by Nic Saint
Either way, she’d hate him for what he’d done to her.
And even more for what they’d do to her father.
There was no way he could win at this game.
CHAPTER 13
“It doesn’t matter. Really, Dimi, it doesn’t.”
Ariel had awoken in the middle of the night, only to find Dimitri sleeping on her side of the bed, his arms enveloping her in a gesture of protection. The moment she stirred, he’d opened his eyes and, finding her wriggling beneath his sturdy form, had profusely apologized.
“It’s only natural,” she assured him. She gestured to the bed. “This is, after all, a bed for newlyweds. It’s positively humming with the vibrations of all the couples who have gone before us. No wonder we would drift into each other’s arms.”
“I’m sorry, Ariel,” he repeated. “It won’t happen again.”
She merely nodded and slipped from beneath the covers, padding over to the bathroom. Looking back, she saw him rubbing his brow in a gesture of nervousness. She hadn’t noticed these small gestures at first, but living together as husband and wife, she was growing accustomed to his mannerisms and the small things that characterize a person. She had to admit she found comfort in getting to know him better, and even enjoyed watching him.
The fact that he was nervous, too, had surprised her at first, but now she understood. He had a lot riding on this. He’d stuck his neck out for her, and if things went wrong, would find it on the butcher block, along with hers.
She hadn’t wanted to admit it, for fear of provoking his furious fervor, but she’d actually enjoyed the feel of his hulking frame tightly wrapped around her, his strong arms keeping her safe. As long as Dimitri was around, she felt comforted and taken care of.
How far they’d come, the two of them, in the space of only a day. Whereas she’d furiously tried to escape his clutches the morning before, now she found comfort and safety in his arms.
As she slipped back into bed, she found that he was still wide awake, his eyes open and staring up at the ceiling. Tomorrow was an important day, he’d said. The day they would embark on their journey. She felt trepidation, sure, but somehow also the reassurance he would do everything that lay in his power to protect her and keep her safe from harm.
Her plans of escape had dwindled and died. Now she didn’t yearn to get away from him any longer, but to seek a solution that included him instead. She snuggled up to him, incapable of staying away, and felt gratified when his arm slipped around her and held her close.
“Dimi?”
“Mh?”
“Don’t you think there’s a way for us to escape together once we’re in the States?”
He gave this some thought, then said, “There’s nowhere to hide from the family. Even after twenty years, they’re still hunting for your father. And he’s FBI, protected by your government.”
“I’m sure they’ll do the same for us—for you.”
He shook his head. “There’s my brother to think of. If I turn tail and rat out the Gornakovs, they’ll come after Roman.”
“And your parents. Lilia and Andre,” she murmured. “Perhaps your family can join you in exile?”
He hesitated. “I don’t think they would go for it.”
She wasn’t sure whether he meant his family or the American government, though she suspected it was the former. She’d only briefly met his brother, and he looked like a real hard-ass. A genuine killer. Loyal to a fault to his employers. He would never follow Dimitri and his parents into exile. And if he didn’t, he’d be dead, and Dimitri could never do that to him.
They were effectively stuck. No way out of this that ended well for everyone involved. And yet they had to. She couldn’t sit idly by while these monsters drew out her father and murdered him. All because of her.
“We must find a way, Dimi. We simply must. We have to save my father.”
Though he didn’t respond, she knew he agreed. Which was odd. Wasn’t he part of the same gang of murderers himself? It was all so confusing.
She hugged him closer and felt the familiar heat spreading through her body at his proximity and warmth. She could hear his heartbeat, feel his chest rise and fall, and the strength of his arms around her. She reveled in the comfort of his embrace, and gradually fell into a deep sleep once again.
Dimitri felt her drift off and wondered how he would survive this night. She’d slipped her leg across his, and his knee touched the heart of her sex while her breasts pressed against his side. She was so warm and soft, so close and yet so far. He could have taken her now, could have plied her to his will and plundered her tender body with abandon, and yet he couldn’t.
He could never betray her trust in him, or the sacred oath he’d sworn the day he first laid eyes on her that he would protect her and keep her safe from harm. His hardness strained against the confines of his boxers to the point it physically hurt, and no matter how many times he adjusted, he couldn’t find comfort. He yearned for her with a longing that was beyond anything he’d ever experienced. It drove him mad, slowly but surely. She drove him mad.
He’d wondered briefly whether to tell her that Lilia and Andre weren’t his real parents, merely actors playing a part, but then decided against it. The less she knew, the better. She was to play her part too, and if accepting his parents as real would help her do so, he should leave her in the illusion the three of them were one happy family. Four, when he added Roman.
He frowned when he thought of his big brother. He’d left the hotel earlier that day and wouldn’t return until tomorrow. He’d kept his feelings for the girl carefully sealed away, but still thought his brother had suspected his true motivation for volunteering for this mission. Roman never missed a beat and had an uncanny ability to read a person.
Yes, he probably knew.
But then why had he agreed to Dimitri’s cockamamie plan?
CHAPTER 14
I can’t go through with this, Niko. I really can’t.”
The heart cry wasn’t the first time Dora had made her objections known, but Nikosj knew that this time she really meant it.
“But, honey!” The theater manager’s reedy voice rose over the hubbub of the rehearsal’s aftermath. Other actors waved their goodbyes as they left the stage, and Nikosj distractedly waved back. “You can’t back out now. I promised Roman I’d have everything ready! And if I don’t do as he tells me…” He slid his finger across his throat to indicate what would happen if he didn’t comply.
“That’s your problem, then, isn’t it?” Dora pointed out. She’d planted her hands on her very shapely hips, and he knew exactly what that meant.
He threw her a pleading look. “Come on, Dora. They’ll be here any day now.” He held out his hands. “You promised, darling!”
She moved her shapely shoulders. “Well, I promise a lot of things.”
That was true, Nikosj thought ruefully. Dora, one of his minor starlets, made promises to pretty much any guy she hoped could be of some use to her, and then reneged on those promises the moment a better deal came along.
“Look, Dora,” he started again, “It’s not just my ass that’s on the line. It’s yours too, baby. You don’t know these people! They’re the Russian mob for Christ’s sakes! If we don’t do as we’re told, we’ll be sleeping with the fishes!”
Her frown darkened. “What exactly did you promise them, Niko? What kind of shit did you drag me into this time?”
She didn’t seem too well pleased, Nikosj thought, but he needed her. Roman had specifically asked for her. “I think you will find that they’re very generous, these Russians,” he soothed. “They’ll pay a packet. If you do as you’re told.”
“And if not I’ll be sleeping with the fishes.” She placed a finger on her chin in an exaggerated gesture. “Mh. Tough choice, Niko. Very tough!”
“Oh, don’t be like this, baby,” he implored. “I can’t help it if this theater is owned by the Gornakovs, can I? If not for them, we’d all be out of a job.�
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She stood, arms wrapped across her ample bosom, foot tapping. “I don’t like it. Don’t like it one bit.”
“Do you think I like it? I hate this arrangement! They just come barging in here and expect me to drop everything, just cause old man Gornakov got some crazy idea in his nut. It’s hell for me too, babe!”
“Well, you’re not the one who has to put them up, are you?”
“Just for one week?” He held up a single finger for emphasis, giving her his best impression of an imploring kitten.
She eyed him sternly, then seemed to melt. “Don’t look at me like that, Niko. You know it reduces me to a puddle. Who are these people, anyway?”
Satisfied that she was finally coming around, he thought hard. What was that story again that Roman had fed him? “Um, she’s some American kid who just got married to one of Russia’s richest oligarchs. And they’re coming to the States on their honeymoon.”
“Local girl done good, huh?” A gleam had appeared in her eye. “Is he really rich, this oligarch fellow?”
“Loaded,” he returned, a wide grin on his face. “One of the richest guys in Russia, apparently.”
“Millionaire or billionaire?”
“Billionaire, of course. Oil and gas, baby.”
A disgruntled frown marred her smooth brow, and Niko knew what that meant. The green-eyed monster of jealousy was rearing its ugly head again. No matter how many stage plays she appeared in, the pint-sized actress had little hope of ever striking it big. Not that she wasn’t talented, but she didn’t seem to have ‘it’. Whatever it was. And though she was a pretty little thing to look at, most guys with money went for the stars. Dora had to make do with the gropers and the bums.
“Don’t worry, babe,” he added in a comforting tone as he patted her shoulder. “Being a Russian oligarch is a very fickle business. Up one day, dead or in prison the next. It’s a cutthroat affair.”
“Just like showbiz, huh?” she observed keenly. She shrugged. “Is she pretty, this bride?”
“Not as pretty as you, of course!”
She eyed him dubiously, flattery not doing much to convince her. “Do you have a picture?”
With a frown, he unearthed his smartphone, then flicked through to the last message he’d gotten from Roman, the Gornakov family’s main enforcer and one scary guy. He found what he was looking for and pressed the phone in Dora’s perfectly manicured fingers.
She studied the picture of Ariel Cole carefully, then gave a disappointed pout. “She’s prettier than me. Way prettier.”
“Of course she isn’t, darling.” Actually, he thought, she looked a little like Dora. The petite frame, the blond hair, the aura of fresh-faced innocence…
She handed back the phone. “She looks like an ingénue. How old is she? Sixteen?”
“Twenty-three,” muttered Nikosj as he studied the picture. She was pretty, no doubt about it. Gorgeous, in fact. As he licked his lips, he knew that if he played his cards right, there would be a nice packet in it for him. Girl as gorgeous as this? She would attract the attention of every media hound.
“Stop drooling!”
Feeling caught, he looked up, trying to project innocence but miserably failing. Nikosj Markasov might be a great theater manager, he was a lousy actor.
“Look, I’ll go along with this dirty little scheme of yours, but only on one condition.”
He sighed. She with her conditions. “What’s that?”
“A raise. And a substantial one. Next show I’m in? I want double.”
His money-grubbing soul twisting into a knot, he exclaimed, “What! You’re crazy!”
And there was that pout again, and the arms carefully folded beneath her ample bosom, pressing her boobs up just so, her cleavage breath-taking. She had the body of a teenager, but a rack to die for. He swallowed, and felt sweat pearling his brow at the thought that if he could just have her once, just one time, it would all be worth it. “Done,” he croaked as he stuck a finger in his collar and tugged.
She slipped her arms around his neck and placed a well-earned kiss on his lips, then pressed those famous Dora Liverpool boobs against his chest, just a small promise of what could be his one day.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he grumbled when she kissed him all over his face. He patted her ass as she tripped off to her dressing room, then shook his head. He must be crazy, he thought, promising her a one hundred percent raise just for doing one lousy job for him.
Well, not for him, actually. For the Gornakovs. And since they were the ones paying her salary, it didn’t really matter, did it? As long as they got what they paid for, they would be more than pleased. When the request came, it had surprised him. Why would Roman pick some unknown actress to put up Russia’s biggest oligarch and his new wife? Why not go to a five-star hotel? But then he knew better than to question the man’s motives.
For some reason, Roman wanted Dora Liverpool, and Dora was what he would get. Though he failed to see how or why, he knew that if he just did as he was told, he would be richly rewarded. And if it landed Dora in his bed… He licked his lips at this little bonus he’d planned for himself.
He picked up his phone and brought it to his ear. When the connection was established, he put on his most obsequious tone and chimed, “Why, hello, Roman. Just wanted to give you the good news personally. The stage is set for your arrival. Yes. The great New York welcome has been arranged. Dora Liverpool will personally welcome the newlyweds into her humble home.”
As he listened to the man’s response, his mood darkened. After all he did for the Gornakovs, you would think their main enforcer would grant him some token of respect. Instead, the man seemed annoyed, for some reason. Angry, even.
Well, that wasn’t his concern, of course.
CHAPTER 15
Ariel leaned her head against Dimi’s shoulder and waited for the inevitable. They were seated on the balcony, waiting for Roman. She’d only met the man once, and their meeting hadn’t gone well. She remembered how he’d dragged her in, kicking and screaming, then locked her in the bedroom. But unlike before, she now wanted to make a good impression. She knew her life depended on it.
She dreaded the moment. Would she be able to bear up under his scrutiny? Would she be able to satisfy his outrageous demands?
Staring out at the Moscow skyline for the last time, she felt sorry she hadn’t been able to go out and explore the city—at least visit the Kremlin or go shopping in the Tverskaya Street.
Though Dimi had been tempted to allow the trip, he’d finally decided against it. She could escape and ruin all his carefully laid out plans. In spite of the fact that she’d promised to behave from now on, and not endanger her own life or that of Dimi and his family, she still hadn’t fully earned his trust.
“Do you think your brother hates me?” she asked softly.
“I don’t think he hates you as much as he hates what you represent.”
“My father.”
“Roman is a loyal soldier to the Gornakovs, and whoever tries to hurt them, automatically becomes his enemy.”
She understood. Of course she did. But then again, as far as she knew, these Gornakovs were some of the worst scum walking the face of the earth. If her father had risked leaving his family to bring them down, he must have felt it was necessary to do so. Which made her detest them all the more.
“Do you hate me, Dimi?”
He looked over, and when she saw the hurt in his eyes, she knew the answer before he had even spoken. He touched a hand to her face, then shook his head, his brows knitted. “I don’t hate you, Ariel. I could never hate you.”
“Not even for my father?”
“I wasn’t even around when all this happened, remember? I was just a wet-nosed kid hanging on my mother’s skirt, while Roman was running with the big boys already.”
She forgot. Roman was ten years Dimi’s senior. Dimi had looked up to his big brother, and when he was old enough to decide on a vocation, had followed in Roman’s footst
eps, going to work for the Gornakovs.
“Have you done a lot of bad things, Dimi?” she suddenly wanted to know.
She’d seen the calloused hands, the tattoos on his forearms, Cyrillic symbols she didn’t know the meaning of, and had seen how hard he could be, how ruthless.
He smiled, and it was as if the sun broke through the clouds. “Define bad.” Then, growing serious, he nodded, grasping her hand in his, and lacing his fingers through hers in a gesture of tenderness. “I’ve done my share of bad things, yes. But let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about you instead.” He fingered a lock of her hair and tugged it gently. “What made you become a legal secretary?”
She smiled. “So you read up on me, huh?”
“My brother has an entire file on you.”
The notion that someone had been poking into her private affairs disconcerted her to a degree, and the moment the frown appeared on her brow, he apologized. “It’s not that you said it,” she explained. “It’s just that you seem to know everything about me, yet I don’t know the first thing about you.”
He spread his arms. “What do you want to know? I’m an open book.”
The fact that he’d told her so little made it clear that was a blatant lie, and it reminded her they were treading on very thin ice here. “Why did you want to become an enforcer for the Russian mob?”
He stared up at the sky, his mood now pensive. “I think it was watching Roman all my life. The way he conducts himself, his poise and his inner strength. I always thought he was the most interesting man I knew, and wanted to be exactly like him. All my life I looked up to my big brother.” He gestured with his hand. “And then there were the fancy cars he drove around in, the gorgeous women he dated, the expensive clothes, the posh apartment, the wealth and power he exuded. Quite a heady mix for a young man just starting out in life.” He shrugged. “I guess I thought his way of life was the only way. No competition.”
“And what did your parents think about you following in his footsteps?”