by Nic Saint
“But how—why—how—” she stuttered.
“The hows and why are better left to my newly appointed second-in-command, Miss Liverpool. The man who will be overseeing the American end of the Gornakov conglomerate.” He looked up as a man stepped into the room. “Ah, and there he is, right on time. Meet my new business manager, Miss Liverpool.”
Dora’s eyes lifted and found themselves captured by dark pools of hazel as Roman Loginovsky walked up to her, an enigmatic smile on his lips.
“Hello, Dora,” he muttered by way of greeting.
Dora’s jaw dropped before her professional pride kicked in and she snapped her mouth closed again, remembering no one likes a woman who looks like a fish.
CHAPTER 24
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” announced Yulian Gornakov, striding to the door. “I have a meeting with Nathan Callaway, so I won’t be back until late this afternoon.” He turned around with a cheeky grin. “Do try not to make a mess of things in my absence, you two.” Then he added, “Nice to have made your acquaintance, Miss Liverpool. I look forward to seeing you on the stage very soon.”
And with these surprising words, he swept from the room, leaving a stunned Dora staring after him.
“What—what’s going on?” she stammered. “What does he mean, back on the stage?”
Roman took a seat next to her on the couch. “He means soon your name will light up Broadway again. It is what you want, yes?”
“Yes, but…” She was so confused she could hardly formulate a clear sentence. “But I’m wanted by the Mob, right? They’re trying to shoot me and stab me and, and…”
He took her hand and pressed it lightly. “That is done, Dora. No one will come after you.”
“But they just did!” she vociferated. “That ratty little guy tried to kill me on the bus just now! If it hadn’t been for that woman, you’d be talking to a corpse right now!”
“Lidiya,” he nodded. “I asked her to keep an eye on you.” His face darkened. “FBI man should never have left you unprotected. Fool went for coffee and donut.”
“Yeah, good thing your girlfriend was there,” she said, electricity arcing up her arm at his touch, her heart turning somersaults at his proximity.
He fingered her hand gently, rubbing his thumb over her palm. “She’s not my girlfriend, honey. Never was. I’m married man, remember?”
His eyes were smoldering now, and she felt a twitch of heat skip through her body at both his touch and gaze. “But what about the ratty little man?”
Roman shrugged. “We just took over. There is lot of confusion. Yulian is here to restructure the business. I will remove the bad elements. Working with Nathan Callaway, all criminals will face justice.”
“You and this Yulian, you’ve known each other long?”
Roman smiled. “We grew up together. Yulian is like second brother.”
“But I thought he wasn’t interested in the family business?”
“He was not. Yulian hates crime. Hates violence. We talked. I told him to make the business legit. Like Vitaly’s friend Bogdan. He agreed. I will take care of American part of business. Atone for my sins. Work with American government.” He gave her an earnest look that melted her heart. “Time to turn over new leaf.”
If he was going to head up the American end of Yulian Gornakov’s business empire, he would have to work on his English, she thought. Then she figured she could help him with that, if he’d let her. They could conjugate together. Or do other stuff… “So… Dimitri and Ariel can come out of hiding?”
“Yes.” He gestured at the room, an all-encompassing sweep of the hand. “We can all come out of hiding now.” He pressed her hand and gazed into her eyes. “No one will hurt you anymore, Dora.”
“Thank you. You’re my hero, you know that?”
He shrugged. “Everything for the people I love.”
At the mention of the word, her heart stopped. “The people… you love?”
“Yes,” he acknowledged, his dark eyes projecting tenderness all of a sudden. “You, Dora.”
She swallowed a little uncertainly, eyes wide. “You… love me?”
“I do. You did not know this?”
“How could I?” she returned softly. “You never told me.”
“I thought it was clear,” he murmured, feathering a kiss down her palm, then to the tips of her fingers. “I adore you, Dora Liverpool. I adore you since I meet you in your apartment in the middle of night. Then I drag you to Vegas to be my bride.”
His warmth radiating through her, kindling her soul, she whispered, “I love you, too, Roman.” For the first time, she knew she did. She’d been afraid to acknowledge the fact, but now she wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
As he kissed his way up her throat, then slowly ran his hands along her sides, he eased her into his arms, and she melted against him. When he claimed her lips for a devastating kiss, it was full of warmth and a tenderness she hadn’t thought him capable of.
“The night I left to Moscow, I was afraid not to see you again,” he murmured against her lips. “I wanted to end war. Didn’t know how long. I wanted to ask wait for me. But couldn’t ask more sacrifice.”
“I would have waited for you forever,” she whispered, leaning back against the pillows as his lips did their devastating work along her collarbone, then up to her ear.
“Yulian agreed. I told him take private jet. Fly straight to America. To you.”
“Oh, Roman,” she breathed, running her fingers through his long black hair, then down to his broad back. His lips were inching down to her breasts, and her chest was heaving with the emotion of the moment and the onslaught of his touch.
Suddenly, he was kneeling before her, and holding up a small black box that seemed oddly familiar. She gazed at it, not comprehending.
When he opened the box, she found herself staring at the ring he’d bought at Tiffany’s the day they’d explored New York together. This time, her jaw dropped and she made no effort to raise it. “Dora Liverpool,” he said, “Do me honor of being my wife.”
“But we’re already married!” she blurted out, then flung a hand before her big mouth.
He grinned. “I know, but was for show. This time we marry for real. Little church around the corner. Yes?”
She clasped her hands to his shoulders and drew him in for a kiss. “Yes,” she finally murmured against his lips. “Yes, I’ll be your bride, Roman Loginovsky.”
“Thank God,” he responded surprisingly. “I thought you refuse to marry gangster.”
“Are you kidding? I can’t wait to see my parents’ faces when I bring you home with me!”
With a whoop and a holler, she was airborne when he lifted her from the couch and carried her to the bedroom, then closed the door behind them and placed her lightly on the bed.
“But, honey!” she cried. “Isn’t this Yulian’s suite?”
“Yulian talk to Nathan. Gone for hours,” he grunted. Then, with a surprisingly light touch, he peeled off her blouse and bra, and when his lips finally found her soft flesh, the skin silky to the touch, she forgot all about propriety, and surrendered to his hot kisses.
Lying back against the satin sheets, she murmured his name as he took her in a wild fury of heat and passion, their loins finally united, and the moment he rested inside her, she rejoiced, welcoming him home between her thighs with a fiery desire she’d never felt before, not even the first time they’d made love.
This was the first time, she felt, both for him and for her, and the heat rolled between them as her skin trembled and her belly shuddered with waves of delight. She clasped to his corded arms and the rippling muscles of his chest as he took her and made her his all over again. And as she lay trembling beneath him, clinging to him and crying out his name over and over again, she knew there would never be another.
There would only be Roman, for the rest of her life.
And when finally she spasmed around him, drawing his hardness deeper inside her s
hivering flesh, she drew an equal gasp from his lips, and as their eyes locked, in the throes of passion, she drew from him that which only he could give: his love, both in spirit and in flesh, pooling in her center, spreading through her body and her soul.
Her Mafia soldier had come home, and would never leave her again.
ABOUT NIC
Nic Saint is the pen name of husband and wife writing team Nicole and Nick Saint. The Saints have been writing together since 2007, initially focusing on cozy mystery books about cat sleuths and bumbling spies, later funny/scary books for kids and finally settling on what they like best: writing romance.
When they’re not tugging at the heartstrings, they enjoy their daily dose of yoga, a great movie, healthy food and a good book.
You can find us at nicsaint.com, on Facebook or Twitter.
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LINKS TO OTHER NIC SAINT BOOKS
Felicity Bell
Humorous Romantic Mystery
One Spoonful of Trouble
Russian Enforcers
Romantic Suspense
Russian Enforcer’s Reluctant Bride
Russian Enforcer’s Virgin Captive
Russian Enforcer’s Feisty Lover
Box Set (books 1-3)
Russian Enforcer’s Resistant Rescue
To Defy a Russian Billionaire
Russian Enforcer’s Burning Obsession
Russian Enforcer’s Dangerous Game
Box Set (books 4-6)
Russian Enforcer’s Royal Engagement
Standalone Novels
Contemporary Romance/Romantic Suspense
The Billionaire’s Valiant Rescue
Navy SEAL’s Virgin Lover
The Pastor’s Jezebel Lover
Billionaire Novelist’s Fiery Debutante
The Russian’s Tenacious Lover
Cozy Mystery
When in Bruges
Once Upon a Spy
Novellas
Romance
Blast From The Past
The Thorntons
Dark Romance
Scott
Roland
Jackson
William
Box Set (all four books)
Excerpt From:
RUSSIAN ENFORCER’S RESISTANT RESCUE
CHAPTER ONE
“I don’t like this, Alex,” Laura stated with a pout. “I forgot my curlers at home, my new makeup set wasn’t in the mail this morning and I managed to fry the battery on my epilator.” She flapped her arms. “And the thing was supposed to be waterproof. It said so on the box!”
She checked her look in the vanity mirror and wasn’t amused. She liked to have her straight red strands curled before a show, her pale face powdered, and those dustings of freckles carefully hidden beneath a thick layer of foundation. “I look terrible,” she sighed. “Boris will never offer me the job.”
“You look fine,” Alex assured her.
The hulking male was leaning against the doorjamb of the dressing room, his muscular arms folded across his bulging chest, his eyes scanning her until she felt a little self-conscious under his scrutiny.
“Don’t lie to me, Alex.”
“I’m not. You look fine.”
“Fine,” she grumbled, then stuck her index finger in her mouth, and pulled it out.
She noticed he was frowning. “Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“That. With the finger. I’ve seen all you girls do that.”
Blotting some of the excess lipstick from her lips with a tissue, she said, “Prevents lipstick from sticking to your teeth. Why? Are you going to start wearing lipstick now?” She eyed the hunky male from beneath thick lashes. “I wouldn’t do it if I were you, Alex. Lipstick definitely doesn’t become you.”
He didn’t smile, but then he rarely did. Just looked at her with those remarkable green eyes of his. A deep green, they were, and a girl could easily drown in those eyes. Not that she ever would. He wasn’t hers to get hooked up with. Alex Petrov was spoken for, all the girls knew that. And if they didn’t, Darlene would make damn sure they did. And since Laura wasn’t a confrontational kind of girl, she’d vowed a long time ago to steer clear of Darlene Harvey.
Even though the woman didn’t actually own The Blue Moon, she often seemed to think she did. And if she didn’t like you, she could turn downright nasty. Then the claws came out. Or the fangs. Or both. She sometimes wondered what would happen if one of the girls tried to get her flirt on with Alex Petrov. Darlene would probably squash the poor goose like an annoying little bug.
“Come on, babe,” Alex sighed. “You know Boris doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“All right, all right, keep your panties on,” she muttered, checking herself one last time. Then she turned to Alex, and cocked her head. “Second chance, and this time I want you to tell me the truth and nothing but the truth. How do I look?”
There was an odd expression on his face as he scrutinized her as only he could.
“That bad, huh?” she said, deflated. She bit her lip, ruining her lipstick in the process.
Alex shook his head. “You look perfect, Laura.”
Her face lit up with a smile. “Why, thank you. Coming from you that’s amazing praise. I don’t believe one word, but I’ll still take it.” She grinned, hoping to elicit a glimmer of a smile from her enigmatic friend.
Instead, he merely nodded curtly, then pushed himself from the doorframe in a fluid motion that showed economy of movement. He was a big man, but watching him move you would never know it. He walked with a gracefulness in his step that was a feast to the eye. As was the rest of him, of course.
Some of the girls called him dangerous. They said Alex Petrov was a stone-cold killer, but she didn’t believe a word. Showgirls will talk trash. All she knew was that she never felt fear when she was around him. He’d always treated her with kindness and respect, and had never given her cause to be afraid.
She followed him down the long corridor that led into the inner bowels of the club. Today was the day she would audition for a bigger part in the lineup, and she was adamant to nail it. Last time there’d been try-outs, Boris had picked Suzy Watts, one of Laura’s best friends. But then Suzy had gotten pregnant, and the club owner had announced her spot was up for grabs. With Suzy’s blessing, Laura figured she might just as well try out.
She was determined not to screw it up. She needed the pay increase. Badly.
They arrived at the black door behind which Boris Sarnovsky held office. She took a deep steadying breath, then turned to Alex. She didn’t know why, but suddenly found herself blurting out, “Will you wait for me?”
He studied her for a moment, his face inscrutable. She felt her breathing grow shallow and her pulse quicken when he reached out a hand and brushed a straying lock of flaming red from her brow. “Yes. I will wait for you.”
She swallowed away a lump of uneasiness. “Thank you.”
“Don’t trip when you climb the stage.”
She snorted. “Very funny. When have you ever known me to trip, huh? I’m a pro, buddy. We pros never stumble.”
She watched the lift of his shoulders, his eyes still on hers, and thought she wouldn’t mind catching a glimpse of those rolling muscles in the flesh, without the obstacle of that black shirt. She’d once offered to give him a massage, only half joking, but then Darlene had walked in, and her cheeks had turned scarlet and she’d never mentioned it again.
She took another steadying breath, adamant to put all thought of Alex Petrov’s massive body and entrancing eyes from her mind.
She had a performance to focus on.
She couldn’t afford the distraction.
Nor could she afford Darlene’s animosity.
She placed her hand on Alex’s chest, enjoying the feel of that raw male power under her fingers. Even t
hough the man was strictly off limits, she was still grateful he’d shown up on a Saturday morning to let her in. As a bouncer slash protector slash enforcer, he didn’t have to be here, yet when she’d hesitantly asked him if he could lend her some moral support, he had immediately agreed.
She then turned to face the black door. The owner of The Blue Moon had erected a private stage in his office, just for the purpose of these auditions. Once she was through that door, her fate was sealed, for better of for worse. Boris would take one glance, then decide. No second chances. She either did this right or she failed miserably. And if she did fail, there would be no going back. He would pick any of the other girls, all as eager as she was to land this promotion.
She felt Alex’s presence behind her. It did much to still her raging nerves, yet still she couldn’t bring herself to open that infernal door.
“Break a leg, Laura,” he softly intoned. She nodded, her stomach now a tangle of knots, her throat so dry she wondered if she would even be able to sing a single note.
Alex must have sensed her trepidation, for he put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder. He gave her a curt nod and one of his rare smiles. She smiled back, safe in the knowledge that he would be here when she came out, ready to catch her in case she’d fallen, and offer brief words of comfort, or celebrate her success by offering her his congratulations.
Either way, in a mere five minutes, her fate would be sealed. That was all the time Mr. Sarnovsky ever granted the girls who came up for audition.