Time off was usually more stressful than blissful, as Roman prided himself on his work ethic, so he decided to perform maintenance checks on the vehicles. On his way to the garage, he saw Elena seated on an overstuffed leather couch in the downstairs sitting room. She seemed to be back to her normal self after the news last night; Roman watched her flip through a fashion magazine and casually sip her own morning coffee.
He doubted her actions were as casual as they seemed. On the surface, Elena conducted herself with dignity and grace, able to seemingly push aside life’s downfalls so she could save face, but he’d seen through some of her facade the night before, and he knew that she had to be hurting. He made his way over, intending to ask her what she’d like to do about her mother. Viktor would have to be informed, of course, and an excursion would have to be approved, but Roman would gladly take the time to bring her wherever she needed to go.
To him, she was worth the effort. If seeing her mother again would make her happy, then he’d go out of his way to make sure it happened.
Just as Roman opened his mouth to speak, Alexandra slipped into the room and plopped down on the couch next to Elena. She was carrying a stack of magazines. The two of them began talking then, and Roman got the distinct feeling he was about to interrupt something. With a shake of his head, he disappeared into the garage solo.
A few hours later, after Roman had finished with tire pressure, oil, and other checks, he ducked back into the house. He passed the dining room on his way to the kitchen and noticed Elena seated at the large wooden table.
Perhaps now would be a better time to catch her.
Yet, when he poked his head in, he realized that she was in the middle of lunch with Viktor and Alexandra. He lingered for only a moment, and left before he was noticed.
It seemed Elena was assimilating well into daily life at the Sokolov mansion, Roman noted. After last night, his uncertainty about her allegiance had faded. There was nothing in her file to indicate that she was still loyal to her family, and so far her story had checked out—including that one of Viktor’s men had transported her to the hangar in Russia—and even the ‘lie’ Roman had suspected her of had turned out to be a sort of misunderstanding, the fault of her father rather than her.
Part of him regretted not going further last night. They had been right there, locked in an embrace, and it would have been so easy, and felt so right, to just take her on her bed. But the look of horror and betrayal in her eyes when she had learned her mother was still alive had also eaten at him. How could he make love to her when she was clearly in shock? Whether she’d realized it or not, he would have been taking advantage of her.
No, it was better to have waited. That way, he could ensure it was the right decision for both of them instead of potentially taking advantage of Elena’s confusion. Roman was no stranger to loss or trauma, and he knew deep in his heart that stress like that often clouded judgement. The last thing he needed was to pile more remorse on poor Elena’s already full plate.
Still, he thought, today was a new day. All it would take was one small stretch of one-on-one time with Elena to gauge her true feelings now that she had had a chance to rest and recover from the news about her mother. If only he could get her alone.
Roman took his lunch at the front guard post near the foyer. He sat and munched on a sandwich while reviewing the security footage and visitor notes from the past few days. It felt like meaningless busywork, and probably was, but it was better than moping around the mansion with puppy dog eyes for Elena.
When all that remained of his lunch was an empty plate and he was certain nothing was out of place in the guest logs, he made his way back down the hall toward the kitchen. On the way, he saw Elena. Alone.
So, now was his chance.
As Elena walked by, he nodded politely at her.
“How are you doing today?” He asked the question softly, so that only she would hear. The notes of his voice bore significance. He hoped she’d understand what he meant..
“I’m, uh, I’m okay.” Elena pointed down the hall, but the tension in her posture and the look in her eyes betrayed her statement. She wasn’t okay. “I need to go meet Alexandra upstairs, though. We’re doing a thing.”
“A thing?” Roman studied her, looking for a way to get through. He understood that she likely didn’t want to talk about what he’d discovered, or what had happened last night, but it bothered him that she was trying to act normally while hurting so badly on the inside. Was she afraid of being considered weak?
He didn’t think that of her at all.
“Yeah, all day today we’ve been talking about going shopping, but before we do, she has a bunch of clothes to go through. Last season, this season… y’know, girl stuff.” Elena chuckled, but it was strained. “She’s been waiting for me up there for, like, forever, though. I’m a slow eater. Like a turtle.”
Elena continued down the hall. Then she turned to speak over her shoulder at him. There was a hint of regret in her eyes, like she wanted to stay and talk but couldn’t. He longed to catch her by the wrist and beg her to say what she needed to, but he didn’t dare. Elena was her own creature, wild in a way that he couldn’t hope to conquer. If she wanted to come to him, she would. Forcing her wouldn’t help his cause. “Catch you later, chaufferone!”
As she passed, Roman stood in place and did his best to figure out what he could do. She was hurt, and she needed help. If she couldn’t turn to Alexandra or Viktor, then he would be the man who’d hold her as she let go of her pain and listen to her woes. He’d—
A familiar hand slapped him on the back. Viktor was right behind him. Roman felt his pulse rise in anticipation and waited for his boss to reprimand him, but instead he heard a deep chuckle.
“And here, all this time, I thought you were a monk!” Viktor joked after Elena had turned the corner and was out of earshot. Roman spun to face him. He felt sheepish for reasons he couldn’t understand, but offered a tight-lipped smile to Viktor in an attempt to play off his awkwardness.
“You’ve teased me for years about being ‘a monk,’ Viktor, and I’ve told you repeatedly that I am married to my work. No vow of chastity, just a vow to do my duties unhindered,” Roman said coolly.
“Your eyes don’t lie, friend. I saw the way you were looking at Elena’s ass, and all I can say is congratulations for being a warm-blooded male like the rest of us.” Viktor’s smile widened. He clapped Roman on the back again before his hand dropped. “You look tense. Just relax. If you want to go for her, then go for her! You’re my best friend, and she’s Alexandra’s best friend. You have my well-wishes. It sounds like a match made in heaven.”
Roman forced down a dry swallow. A match made in heaven? His suspicions had diminished, but Roman’s duty was still keeping Viktor safe. Should he tell Viktor about the discovery last night?
No, Roman decided, there was still no evidence against Elena. She really seemed to be a defector. The business with her mother was private, something she had to work out on her own how to deal with, and Viktor didn’t need to know.
“Thank you.” It was all Roman could think to say. He forced his smile a little wider, which seemed to placate Viktor.
Despite their first impressions and despite Roman’s initial suspicions, maybe Elena was a good thing after all.
10
Elena
Lunch, shopping, swimming, dinner—Elena found herself genuinely enjoying time with Alexandra and even Viktor now that she’d made up her mind to truly defect. No longer was she tethered to her father’s wishes, and no longer would she carry through with an assassination. The burden of guilt had been lifted, but now that Elena was alone at the conclusion of a full day, she found her heart was still heavy.
All that day, she’d managed to lose herself in busyness, in chatting and in being free to enjoy friendship without any mission or betrayal to taint her time. But she’d also been hiding from the question of what to do now, and even how to feel—about her mother.
After Viktor and Alexandra went to bed, Elena sat in her room staring at the ornate wallpaper, unable to think of anything except her mother. It had been almost ten years since they had seen each other. Did her mom know about her time at the university? Her life? It plagued her to know someone who had once been so close and so dear was now a relative stranger.
She needed to go see her mother, and as soon as possible—the more she thought about, the more she saw that time was critical. Once her father figured out that Elena truly was defecting, she didn’t know what would happen. She was stationed at the Sokolov mansion only because Elena had begged Viktor to let her seek asylum there after Elena had planted the idea in her mind that she was in danger. Now that she really was in danger, what would happen? If men loyal to the Popov family descended upon the house, would Viktor see her as a source of danger and move her elsewhere?
Somewhere far away from her mother… and far away from Roman.
She had spent so much energy fretting over her mother that Elena realized, in this moment, she also had her father to worry about. He had not only killed one friend to frame another in an attempt to solidify his arms trade takeover, but he had gone through such great lengths to hide her mother. If he was so heartless—and for the first time, Elena realized he was heartless—then her betrayal might very well endanger her life. What would Anatoly do once he found out his daughter was disloyal?
All Elena could do was force down a lump in her throat and take a breath. The silence of the house and the emptiness of the room was haunting; suddenly, she felt incredibly alone and vulnerable.
Roman’s words replayed in her head: I promise you that no matter what you decide to do about your mom, I’ll be there to help you.
“Chaufferone,” Elena whispered into the empty room as her vision blurred with tears, “I hope you really can help me.”
She rose from the bed and pulled her robe on over her satin nightgown, then padded down the quiet hall to Roman’s room. After a tiny, hesitant knock, the door opened.
Roman took one look at her and pulled her into his arms for a tight, reassuring hug. The door closed behind him.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Roman asked as he led her over to sit on his bed.
“I just…” Elena’s mouth went dry and she couldn’t find the right words.
“Your mother?” he asked gently.
Elena nodded. Paused. Shook her head instead. “My father. I just… I don’t feel safe. If he could do that to his own wife, what will he do to me?” She snuggled up against Roman and rested her head against his shoulder.
Roman shifted his weight and wrapped his arm around her instead, pressing her head against the side of his chest. He took a long, slow inhale.
“You’re in the house of a well-respected mafia boss. There are security cameras, guards, guns, and every manner of protection you can dream of,” he answered. Elena squeezed his arm harder, more tightly to her.
“I don’t know the guards, I don’t know anything about guns… will you keep me safe?” she asked quietly.
Roman looked down at her then, and Elena didn’t just see the determination in his eyes—she felt it.
“Yes. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe,” he told her.
She buried her face against him. His body was warm, and his pajamas were soft. Tonight, he smelled like laundry detergent and spiced soap. Roman’s presence soothed her like nothing else.
It was hard to believe this was the man she’d wanted to punch in the face only a few days before, but their time spent together had taught her that Roman was a good man, and eternally dependable.
Moments turned into minutes spent snuggled up against him. The longer Elena felt his body against hers, the more her fear faded. She wasn’t certain how long they had been sitting on the bed together when she felt his weight shift.
Elena opened her eyes to find him gazing at her with adoration. Before she could say anything, his mouth was against hers and they were locked in a deep kiss. Elena’s eyes shut and she melted against him.
Their arms wrapped around one another, embracing as their lips continued, their kiss growing more passionate as seconds passed by. Elena’s world blurred. What remained of her fear was gone, replaced now by the first stirrings of lust.
He leaned over her, slowly pushing her down into the bed. Elena moaned in pleasure when she felt his erection through his pajamas. His hardness brushed her thigh and lit fireworks in her. Wetness seeped between her legs.
“You’re not going to flake out on me again like last night, are you, chaufferone?” she whispered with a faint grin. He leaned back with a playfully incredulous expression. His hand travelled between their bodies and crept past her robe, up below her nightgown, with teasing slowness.
Elena was suddenly grateful that she slept without underwear.
A moan escaped her lips when she felt his finger against her slick sex. He probed at her with smooth motions until his finger rested against her engorged clit.
“No. Forget what I said last night—you need a distraction right now.” He’d begun to rub her with delicate, circular motions as he spoke. Each movement of his finger sent her spiralling downward into insatiable lust.
Elena’s simmering arousal boiled over. She worked her hips against him, craving the stimulation, needing him. She bucked and writhed at his touch, each breath escaping her lips as a small moan. When he had worked her to the point of frenzy, his hand teased away from her pussy and down her thigh to leave a slight trail of wetness.
She looked up at him with a pout to find him pulling his shirt off. Lean muscle and tan skin greeted her. When his pants hit the floor, she watched his erection pulse and imagined it slipping between her legs.
Roman had the perfect build, Elena thought to herself as she devoured his body with her eyes—muscular without being too bulky. He looked like a fitness model from a magazine. Who would have thought that driving would keep him in such great shape?
She noticed the scars on his knuckles then, and it occurred to her that he must do much more than just drive. Dutiful, polite Roman had a violent side.
She felt safer than ever at this realization, and as she looked him over one final time, she wanted him more than ever, too. She slipped out of her robe and nightgown; they landed on the ground next to the bed. His appreciative gaze wandered across her body, pausing at her full breasts and the hairless pink lips between her legs.
Elena spun a length of hair around her finger as she asked, “Do you have a condom?” Flushed and panting, it pained her to interrupt when all she could ever want, all she could think of, was how good his body would feel grinding against hers and how well that heavy cock would fill her.
“Yes. Just a moment.” When he bent to retrieve a small metallic square from his nightstand, she greedily stared at his tight ass.
“You know, you look pretty damn hot in your suit, but you look even better naked,” she mused while he rolled the condom along his length and secured it at the base. He turned to her with an impish expression.
“And you’re gorgeous, but sometimes that tongue is too sharp.” He climbed atop her where she lay, pinning her to the bed, and guided himself toward her entrance.
Elena tossed her head back with a groan of pleasure. The anticipation of feeling him inside of her was too great; she squirmed beneath him and leaned forward to bite at his neck while he circled her swollen pussy with the head of his cock.
Roman issued a moan in response when her teeth met his flesh. The hunger behind his eyes matched her own as he thrust forward to join them. Elena reached up to grab a handful of his hair, bucking to his rhythm. Her mouth fell from his neck, lips parted, her breathing hitched. Her legs wrapped around him in a sudden lunge, driving their bodies closer together and bringing his cock in deeper.
Time bled away as she bucked to his rhythm. The hand in his hair slipped downward so that Elena could wrap her arms around his shoulders and ride him even as he pinned her. Any semb
lance of self-control was gone. Elena was caught in a whirlwind of lust and could do nothing more than ride it out.
Roman had started out slow, but now he was fucking her furiously. Over and over, his length drove deep into her aching pussy, until spots danced in her vision and she felt herself near the edge of climax.
“Make me come, Roman. Oh God, I need you,” she panted. “Please make me come.” Another mewling plea escaped her lips. She arched her back, and when he thrust again, he hit just the right spot.
Roman seemed incapable of words. He issued a harsh grunt, flesh slipping against flesh, until the rush of orgasm overtook Elena. Her body tensed, and she rode out wave after wave of pleasure, and not long after, felt him jerk harshly into her with a loud cry.
Panting, a sheen of sweat on their bodies, both Elena and Roman remained in their embrace. Only when they came back down to Earth and their breathing slowed did he carefully withdraw from her. The condom was tossed in the trash. He plopped back down into the bed and pulled her to his chest.
Bliss. For a moment, Elena closed her eyes and listened to the beating of Roman’s heart. The rhythm was a comfort, as was the firmness of his body.
No matter what happened, Roman would be there for her. Even in this uncertain time, she had someone she could count on. That in itself was a blessing beyond words.
But as the afterglow of sex wore off, Elena’s mind returned to her mother.
She imagined a reunion. Walking into the nursing home, hugging her mother with tears in her eyes. They would laugh and talk for hours, catching up on one another’s lives and telling stories from the past nine years.
She would bring her mother coffee—a soy mocha, of course—and they would sip their drinks and look over photographs and magazines. She would hear her mother’s stories of the family back in Russia, would get to hear about her grandparents again, and would know that she finally had her mother back.
The Sokolov Brothers: The Complete Series Page 16