by Bella Rose
“Dammit,” she muttered. “There’s a lot of logic in that line of reasoning.”
ANATOLY COULD NOT help but smile at Trisha’s sulky expression. “I’m not trying to minimize everything that you have been doing for yourself lately.”
“Wow,” she commented. “That was a shockingly human comment you just made.”
The waitress brought their salads, another server following behind with the appetizer tray. Once the table was settled and heaped with good food and more wine, Anatoly allowed himself to contemplate a response to her observation.
“You affect me, Trisha Copeland,” he told her quietly. “You are different. It makes me want to be different. I want to look at the world as more than just a means of making more money or getting what I want.”
“Then I suggest you start with not selling yourself on the auction block like some stud horse.” She pointed her fork at him. “Because that’s a permanent condition that could get ugly.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to explain about the Sokolovs and how much trouble they could make for the Zaretsky organization, but he didn’t want to lose her good opinion. Then he caught a glimpse of something awful from the corner of his eye.
Bianka Sokolov dragged a chair up to the side of the table and plopped down as though she had been invited. She glared at both Anatoly and Trisha in turn before snatching Trisha’s fork from beside her plate and digging into one of the appetizers. The rudeness of the gesture wasn’t just unbelievable, it was completely out of character for even Bianka.
“What are you doing?” Anatoly asked her in a flat tone of voice. “You weren’t invited, you should make yourself scarce.”
Bianka acted as though she had not heard him. “I needed to talk to you about the marriage offer you made to me the other day.”
Anatoly had forgotten that unfortunate detail, mostly because he had made the offer in jest. Now apparently it was a standing offer on the table. Great. Trisha was already looking at him with more than just confusion in her eyes.
“Bianka,” Anatoly said in a clear voice. “I was being facetious when I made that offer.”
“No, you were serious,” Bianka insisted. She took another bite off the appetizer plate. “Even Papa thought so.”
“Okay, but you know there is absolutely no way you would agree to those terms,” Anatoly reminded her. “Which is why I felt comfortable making you a sarcastic offer. I did not want you to accept.”
“Too bad.” She gave him a smug smile. “I accept! In fact, I eagerly accept.”
“You’re going to marry me, living on an allowance that is less than one fourth of your current clothing budget, and let me pay your household expenses so you don’t get to have any control over those expenditures either?” Anatoly didn’t believe it for one second.
“Of course,” Bianka agreed. “I just have one little question.”
“What’s that?” He expected her to ask for money or property, or the world’s largest diamond, something to do with finances.
“Are you going to set this—” She gestured impudently at Trisha. “—whore up in a house just as extravagant as mine? I have to tell you that I expect a better house and more money since I’ll be your wife. Other than that, I don’t care what you do.”
He would never forget the expression on Trisha’s face if he lived to be a hundred years old.
TRISHA HAD NEVER been so insulted and horrified all at once. Here she had been trying to convince Anatoly that he should hold out for marital happiness, or at least a wife he didn’t hate. But apparently that really didn’t matter around here. It was culturally acceptable for a man in Anatoly’s position to have his cake and eat it too.
Trisha was suddenly and completely done dealing with this crap. She primly set her napkin aside and stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to have Yakov take me back to the cabin.”
“Wait.” Bianka whipped around to stare at Trisha before turning back toward Anatoly and glaring with such ferocity that Trisha could feel the reflective heat. “Are you telling me that this prostitute is staying in the cabin with you?”
Trisha was going to lose her damn mind if she hung around for one more second. She put her hands on her hips and blew out a long breath. “I’m going to go now, Anatoly. Because if I stay here for one more second, I’m going to grab this bitch by her nappy ass hair and grind her face into the carpet.”
It made her feel both better and worse when Anatoly only chuckled. Then he gestured to Bianka. “If I were you I might think about being more respectful. Of all the people I know, Trisha is the one most capable of doing exactly what she’s just threatened. And Bianka, I wouldn’t lift a finger to stop her.”
“Bye.” Trisha didn’t wait to hear the rest. As much as Anatoly’s words felt like a compliment, she also felt like he was using Trisha to put Bianka in her place, and that wasn’t fair to either of them.
It was a short walk to the front of the restaurant, and Trisha felt much better when she inhaled a few deep lungfuls of fresh air. To her surprise, Yakov was waiting at the bottom of the steps with the car.
“How did you know?” she asked, approaching the tall, broad shouldered Russian.
His eyes were gleaming. “I saw Bianka enter the restaurant looking like a woman on a mission. Shall I take you back to the cabin?”
“Yes please.”
Trisha got into the car and was glad for the peace and quiet. She was very aware of Yakov’s gaze in the rearview mirror, though. It made her think of the conversation she’d overheard earlier. Perhaps of all the people involved, he would be the one most likely to tell her the truth.
“Yakov?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you say that Anatoly really needs to marry that horrible woman?”
Yakov pursed his lips and waited so long to answer that Trisha thought he was going to refuse. Finally he spoke. “In Moscow, Anatoly Zaretsky is the king of mafia business. He is brilliant. He is rich. People bend over backwards to do him favors. They love him.”
“But?”
“The Sokolovs are the kings of the underworld. They run more drugs and commit more dirty crimes than Anatoly could ever imagine necessary.”
“So why combine forces with people who are just a bunch of bloodthirsty criminals?”
“So that they don’t decide to murder Anatoly just to take what he has,” Yakov said grimly.
Trisha swallowed. Her mouth felt as if it were lined in cotton. “I suppose that might be a good reason.”
Chapter Sixteen
Anatoly sat back in his seat and gazed at the woman who had somehow managed to become his nemesis. All the power and money at his disposal, and he could not manage to make her go away. Perhaps he needed a new strategy.
Right now, Bianka’s lips were twisted into a smug smile. She thought she had won. “I’m so sorry that your little date quit the field.”
“I can assure you, she didn’t quit.” This was not the time to lose his temper. He needed to remember that.
There was a flicker of something that might have been called unease on Bianka’s face. Then she smoothed her expression and looked around them. The restaurant was busy with guests coming to sample the hearty fare on offer.
“You’ve never brought me here before,” she mused.
He didn’t remind her that he hadn’t actually brought her here now either.
The waitress brought the main course, setting it on the table and looking somewhat confused. She looked to Anatoly. “Shall I bring another place setting?”
“No need,” Bianka said imperiously. She began to help herself to Trisha’s food.
The steaming portions of Chicken Kiev were making Anatoly’s mouth water, but he did not give in. He did not intend to allow Bianka to win this round.
“Elizabeth?” he hailed the waitress. “Box these up please.” He gave Bianka a disdainful look. “And please throw away what’s on that plate and get a fresh order for me to take back with me.”
Bianka looked disgruntled. “That was rude.”
“Rude?” Okay. Now he was having difficulty controlling his temper. “After your behavior this evening, you think that was rude?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Bianka, why do you want to marry me?” He decided to take the bull by the horns.
She actually looked a bit confused. “Because you are the Zaretsky heir and I am the Sokolov heir and it is my right to be queen of the city.”
“Really.”
“Yes.”
“So you have no feelings for me whatsoever?” he prodded.
Somewhere across the room he could see a young couple having dinner together. They were holding hands across the table. At times their expressions were so loving towards each other that it was physically painful to watch. Would he never have that sort of relationship?
“Do you see them?” He nodded his head toward the couple, and Bianka glanced over.
She shrugged. “They are ridiculous. You cannot eat love, or sell it when times are hard. Love cannot bring you power. What good is it?”
“Spoken like a woman who has everything but love.” Even as he said the words, he realized that they could be applied to him as well. “I have all those things. Money, power, men to do my bidding, and success in my business ventures.” Even saying it out loud sounded hollow. “What I don’t have is the one person in the world I want to share it with.”
“Oh, how sweet!” Her words dripped sarcasm. “Little Anatoly wants true love.” She curled her lip in disdain. “Sorry, but if you want to keep the money and the power, you’re going to have to marry me in order to keep the Sokolovs from murdering you in your sleep.”
“Is that a direct threat?” he asked silkily. He steepled his fingers on the tabletop and wondered if the old man had sent his daughter to make a regular nuisance of herself until he agreed. “And does your father know you’re threatening me?”
“My father will do whatever it takes to get what he wants.” He could see her grinding her teeth together. Beneath her pretty face, she was as sour as old Motya Sokolov. “And he will thank me for doing whatever I have to do to secure my future.”
“I’m not a bull to be led around by a ring in its nose. Marrying me would get you nothing.”
“All these years and you still know nothing of women,” she said with a laugh. “I will get what I want. Everything I want. And if I do not, your little prostitute will suffer the consequences.”
Her threat might have carried weight if she had been threatening any other woman. Instead, he let her see his amusement. “You believe my Trisha is like you.”
“All women are like me,” she said arrogantly. “We scheme and plan for power and money.”
“You’re wrong. And if you try to match wits with Trisha, you’re going to find yourself on the losing end of an epic battle.”
“You put so much faith in a woman that you have treated as nothing but a whore.” Bianka tilted her head, mocking him with each word. “Perhaps you should have put a ring on it while you had the option.”
“This double speak is getting old. If you insist upon remaining here at the resort, I hope you enjoy your stay. But I’m on vacation, so I won’t be available for the remainder of the week.” He stood up and walked out. He felt uneasy and wanted to see for himself that Trisha was all right.
The waitress brought him a bag of food, and he exited the restaurant in search of Yakov.
TRISHA PLACED HER hands flat on the smooth wood of the deck railing and gazed out across the dark valley spread out below the cabin. The trees cast long shadows over the thick grass, and the moonlight cast a blue sheen over the landscape. It was very beautiful. She tried to imagine it in the wintertime with tons of snow and icicles hanging from the tree limbs. It would be like a winter fairyland.
“There you are.” Anatoly’s low voice drifted on the night air.
She turned and offered him a tight smile. “I thought I would relax out here for awhile before going to bed.”
“You are angry.”
She didn’t turn again. Instead, she sensed his presence right behind her on the deck. She could feel the warmth of his body there beside her. It was comforting, even though it shouldn’t have been. There was nothing comforting about this man. Not really.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice husky.
“I’m wondering if you’ve improved my life or encouraged me to destroy it completely.” It was an honest answer, but she was a little surprised that she’d had the gall to say it out loud. “Since you entered my life, I’ve defied my father, worried both of my parents, completely thrown caution to the wind, and given myself physically to a man that isn’t even certain he wants me.”
He touched the back of her neck. “Never think that.”
“No. I will think that.” She turned now to look him straight in the face. The shadows on the deck painted him half in darkness and half in light. “You want me, in the physical sense. Your body wants me. You want to fuck me—if that’s how you want to put it. But when it comes to this?” She made a gestured to encompass her whole person. “You’re not even sure you know what to do with this.”
“I’ve never been in a relationship.”
Trisha snorted. “I think I’d already figured that much out for myself. But thanks.”
“I’m simply asking you to cut me some slack.”
Was he begging for another chance? That was disturbing, mostly because she seemed to be hardwired to say yes. “I have cut you some slack,” she told him gently. “I really have. I haven’t even mentioned the fact that you and that horrible woman were talking about my status as your mistress as if I wasn’t there and had no opinion on the subject.”
She saw his jaw tighten. Then he gave what appeared to be a careful shrug. “It would simply make things easier. That is all.”
“What?” Trisha was certain she had heard him wrong. Then she thought about what Yakov had told her. “Yakov said that the Sokolovs are essentially evil people who run drugs and murder their competition with extreme prejudice.”
“Yakov is correct.” Anatoly ran his fingers through his hair, obviously unsettled. “Bianka’s father—Motya—is know all across Moscow as one of the cruelest mafia men in the business.”
“And you? People seem to cater to you. They give you things and treat you like royalty. That means nothing to this Motya person?”
“Not particularly.” He made a face. “People treat me like that because I am rich. It is well known that I own a lot of businesses and pump a lot of money into the infrastructure of Moscow because it suits me to do so and it increases my revenue.”
She snorted, realizing where this was going and what she had to do. “So you’re a bit like the Robin Hood of Moscow.”
“Who is this Hood person?” He frowned.
She burst into humorless laughter. “It’s a children’s story. Never mind that.”
“Marrying Bianka would firm up the connection between the Zaretskys and the Sokolovs. It would no longer be in Motya Sokolov’s best interest to see me fail. Not when his daughter stood to gain from my success.”
“And the preferences of the people involved mean nothing?” She couldn’t even imagine such a thing.
“No.”
“So you’re just going to promise before a priest to love and cherish this woman that you don’t even like. And then you’re going to cheat on her consistently? That sounds horrible!”
“She wouldn’t care,” he said bitterly. “I assure you. I could buy you a house in Moscow, something in a good part of town where you could go to museums and immerse yourself in history every single day.”
He sounded as though he were truly trying to sell her on the idea. She had known that they were only getting to know each other, but surely by now he should have known her a little bit?
“Trisha?” He gently ran his fi
ngers down her bare arm.
She snatched her hand away before he could hold it. “You would make her your wife and me your whore. How can you even think I would let you touch me after that? Have you no concept of respect? Do you not understand how much of an insult that would be to me? I’m not even sure I could wake up and look at myself in the mirror every morning.”
“It’s not like that.” He made a low noise, clucking and pressing his lips together. “Here in Russia things are different. Men of influence often take mistresses.”
“Yes. I’ve read Anna Karenina,” she said irritably. “I saw how that turned out.”
“That was fictional, Trisha.” There was something patient, almost instructive in his tone.
That just pissed her off even more. How dare he? But perhaps he simply wasn’t ready to change. He obviously wanted to, but change was hard, and sustainable change was damn near impossible when the whole world seemed to want the opposite.
Given this, Trisha knew what she had to do.
“I’m tired,” she murmured. “I’m going to bed.”
“But I’ve brought your dinner.” He gestured to a bag of food containers sitting on the table.
“You should have just shared the meal with your future wife. I’m not really hungry.”
Without another word, she retreated to the room where Yakov had put her things earlier that day. It adjoined Anatoly’s, and yet they were separate. How appropriate.
Chapter Seventeen
Trisha felt as though she had been in this exact spot only a handful of days before. The house was eerily silent. Moonlight filtered in from the windows and painted the wood floors in shades of blue. She secured the strap of her overnight bag across her body and made certain it was secure.
Looking over her shoulder, she briefly allowed herself the luxury of mourning the loss of her luggage. She had managed to hang onto her things up until now. But there was no way she could make her escape lugging two suitcases behind her. Still, it didn’t really matter. It was just stuff. She could buy more stuff. Especially since she was determined to be on her own now. She was not going home just to resume her old life. That wasn’t what she wanted, and it was high time she made that clear.