Chapter Fourteen
Tatyana sat in her gilded cage while Hannah bustled around the room cleaning imaginary dust from the immaculately maintained quarters. The book she held in her hand was a prop to allow her to escape the matronly woman's cheery banter. It had taken all of thirty seconds to memorize the list David had recited to her at breakfast this morning. He'd explained he wouldn't be able to stay or have lunch or dinner with her today. More than once the thought that she'd screwed up by opening up to him raced through her mind. Death while working for the Bravata was a constant threat, but the reality that she may have miss-stepped escalated her fear level.
"I'll make time to escort you tonight so the Bravata may make contact." His words this morning gave her a serious reason to pause. Although his charming veneer didn't slip, she wondered if last night was some type of conquest for him. Perhaps she'd be relegated to a convenient fuck, or maybe he was done with her? A shiver ghosted across her skin. Maybe he was contacting the Bravata and informing them of her admission. But how? She was his point of contact. No, he'd known how to reach out to them when she was tapped on the shoulder to meet with him, didn't he?
The constant back and forth of her mind's deliberations forced her out of the room earlier. He'd given her leave to ramble about the chalet, which she did at length this morning ending up back at the massive library on the ground floor. She'd brought several books back to her rooms to fill the long, drawn-out minutes of the day.
"It is a shame about the explosions isn't it?" Hannah trudged through the sitting area with her hands full of new towels.
"Explosions? I'm sorry, what?" Taty put the book down and followed Hannah into the ensuite.
"Have you seen the news?"
Taty shook her head.
"Well, I dinna know that. Those radicals in the Middle East, they blew up a whole town in retaliation for something. Who knows what this time? But the pictures coming out of the region? They break my heart. Little ones hurt and the parents unable to help. Young lives being torn apart. The master is working hard to send humanitarian aid. He was up at three this morning, right after it happened. The mister said he missed his gym time and has been working non-stop, except for the quick breakfast he had with you this morning.
"He's sending humanitarian aid?" Why would missing his gym time be so damn important?
"What? Of course. Omega International is his. He has so many companies, and most of them have the la-de-da big wigs running them, and they report to him, you understand? Omega is more… I dinna know, personal, I guess. The man has a heart for service the size of which I've never seen."
"He has a big heart?"
"Absolutely. The man wouldn't be rude to a cockroach if it ate his last sandwich. I've never worked for such a selfless person." Hannah glanced over her shoulder. "Do you want me to run you a bath? The master might not be down for dinner, but I've been instructed to have it served in his quarters again."
Tatyana smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Hannah."
The woman beamed from ear to ear. "Och, 'tis my pleasure, Miss Taty. You give me something to do!"
Tatyana wandered back to the sitting area. Her gut was right. She knew it was. There was nothing about David Xavier that added up to his buying innocent lives. She'd find a way through the armor he'd surrounded himself with and ensure she was included at that meeting with the Bravata. She'd hate to use him to get to the head of the serpent, but there was no other way.
Taty closed her eyes while she listened to Hannah moving around the bathroom and wondered what her handlers back in London were thinking. She'd never gone more than two days without dropping a line in the shadow email account set up to communicate. Regardless, MI6 would have to deal with the ramifications of David Xavier finding his way into her undercover operation. To stop the scum she worked with, she'd sold her soul. A black hole had been carved deep in the center of her chest by her actions while employed by Bravata organization. That hole could only be filled by one thing. Revenge. She was the Bravata's exclusive concierge for the ultimate illicit fantasy for the fanatically wealthy. The Bravata trusted her—to a point.
She'd been undercover for eight years and worked for the Bravata for five. She'd worked her way up the ranks. Tatyana knew everyone in the organization except the key players. Her handler at MI6 wanted the bastard at the top. The boss. She'd yet to meet him, but the day she did, she was going to take him down. She'd fantasized about killing him. It didn't matter if she'd die or spend the rest of her life in jail. The scum who did this to people? He didn't deserve to breathe, and Tatyana wished it was her destiny to make sure he went straight to the special place in hell reserved just for him. She'd sworn on her sister's life that she'd make them pay. Every. Last. One.
Taty recalled the young ones of her last delivery. Was the cost of bringing the entire system down worth the cost these vulnerable young men and women paid on a daily basis? She tried hard not to cry behind her closed eyelids.Now was not the time to show weakness.
She focused on remembering the smallest details about the people she'd helped sell. Tatyana documented every person she delivered, down to birthmarks, both for the Bravata and for MI6. For MI6, she also provided DNA samples for most of the merchandise. Simply gathering samples of hair or fingernails risked her life. Getting the information to her handlers was even more dangerous. She had no idea if M16 retrieved the information. The communication back to her had always been sparse.
Regardless, she continued to make the drops. She delivered the DNA samples weeks after the transactions to avoid any attention to her actions. She left the evidence at different, prearranged locations, the list of drops meticulously adhered to so her handler knew exactly where to retrieve the information and evidence she'd planted.
She monitored the ghost email account they established for communication religiously. Simple and effective, they both logged in under the same username and password, wrote draft emails and left them for the other to read and delete. They constructed messages in practically untraceable code.
Tatyana was close. So damn close. Soon, she'd sever the snake's head and blow open the operation. She didn't know if her agency had rescued any of the people she delivered, but she hoped so. Hope. What a joke. Unless she succeeded, the "cargo" she delivered had none. Regardless, she would stay the course, and she would reach the top of the organization.
She'd been working for eight lonely, miserable years to get to this point. Originally, she'd approached MI6 with the information she'd gleaned from the massive kidnapping that almost decimated her small country village. She'd returned there from university when her baby sister and at least ten other girls had been abducted. Her advanced degree in linguistics and fluid accent made it easy for her to blend in and follow the kidnapper's trail. She couldn't approach the FSB, the Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation. It was fraught with corruption. MI6 was her only hope. Initially, they'd refused to listen or to look at her information, but she'd persisted. After an extensive background check and training, M16 assigned her as an undercover operation.
Her mission was to integrate into the organization and make herself indispensable. Her only objective was to reach the head of the organization and have enough evidence to convict the son of a bitch in international court. She was the singular tool to take the head off the snake. She'd documented the countless underlings, the arms of the beast which included methods, covers, money laundering, acquisitions, holding and training of the merchandise. While she worked, the serpent grew in reach and strength. The operation was now global and vastly lucrative.
David Xavier was an unknown. She needed to ensure the man had reason to keep her around and if that meant using sex as a lure, then she'd bait the hook. She must be included in the meeting, and David Xavier was the key. With a course of action solidified, she found a new resolve to do what needed to be done—seduce Davi
d Xavier into trusting her and finish her mission.
Taty carried the dinner she'd whipped up precariously in one hand and knocked on the door to David's office with the other. A muffled response called her in. The guard who had escorted her from the well-guarded entrance of this private wing opened the door for her. She waited for David to look up. His suit jacket was off, his tie loosened and his crisp white shirt was wrinkled. His sleeves were folded haphazardly up his forearms. It looked as if he'd been carding his fingers through his hair. He gave her a sideways glance and did a double take.
"What are you doing here?" His brow creased as he looked past her to the outer offices. The guard stood behind her. David motioned for him to leave. Thankfully.
"It is almost eleven. Your staff has gone for the night. You didn't come down for dinner. I found the kitchen again and made you something to eat." She entered his office and set the tray at a conversation group near the door. She didn't want to give him any reason to think she was there to spy on him.
When he hadn't come down for dinner or shown up after, she'd groused around in the chalet's massive refrigerator and mixed together another of her mother's favorite recipes, mashed potato pancakes stuffed with meat and cheese and fried. She also brought two of the beers he'd chosen last night. Glancing up from the small table she caught his questioning gaze. "What?"
"Why?" His one-word reply held no indication of irritation, so she answered honestly.
"Because you've spent your day making sure people got the help they so desperately needed. I thought it was only fair someone took care of you." She popped the top off both beers and settled back into the chair.
"I employ people to cook for me. You are not required to do so." He swiveled in his chair and gave her his full attention.
She shrugged. "I know. What can I say? You are the only reason I'm here. Your guards escorted me out to await the call from my employers. I made sure they heard the entire fifteen-second interaction. I gave the Bravata the order and told them to call tomorrow night at 7:00 just as your guard instructed." She nodded toward the food on the tray. "Now be a good little billionaire and come eat your food."
He lifted away from the desk and stretched drawing her eyes to the impressive form under the clothing. The sharp angles of his face and dark features were drawn. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, he hadn't had much sleep. He made his way over to the conversation group and flopped into the huge bat-winged leather chair.
Closer, she could see lines around the corners of his mouth and noticeable tension in his shoulders. "Were you able to get aid to the victims?"
His head snapped up at her words.
She answered the question he spoke with his eyes. "Hannah."
"Ah." He reached for the beer and leaned back once again. His focus on the colored glass seemed reflective, so she patiently waited for him to speak. "The organization does a great deal of good when we can. Some areas are harder to reach than others. Navigating the political quagmire and bribes needed to gain access to the area the victims are in has been… trying."
Her stomach sank for the innocent lives caught in the crossfire of the political and religious posturing. "So, no relief has gotten to the victims?"
His shoulders slumped accompanied by the slow shake of his head. He lifted haunted eyes. "An embedded journalist from the U.K. managed to get word out. The people who have survived are being hunted down. Our resources are at the border. While we wait for the political pressure and bribes to smooth the way, children are dying." He put the untouched beer down and sank back into the chair.
Taty was on her knees at his side before she realized she'd moved. Her hand touched his thigh. The muscle jumped under her hand. "It isn't your fault. You are doing everything you can."
He opened his eyes and gazed down at her. His hand pushed her curls out of her eyes. "Thank you. Sometimes it's hard…" His words trailed off. She leaned into his touch. His thumb grazed over her cheekbone.
"You are doing a good thing, David Xavier." If she hadn't been studying his face while she spoke, she would have missed the small flinch at her statement. The comment bothered him. Why?
Taty lifted onto her knees and slid her hand behind his neck, pulling him closer. She placed a soft kiss on to his lips before she moved away. "You should eat. Then you need some sleep."
David drew a deep breath and leaned away from her. He glanced at the covered dish and lifted his eyes. "What did you make?"
"Stuffed potato pancakes. There was ham and roast beef. I added Swiss to the ham and a soft white cheese to the roast beef, I'm not sure what it was, but the combination was pleasant." She stood and lifted several silver domes revealing the pancakes and a fresh chopped salad.
He motioned toward the food. "Will you join me?"
She shook her head. "I ate dinner. Plus, I sampled as I cooked." A startling thought crossed her mind. "Oh! Serve me any portion. I swear I did not taint the food."
David's eyes slowly raised. "I didn't think for a moment you had. I was offering out of politesse."
"Oh." She moved to the farthest chair and curled into the cushions. He spread a napkin over his thigh. His knife and fork divided a pancake. He lifted a bite and sampled it. His eyebrows lifted and a smile tugged at his mouth. "You may cook for me anytime. Once again, the food is delicious."
She thanked him and watched as he began, with immaculate precision, to devour the food she'd prepared.
"What did you do today?" He asked as he reached for the beer. Taty thought about bringing a glass for him to pour it into, but he'd drank it out of the bottle last night. He lifted it to his lips waiting for an answer.
"Hmm? Oh, almost nothing. I wandered the chalet for a time this morning. I found the library again and selected a couple of books to read. Hannah and I visited for a moment while she was doing her chores. After dinner, I waited for your escort. When you sent the guard, I went outside and made the call. Then I returned to your room and waited. When you didn't come back by ten, I went looking for the kitchen. I knew the way to your offices because of the guards posted in the hallway. I asked them to bring me to you."
"I appreciate the thought behind the gesture, and I appreciate the food. I probably wouldn't have eaten if you hadn't brought it to me." He put his empty plate on the table and grabbed the second beer.
Taty watched him closely. His gaze roamed the room and found their way back to her. She moved her hand over her arm, and his eyes tracked her movement. She lifted her hand to her face and licked her lips. His eyes followed her tongue. Desire wrote itself across his expression.
She stood and slowly walked to him, sinking to her knees between his legs. Her hands lightly traveled from his knees to his thighs. Maybe, she was hungry after all. The dense muscle under the soft fabric clenched at her touch. She unclasped his belt and lowered the zipper of his slacks. He lifted when she tugged the material and the fabric shifted down out of her way. She traced his growing erection through the body-warmed material of his silk boxers. His cock hardened under her touch. She glanced into his heavily hooded eyes and offered him a shy smile. Her hand snaked in and pulled his cock out. She cupped him and pushed the foreskin down with one hand. A manicured fingernail smeared a small drop of pre-come over the head and down the underside of his shaft. The soft skin surrounding the hard core of his cock felt like warm velvet in her hand.
She lowered slowly and carefully licked the exposed head. She spoke to him but didn't lift her eyes. "I love your taste." His cock jumped in her hand and pushed out another glistening drop of arousal. Her hand lifted the foreskin pushing it back up as her tongue delved into the folds around his cockhead. A low rumbling groan fell from above her. She glanced up to see his head pushed into the back of the chair. His hands gripped the arms of the chair, white at the knuckles. Taty worked his foreskin and shaft with her mouth and reached out to his hands, prying them
off the furniture, placing them on the side of her head. She worked his length while his hands held her head gently.
She popped off him and dipped down, licking a stripe under the thick underside of his cock. "Use me. Let me help you feel better." Her eyes locked with his seconds before she took as much of him down her throat as she could. She held there and waited. David's fingers carded through her hair. Slowly he pulled her off. She took a deep breath and reveled in the feeling of his hands pushing her down again. It thrilled her to have him take control of his pleasure. His direction released her from the worry of not doing what he wanted. She moaned and worked her tongue as he lifted her head again. He wrapped her hair around his fingers and took control. Taty lost herself in the sensation. She worshiped his cock, working her mouth, lips and tongue to give him the most pleasure. His thighs shook under her hands. She used her bottom teeth to gently tease his shaft on her way up. He stopped her advance and pushed her back down as his hips lifted. His cock head sank into her throat. She held even though every survival instinct she had demanded she breathe. His strangled gasp and thrust sent his seed down her throat. He pulled out, allowing her to relieve her lungs as another rope of come filled her mouth. She sucked and licked until he collapsed back in the chair and pulled her away. He tugged her up into his lap. She laughed softly. She'd truly enjoyed making him come.
Chief (Kings of Guardian Book 7) (The Kings of Guardian) Page 10