Russian Mafia Boss's Heir

by Bella Rose

  “Come on,” Jamie said, tugging her arm. “You can have the couch. I’ll get some blankets and a pillow.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Hey, what else are friends for?” Jamie teased. “And it’s not like I have a whole lot to do at three in the morning.”

  “You could work,” Tori suggested. “Since you seem to be opposed to working during daylight hours.”

  “Oh ha, ha.” Jamie looked disgruntled. “You’re hilarious. Someday you’re going to have a job, and I’m going to laugh my ass off when you have to get up and actually go somewhere in the mornings.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Tori murmured. “Sometimes normal is the most attractive thing out there.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Excuse me, Mr. Ivanov?” A female voice drifted through Mikhail’s consciousness. “Oh please wake up, sir. Mikhail!”

  Mikhail sat up, feeling disoriented and confused as hell. He hadn’t gotten home until nearly four in the morning after his jaunt over to Cambridge to see Alexei Vasiliev. He’d been exhausted, and he hadn’t wanted to wake Tori. So he had crashed on the couch in his study. Now his bleary eyes sought the clock and saw that it was only eleven in the morning and for some reason Mrs. O’Connell was in his study trying to wake him up.

  “What?” he grumbled. “I’m dead on my feet here.”

  “I see that, sir.” She was wringing her hands. “But I’m concerned, and I didn’t know who else to go to.”

  “Concerned?”

  “Tori is gone.”

  “What do you mean by gone?” Mikhail’s sluggish brain kicked into action. “She’s not here?”

  “No. I just checked.”

  “You hadn’t checked before now?” he asked, astounded.

  “Well, sir, I didn’t realize you were in here.” Mrs. O’Connell actually blushed. “I don’t generally make it a habit to interrupt the two of you newlyweds, you know. But then I noticed you were sleeping in here. So I went to wake her, but the bed is empty.”

  “Maybe she had a breakfast appointment.” Mikhail was really grasping. Truthfully, if she had made any appointments without letting him know where she was going and with whom, he would still be pissed.

  “No, I don’t think so.” Mrs. O’Connell looked pale with worry. “She and I were supposed to meet to discuss this week’s menu at eleven o’clock, and she’s never late for that.”

  “Menu?” Mikhail raised both brows. “You guys actually meet to talk about that?”

  Now Mrs. O’Connell looked disgruntled. “It isn’t as if the poor thing has anything else to keep her occupied. She’s bored. The menu and housekeeping lists help her feel just a little less useless.”

  “Useless.” He had never actually thought about what Tori did during her days. He had supposed, or perhaps he’d just assumed, that she kept herself busy. Now that Mrs. O’Connell pointed out the obvious, he realized there wasn’t really a whole lot for Tori to do since they didn’t have any children to look after.

  “It isn’t easy for the poor dear, you know?” Mrs. O’Connell sighed. It was obvious that she was very loyal to Tori. “She had quite an active social life before she married you.”

  “Duly noted.” Mikhail rubbed his face with his hands. “And you have no idea where she might have gone?”

  “Well, I’ve texted her friends, but I’m not getting any response.” The older woman seemed to reconsider. “Although that Jamie is quite the night owl. She might not even be awake yet.”

  Mikhail stood up. “All right. I’m up. My men and I will find her. Thank you for letting me know that she went out.”

  “You’re welcome.” Mrs. O’Connell looked as if she might want to say more, but she turned and left the study without another word.

  ***

  TORI WAS RATHER surprised at how crowded the restaurant was at a quarter to noon in the morning. In her exhausted estimation, it was still practically the middle of the night. It was on her tongue to ask some of the patrons walking in the door what would bring them out at such a god awful time of the morning. Then Tori recalled that she herself had missed an eleven o’clock meeting with her housekeeper, and that she was probably just tired and grouchy.

  With a sigh, she straightened the skirt of her borrowed dress and marched through the front doors of the restaurant. The hostess eyed her with curiosity, but the woman didn’t get a chance to be rude or otherwise because Antonin was already practically sprinting toward her from the back of the restaurant.

  “Welcome, cousin!” he called. “Come. I have a table for us in an area where we can have privacy. Are you hungry?”

  Tori considered the notion. She was hungry, but for now she didn’t feel like eating would be such a good idea. “How about coffee? Just black. No Russian coffee this early in the morning,” she told him with a smile.

  Antonin’s grin was enormous. “Ah! Black coffee it is.” He looked around for a waiter. “Viktor! Bring us a pot of coffee and a plate of those pastries I like.”

  “Yes, sir.” Viktor actually bowed at the waist before disappearing into the kitchen.

  “Wow.” Tori watched the exchange with interest. “That’s a lot of deference you get, huh?”

  Antonin led her to a small room off the main dining area. There was a single table set for two. An oil lamp flickered in the center of the table. The curtains were all still partially closed, giving the area a cozy, almost intimate feeling. It was certainly the perfect place for a clandestine conversation.

  “So?” Tori settled herself in the comfy little padded chair. “What was so important that you were banging on my friend’s door in the middle of the night?” Something occurred to Tori, and she frowned. “And while you’re at it, why don’t you explain how you knew I was there. Are you following me?”

  “It is the truth that we have been searching for ways to speak with you when Mikhail is not present,” Antonin admitted. “That was why I approached you at the casino.”

  “Yes, but you were just congratulating me on my marriage and shooting the breeze,” Tori reminded him. “Small talk.”

  “Perhaps it seemed like that,” Antonin agreed. The waiter came just then and brought coffee. The young man disappeared after that, and Antonin poured the rich black liquid into their cups. “I was trying to find out if you were content. We could not be sure if the marriage was voluntary.”

  “It wasn’t,” Tori said quickly. “I thought everyone knew that. It was arranged.”

  “It does not always follow that it must be unwelcomed, however,” Antonin pointed out. He stirred a lump of sugar into his coffee and then waved his little spoon in the air. “If you are happy, then it does not matter. If you are not happy, I feel there are some things you should know.”

  ***

  “UGH! WHAT DO you want?” Jamie moaned, opening the door and then walking back to the couch.

  Mikhail watched his wife’s friend curl up with a pillow and then essentially go back to sleep. He strode inside, Dimitri on his heels. Dimitri closed the door behind them, and both men were left staring at a woman who was obviously in no mood to speak with them.

  “Jamie,” Mikhail said firmly. “Where is Tori?”

  Jamie yawned hugely. “Let me guess. Dimitri there couldn’t get any info out of his lapdog Mara—which, by the way, her friends are so not happy about the way you use her for info—so the two of you came here. Am I right?”

  “Essentially.” Mikhail didn’t have time to debate semantics or nitpick details. “So where is she?”

  “She’s not here.” Jamie was already drifting off to sleep. “So why don’t you just close the door on your way out.”

  “I know she’s not here. Where is she?” Mikhail demanded. He was really getting irritated with this obvious stonewalling.

  Mikhail’s tone seemed to rouse Jamie just a bit. Her eyelids snapped open, and she glared at him. “You know, it’s really rude to treat her like your personal call girl.”

  “What?” Mikhai
l’s brain stalled. He had no idea what Jamie was talking about. “What are you babbling about now?”

  “You never talk to her. You just fuck her.” Jamie pointed at him, her eyes closed but her attention obviously focused on what she saw as the disrespect of her friend. “You make her feel like a whore.”

  Mikhail blinked. It felt as though he’d just had a cold bucket of water thrown in his face. Could that be true? His purpose had been to protect his wife, but was it possible that he was making her feel as though she wasn’t important? He’d never known any men who shared their petty concerns with their wives. At least they didn’t say that they did. Perhaps that was one of those marital mysteries that men never really spoke of. At least not honestly.

  “Go away,” Jamie muttered. “She’ll go home when she’s ready.”

  “I want to know where she is,” Mikhail snapped. “You will tell me.”

  “Go to hell.” Jamie crossed her arms and appeared to zone out even more. “I promise you, go home, and she’ll be there in a few hours. That was her plan. She’ll stick to it. Until then, if you’re so eager to show her that you don’t think of her as your personal whore, you might stop treating her like one.”

  ***

  TORI STARED AT her cousin and tried to guess what the man could be thinking. There had to be an angle. There was always an angle. Cousin or not, Antonin Orlov was in the mafia. He had a reason for dangling that bait in front of her, and it had nothing to do with her welfare.

  “I find it interesting,” she began, taking a sip of her coffee and savoring the intense flavor mixed with an almost tangy bitterness. “That you would give me some line about this information only making a difference if I am not happy. Why is that? Are you worried that if I’m happy it means I’ve bought into the Vasiliev way of thinking and would no longer have Orlov interests?”

  Antonin threw back his head and laughed. “You are so much your mother’s daughter. Do you know that?”

  “I barely remember her,” Tori said softly. “I have very few impressions of her. I recall the way she smelled, like roses, and I remember what it was like to feel her arms around me. I know that she loved me. I can feel that still. But no, if I’ve managed to turn out like she did, I had no idea.”

  “My aunt was a brilliant woman with a tactical mind and a way of cutting straight to the important point of any matter,” Antonin explained. “When she decided that it would be in the Orlovs’s best interest for her to marry Stanislas Vasiliev, she announced it at a meeting one day, and by the end of the week it was done.”

  “But she and my stepfather wound up loving each other,” Tori reminded him.

  “No.” Antonin adamantly shook his head. “She did not love that conniving bastard.”

  Tori was reeling. Her whole life had been built on that notion. Her mother had loved her stepfather, and that was why Stanislas loved Tori too. She reminded him of his lost love.

  Antonin reached across the table. “Perhaps you are right, perhaps I would have told you this no matter what. But it is important that you realize exactly what happened.”

  “And what was that?” Tori asked, her voice thin and weak.

  “Your stepfather was responsible for your mother’s death.” Antonin put his palm on the table and gave it a slap for emphasis. “Your mother came to me a few days before she died. She was excited. Can you guess why?”

  Tori had a feeling that she could guess. She just didn’t want to imagine that it could be true. “Was she—could she have been pregnant?”

  “Yes.” Her cousin bobbed his head. “She was. Your stepfather could not abide the thought of your mother having a boy and the possibility that the boy would be more Orlov than Vasiliev.”

  “Would he have been?” Tori demanded suddenly. “Would you and your father and my mother have made sure that my little brother was more Orlov than Vasiliev? Why would you not do such a thing? It would have been to your family’s benefit.” Tori suddenly realized why she was there. She began to laugh. Was nothing in life ever real?

  “What?” Antonin looked confused.

  “Is that why I’m here now?” Tori asked quietly. “In case I get pregnant, you want to make certain that my child is more Orlov than Vasiliev. Is that right?”

  Antonin didn’t answer, but then Tori didn’t need him to.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mikhail paced the downstairs hallway of his home like a tiger penned up in the zoo. Truthfully, that was the way he felt. He was a man of action. He always felt better when he was in motion, doing something. Yet now he was standing here—waiting—without any notion of when that deplorable activity would come to an end.

  The front door opened. Mikhail whipped around and stared until he thought his eyes might pop out of his head. Then Tori walked through the doorway and shut the door behind her. She didn’t appear to notice him or Dimitri standing there waiting for her. She turned toward the staircase instead and was already headed up.

  “Tori!”

  She paused, looking over her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m really not in the mood right now. I’m going to sleep for a while. Perhaps after that if you’re still horny, I’ll be in a better frame of mind to let you fuck me.”

  Her words were a knife in his gut. Could what Jamie said be true? Did Tori honestly feel as if he treated her like a whore?

  Mikhail swallowed the sudden lump that had lodged in his throat. “Tori, please. I want to talk to you.”

  “Of course you do.” She heaved a giant sigh. “Why wouldn’t you want to talk when I’m exhausted and don’t feel like it. Any other time it would be fine. But right now I just want to go to bed.”

  Mikhail should have been demanding to know where she was, but somehow that didn’t seem like the most pressing matter of importance. “Do you really feel like I treat you as if you’re my personal call girl?” He tried to remember exactly what Jamie had said. “Is that what you think?”

  “Don’t you?” She raised both eyebrows and stared at him without a single emotion on her face. “You never talk to me. I bet you couldn’t even say what my favorite foods are, or my favorite color. I bet you couldn’t describe one detail about me like that.” Tori pointed at him, and he felt utterly convicted. “But I bet you could describe the color of my pubic hair and tell anyone who wants to know what my nipples look like and what sort of sounds I make when I come.”

  “Of course!” Mikhail protested, his mind scrambling. “Those things are private things between a man and his wife.”

  “Or a man and his favorite porno,” she retorted. “A man who loves his wife will know more about her than the physical characteristics of what she looks like while having sex.”

  ***

  TORI COULD NOT believe she was actually having this discussion, and in front of Dimitri too. She suddenly pointed at him. “And I don’t know what you’ve done to my friend Maya, but she’s your whore now too. You use pillow talk like a weapon, and Jamie and I are sick of it.”

  Dimitri looked taken aback.

  Tori didn’t care. She turned and started walking up the stairs again. Then Mikhail grabbed her arm. She hadn’t even seen him move. She was that tired.

  “Tell me what I have to do to make this better,” Mikhail said in a low voice filled with urgency.

  “Leave me alone,” she told him. “Let me go upstairs. Let me sleep. Maybe if you have time at some point we can have a real date. You know, the sort of thing where you ask questions and talk about things that don’t revolve around where you’d like to have sex next.”

  Mikhail let go, and Tori headed up the stairs. She wondered if it was truly a sad state of affairs when she didn’t believe in any part of her soul that her husband would ever make the time to actually sit down and get to know her. That wasn’t a necessary part of his life. Fucking? That was certainly necessary as far as he was concerned. Intimacy? Not so much.

  There were tears on her cheeks when she reached the bedroom. She shed her clothing and climbed into the big comfy bed.
Curling up with as many pillows as she could find, Tori shut her eyes and tried to let herself drift off. But it was difficult. She kept seeing her cousin’s face telling her the probably half true and half bullshit story about her mother. Antonin had wanted something from Tori too. Everyone did. Her stepfather wanted her to solidify an alliance with the heir to the Vasiliev syndicate. Her mother’s family wanted her to swear loyalty to them. Mikhail wanted her flat on her back with her heels behind her ears and a giant smile on her face. And in all of this, the only question Tori hadn’t asked was what did she want?

  The idea was revolutionary and more than a little rebellious. What would make Tori happy? Of course, she needed to make sure she was going to be alive first. Maybe it was time to pay her stepbrother Alexei another visit. She hadn’t seen him in over a year. Of all the people in her life, Alexei was one of the only ones that Tori trusted to be completely honest. He was absolutely self-serving but completely straightforward about it.

  Tori rolled over and yawned. She would get some sleep, and then she would go and see Alexei. She’d ask him a few questions about her mother and see what he remembered. Then she would—well, she had no idea what she would do, but she had faith that she could figure it out.

  ***

  “MIKHAIL?” DIMITRI’S MURMUR cut through the inner monologue playing inside Mikhail’s mind. He glanced over at his friend. Tori had been sort of right. Dimitri did use Mara to discover things about her friends. It was rather underhanded in its own way.