her life. The official removal of her rose-coloured glasses. “Seems dangerous. Those guys look like they could seriously kick ass.”
Olivia shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what colour men are or what country they come from. They all have a soft spot, located right between their thighs.”
“Another momism?”
Olivia nodded and rewarded Mari with a Cheshire-cat grin. “Are you in?”
Mari thought it over. Olivia was right. Anto was so strong, so overwhelming. She hardly ever said no to him, hardly ever told him what she wanted unless he insisted. Of course, he knew exactly what she wanted, but maybe it was time to change it up. Well a little anyway. Mari didn’t think she could transform into Olivia overnight. “Okay,” she said, the butterflies in her stomach at war.
CHAPTER 33
Olivia and Marisol were standing at the table one minute and then Hugo got distracted by Anto, bitching about the shitty brand of vodka they were serving. When he looked back, the girls were gone. “Where are they?” he muttered.
Anto followed Hugo’s line of sight. Shrugged. “Bathroom, maybe.”
Hugo had a sense of unease. “You don’t know Olivia.”
“No,” Anto growled. “But I know Marisol. If I tell her to stay put, she’ll stay put.”
Hugo’s eyebrows rose fractionally. “Never yet met a woman who does what she’s told.”
Anto glanced over at Hugo, an uncertain frown creasing his face. Then he twisted his head around. He pointed. “There.”
Hugo followed the direction of Anto’s finger and saw the two women at a different table, head’s together, having a chat. He got distracted for a moment by the beauty of them. Polar opposites, yet both exquisite. Olivia, tall, blonde, curvy with a face full of attitude, next to Marisol, smaller, softer, elegant and shy. Hugo had a sudden understanding of what drew Anto to her. A woman like that would make the coming home part at the end of the day a whole lot more inviting.
Anto drained his glass of vodka, was looking around for a waiter, muttering under his breath about the service. Hugo was still contemplating Marisol when Olivia brought his attention back to her as she looked over to someone and beckoned with a small sexy flip of her head. He couldn’t see who because his view was blocked by some big guy’s bald head. Then one of Okada’s bodyguards came into view, wide smile on his ugly little face, stepping in between the Olivia and Marisol and placing a hand on the small of their backs. Hugo couldn’t actually see where the guy put his hands but it better fucking be on the small of their backs and not their asses.
“Fuck!”
“What?” Anto looked sharply at Hugo.
“Nothing – the vodka, you’re right about the vodka.” Hugo thought the best thing to do was to make sure Anto didn’t see some Japanese asshole with his paws on Marisol. The outcome of that would very likely result in a world of hurt. On the upside, it would probably prevent Scott from meeting Okada; on the downside, it would start a serious war with th
e Yakuza after Anto tore the head off the bodyguard.
Anto scowled as he looked at the glass of beer tucked between Hugo’s fingers. “You’re not drinking vodka.”
“Yeah, because it goes straight through you. Like beer. Gotta piss.” He handed his beer off to Anto and headed in the exact opposite direction of the girls.
Hugo tried to melt into the crowd, but he was just too fucking tall. Height had its advantages for sure but he couldn’t hide from Anto so he had no choice but to keep walking away from the women, ignoring his instincts, which were screaming at him to get across the room, get the girls away from Okada’s bodyguard. As he walked, his eyes travelled over the crush of people, looking for an answer to his problem.
He saw the solution as his gaze landed on the Russian godfather. Rusya was having a quiet conversation with a couple of Italians. Mafiaso by the looks of them. Hugo strolled nonchalantly up to the little group, nodded to the Italians and wrapped his hand around Rusya’s forearm, pulling him out of earshot of the other two men. It was a risk. He knew he could take Savisin, but that wasn’t the danger. That would come later as the Russian was deciding how many pieces to cut Hugo into while he was still breathing.
Savisin let Hugo manhandle him a few feet until they were clear of the Italians. Then Rusya stopped, looked at Hugo’s paw on his arm then to Hugo’s face. “You better have a good reason, Marsden.”
“Yeah, I do. Marisol is being hit on by one of Okada’s bodyguards. Don’t look.”
Savisin looked.
“Fuck, I said don’t look!”
Rusya started forward towards the women and Hugo grabbed his arm again. Rusya stopped, stilled, stared straight ahead and waited. Hugo dropped his hand.
“That’s two strikes.” Rusya’s face was darkening. Hugo knew the Russian godfather had a legendary temper. The rumours were he rarely let it loose, but you never wanted to be in the line of fire when Rusya lost it.
“Anto doesn’t see yet. The minute he does, he’s going to turn into the hulk. I don’t think either of us wants that to happen.”