Biker Outlaw's Princess: An MC Romance

by Bella Rose

  It happened before Mikhail could blink. Luka was there one second and gone the next. Beside him, Susanna gasped and tried to grab Luka. But he quickly sprinted away.

  “Catch him!” Ivan shouted.

  Mikhail turned to give chase, but Aleksei chose that moment to pull into the alley. Luka screamed, lifting his hands in a futile attempt at defense as the grill of the van connected with his face. The soft crunch of bone and whisper of mangled tissue filled the alley. Luka’s body was lifted off the ground. It arced up and away from the front of the van. Ivan, Susanna, and Mikhail leaped back as Luka soared past them to land in a crumpled heap nearly fifteen feet away.

  Aleksei leaped out of the van, leaving the door hanging open. “Shit! Where did he come from?”

  “He bolted for the mouth of the alley.” Mikhail felt shocked and horrified, but there was also a sense of relief.

  Susanna went into federal agent mode. “Check his pulse.”

  Aleksei ran to kneel beside Luka. “Oh, he’s dead. And he’s barely recognizable.”

  Mikhail exhaled, not even realizing until that moment that he’d been holding his breath. “Okay, so here’s what we do.” He looked at Susanna. “Can you call in an anonymous report than an FBI informant has been run down outside his apartment?”

  “Yes, no problem.” She gave a decisive nod.

  Mikhail couldn’t stop staring at the body. “All right. So we call him in and leave the van. They’re obviously going to suspect the Bratva because he was turning evidence against us. But they have no evidence.”

  “The van is disposable,”Aleksei assured him. “We were going to sink it into the harbor with him inside anyway.”

  Susanna rolled her eyes. “Ugh! You’re not supposed to tell me stuff like that. It puts me in such an awkward spot.”

  “It wouldn’t matter if you would just quit.” Aleksei looked on the verge of pouting.

  Susanna gestured to Mikhail. “See what I mean?”

  “I do.” Mikhail grimaced. “Which is why I’m out.”

  “What?” Ivan and Aleksei both turned to stare. Ivan seemed to recover first. “You’re telling us this over a dead body, Mikhail?”

  “Without Luka’s testimony, there is no evidence for an arrest warrant. Correct?” Mikhail raised his brows at his youngest brother.

  “Well yes, but still,” Ivan hedged. “Think about this, Mikhail. You cannot turn your back on the family.”

  “The family”—Mikhail used air quotes to make his point—“is a multibillion-dollar enterprise spanning three continents. I hardly think anyone will care as long as profits don’t suffer.”

  “What are you going to do?” Aleksei wondered out loud. “Going straight? How boring. You’ll be broke in a week!”

  Mikhail sighed. “You cannot possibly believe that nonsense.”

  “Mikhail is a billionaire in his own right,” Ivan said quietly. “Papa always used to say that Mikhail was the one with the head for business.”

  “You’re a billionaire?” Susanna said with interest. “Damn. I picked the wrong brother.”

  “Hey!” Aleksei said indignantly. “I’m rich too.”

  Susanna rolled her eyes. “You are also obtuse.”

  “That will never change,” Mikhail warned her. “Although Aleksei is fiercely loyal to the Bratva, and will make a stellar leader after I am gone.”

  Aleksei pursed his lips. “Is that what you truly wish?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then can we get moving before someone else spots this body?” Ivan suggested.

  The four of them strolled out the far end of the alley. Mikhail led the way, hugging the shadows until they reached a park. Aleksei grabbed Susanna’s hand and she didn’t pull away. Instead she curled into his side and let him put his arm around her.

  “I love this part,” Aleksei said with a sigh.

  She jabbed him in the side. “As long as you know we’re only canoodling because it’s a good cover.”

  “Canoodling,” Ivan snorted. “What sort of American euphemism is this?”

  Mikhail switched back to Russian. “It’s the part that happens before she cuts off his balls and shoves them down his throat.”

  Aleksei snarled something uncomplimentary over his shoulder before the two groups split up. Mikhail followed Ivan’s lead back to the generic car they’d left on the opposite side of the park.

  “Are you really sure this is what you want?” Ivan asked once they were well away from Aleksei. He still spoke in Russian.

  “Da.” Mikhail wondered how to make him understand.

  “This is because of Blair,” Ivan guessed bitterly. “What sort of woman can make a man turn his back on everything he knows?”

  “Is that what you think?” Mikhail was surprised. “I intend to build a chain of luxury hotels all over the world. How is this turning my back on what I know?”

  “I suppose I cannot argue against that, can I?” Ivan sighed. “Blair seems like a good enough woman. But I hope you realize that Aleksei and I will happily gut her if she breaks your heart.”

  Mikhail put his hand over his chest. “I’m surprised you believe I have one.”

  “You were always different than the rest of us, deep down.” Ivan’s dark gaze was disconcerting. Mikhail was uncertain what he saw there.

  Mikhail held out his hand to his brother. “I’m not dying, you know.”

  “Yes. But walking away from the Bratva is not a simple choice to make, brother.”

  Mikhail knew this. “I shall send a message to the council informing them of my decision.”

  “Be careful,” Ivan advised.

  And that was when Mikhail realized that he would not be sharing the car with his brother. He had chosen to go his own path, and that moment would begin now.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Girl!” Ethan gushed. “You are a sight for sore eyes. Come on in here and sit down. I want to hear every single detail. Don’t leave anything out!”

  It had taken Blair two weeks before she had been released by the authorities and allowed to resume her “normal” life. Now she crashed on Ethan’s cozy couch with a fuzzy throw and a cup of sweet-smelling coffee. It felt good to be home.

  Ethan curled up in his favorite chair with a cup in hand and an eager expression on his face. “Okay. Now tell me about this debriefing thing. What was that about? I kept trying to get ahold of you and they kept telling me that you would contact me when you were able.”

  “Did Skye Aviation reinstate you?” Blair asked hesitantly.

  Ethan rolled his eyes. “Of course. It’s back to same old, same old.”

  “They’ve fired me.”

  “What?” Ethan shrieked. “Oh my God! Why?”

  She shrugged it off. “First of all, I broke the company rules. I violated policy, broke protocol, and let a terrorist take control of my plane.” She waved her hand. “Pretty much what I expected, to tell the truth.”

  “Still…” Ethan’s tone returned to the normal zone. He reached out and patted her leg. “You loved your job. Can you get another one after being let go under those circumstances?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I haven’t really tried.”

  “We need to get you on one of those talk shows. You know?” Ethan perked right up at this notion. “We can get a daytime talk show host to shame Skye Aviation into giving you your job back!”

  “Ethan, I really don’t think that’s going to work.” She sighed. “And I’ve had to sublet my apartment since I can’t pay the rent.”

  “Oh bother,” Ethan muttered. “You can just move in here with me.”

  “Thanks.” She offered him a tired smile. “I just might take you up on that.”

  “So what about Mikhail Romanov?” Ethan asked expectantly. “The two of you had quite the chemical reaction from what I could see.”

  “Yeah and that’s pretty much what got me in trouble,” she moaned. “I was so stupid, Ethan!”

  “How so?” He frowned and
resettled his legs in his chair. “You fell in love with the man, Blair. It’s a little Stockholm Syndrome-ish, but I can understand why you would.”

  “Understanding it doesn’t mean a hill of beans when I’m back here in Chicago jobless and pretty much eating my heart out.” She sipped her coffee and wondered what the typical lifespan of a broken heart really was.

  ***

  “Mr. Romanov, here are those plans you asked for.”

  Mikhail held out his hand and his administrative assistant placed the rolled-up architectural drawings right on his palm. “Thank you, Cassidy.”

  “No problem.” Her voice sounded a bit brittle. “If you don’t need anything else, Mr. Romanov, I think I’ll go home for the day.”

  “Ah, I’m sorry.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s after six, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  Mikhail offered her what was probably a distracted smile. “I’m sure you have a family or friends to get back to.”

  “Sure.” She gave a little snort and left his office.

  Mikhail would have had to be an idiot not to see that she was attracted to him. Unfortunately for Cassidy, that didn’t matter. First, he never dated women who worked for him. Second, he was never going to date anyone who was not Blair Edwards ever again.

  He walked to the windows overlooking Chicago’s Magnificent Mile. His first order of business had been to purchase an old hotel and begin renovations. For now, his base of operations was in the hotel. It killed him to think that Blair was likely only a few miles away and yet had no idea he was here. She hadn’t even attempted to search for him. He knew this because he was having Susanna Martinez keep an eye on her for him.

  Mikhail ground his teeth in agitation as he recalled again that she had been fired from her job as a pilot because of him. He had cost her everything. Yet he wanted to give her the world if she would only let him. He turned and walked back to the table in the center of his office. He spread out the plans for his first hotel and tried to turn his mind to work.

  His foreman knocked briefly before entering the office and getting right to the point. “I’m not sure we can finish by your deadline, Mr. Romanov.”

  “Oh?”

  “To say that we are going to rehab this place in only six weeks is an astronomical undertaking,” the foreman insisted.

  Mikhail raised an eyebrow. “One that is costing me a fortune.”

  “Yes. We could cut costs if we didn’t pay a night construction crew. That’s considered overtime.” The foreman looked uncomfortable. “Besides, this day and night schedule is creating quite a stir around town.”

  “That,” Mikhail said firmly, “is a good thing. A stir means that people will want to visit, want to stay, to shop, to dine, and to drink in the bar.”

  The foreman sighed. “I cannot change your mind about this?”

  “No.” Mikhail was resolute on this subject. “The Blair will be done in six weeks. I want a grand opening. I want the whole damn city to be here.”

  Something in Mikhail’s voice must have tipped the man off. He cocked his head to one side, the corner of his mouth kicking up in a grin. “This is about a woman. Isn’t it?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  The foreman gave a determined nod. “We’ll be done in six weeks, Mr. Romanov. God knows women make fools of us all at one time or another.”

  ***

  Six Weeks Later

  Blair flipped the channel on Ethan’s television, surfing daytime TV the same way she had been every day for weeks. Her hair was a rat’s nest and she was pretty sure she had a rug growing on her legs.

  Suddenly Ethan came bustling in. He shoved her legs aside and sat down. Then he snatched the remote from her hand and changed the channel. “You have to see this,” he gushed.

  “Why?”

  Ethan seemed to see her for the first time. “Oh, honey, you’ve got to do something. You’re a mess! I think you look worse than when I left two days ago on this last flight.”

  “Thanks, friend.” Blair was not amused. “I’m just going through a rough patch.”

  Ethan made a snarky comment beneath his breath and turned up the TV. “Look, will you?”

  The midday news anchor was standing in front of a beautiful old building down in the Magnificent Mile. “We’re here today at the grand reopening of one of the city’s oldest hotels. The Grand has been part of Chicago history since the early days, but it never looked like this!” The camera zoomed out to show the audience an incredible shot of the restored façade. “Newly renamed, The Blair, a night at this hotel is now considered one of the most luxurious experiences to be had in the city!”

  “Did you hear that?” Ethan hollered. “The Blair! It’s called The Blair and it is owned by some weird Russian dude. I checked.”

  “Coincidence,” she said weakly. “There is no way he’s been here in Chicago long enough to renovate a whole hotel. That takes years.”

  The news anchor wasn’t finished. “The most amazing part of this story is the fact that this hotel was completely renovated—and I do mean overhauled—in only six weeks!”

  “Ha!” Ethan crowed. “I told you. It’s Mikhail!”

  “So what?” Blair actually felt whiney. “Look at me. What am I supposed to do? Show up looking like yesterday’s leftovers and go, ‘Okay, Mikhail, I know I’m ugly as sin now, but let’s get it on’?”

  “Your attitude sucks,” Ethan growled. “And I am not letting you screw this up.”

  Four hours later she had been plucked, waxed, buffed, coiffed, and shoved into a pair of designer jeans and a blouse that flattered her pale coloring. Ethan had not been kidding. He hired a cab for the two of them and literally dumped her on the curb in front of The Blair Hotel.

  “Ethan.” She actually felt panicked. “I can’t just walk in there and tell them I’m Blair, now we can start the party.” She tried to shove her way back into the cab.

  Ethan pushed her back. “You absolutely can!” He signaled the driver to get moving. “Have fun and call me in the morning!”

  Blair swallowed nervously and took a deep breath. She had landed a plane in a freaking field in the dark. Surely she could walk into one puny hotel. Except that once she pushed open the doors her mouth fell wide open at the opulence contained within.

  “Oh yeah, this is so Mikhail,” she whispered.

  She turned in a slow circle before finally catching sight of the desk. There were people everywhere. They mingled by the lounge, sat in the conversation areas, sipped cocktails, and stood at the counter trying to get a room in what was obviously an overbooked hotel.

  Finally it was Blair’s turn to approach the counter. She cleared her throat and tried not to feel so ridiculous. “Hi. My name is Blair Edwards. I wanted to know if I might be able to meet with Mikhail Romanov.”

  The clerk actually snorted. “Mr. Romanov is a very busy man.”

  “I’m aware.” Blair didn’t bother to check her attitude. “I suggest you tell him that Blair Edwards is here and see what he says.”

  The woman pursed her lips and then picked up the phone. “Hi, Cassidy? Yes we have a guest who wants an appointment with Mr. Romanov.” There was a pause. “Um-hmm, yes. Yes. I figured. Excuse me? Oh her name is Blair Edwards.”

  Despite her nerves and everything else, Blair had the utter satisfaction of watching the blood drain out of the clerk’s face. Blair smiled. Apparently Ethan had been right. Mikhail hadn’t forgotten her at all.

  ***

  Mikhail was practically sprinting down the hallway to the elevator. He had never paid attention before to how slow the damn thing was, but the wait to the lobby level seemed interminable. He had been waiting nearly six and a half weeks. Surely he could wait another ten minutes.

  The doors finally opened and he rushed through before decorum finally hit him. He couldn’t go dashing into the foyer of his hotel like some schoolboy in the throes of a teenaged infatuation. He needed to play it cool at first.

  Then he saw
her. She was facing away from him, sitting on the edge of the fountain he had personally chosen to grace the center of the hotel. The stone water maiden had a wistful air that had reminded him of Blair. Now he could not be more glad that he chosen the piece.

  It was as though she sensed his regard. She turned and stood up. Her expression brightened, but he could see the hesitation in her body language. Mikhail did not want this between them. He had made the choice to love Blair and lead an honest life of paying taxes.

  “Blair,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you.”

  It was as if his words unlocked something within her. Tears formed in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She came forward, slowly at first, and then faster until she was all but running. She hit him with force and buried her face against his chest. Mikhail wrapped his arms around her and felt whole for the first time since she had walked away in Moscow.

  “This hotel,” she whispered, gazing up at him. “This is yours and only yours?”

  “No.” Then he saw her face fall and tried to clarify. “This is ours and only ours.”

  “Mikhail?”

  “Do you understand what this means?” he asked. “I want you to be with me. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine. Can you do that?”

  “I’ve been yours since the moment you stepped foot on my plane,” she admitted. “I’ve been adrift ever since I left you in Moscow. And now I feel like I’ve come home.”

  He motioned to the hotel. “Come on then, shall I show you around?”

  “Are we checking out rooms?” she teased. “Because I might feel the need to test a bed.”

  Lowering his mouth to hers, Mikhail took her lips in a passionate kiss that sent a shot of pure adrenaline through every nerve in his body. This was where he belonged. This woman owned him, body and soul, and he never wanted that to change.

  THE END

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