Her Russian Billionaire

by Theodora Taylor

Something in his tone alerted Eva that this wasn’t just a strange situation, but a possibly dangerous one. Her mind scrambled, trying to figure out if she should stay there and listen or run for her life. But in the end, her curiosity won out. “Okay, I can be quiet,” she said.

  This Michael translated, and Sergei nodded before folding his large hands on the table in front of him and speaking in large chunks, stopping every five sentences or so to let Michael translate:

  “You may be a nice girl. I don’t know. I don’t care. Russia is not like America. We are not so enthusiastic about the races mixing. If Alexei were to bring you home, it will not be good for the Rustanov family. People would ask us, what is this? I do not want Alexei with an American girl, especially not a black one.”

  Growing up in a mostly white Texas town, Eva had encountered her share of racism, but never anything quite this straightforward and blatant. She opened her mouth but Michael shook his head and tapped a warning finger against his lips twice. The protest died as something told her she should keep her mouth closed, even if Sergei was saying he didn’t want Alexei and her to be together because of her nationality and even more so, the color of her skin. There was something about this man. He seemed to be everything people thought her Lexie was, almost casually dangerous to the point that she had no problem imagining him pulling out a gun and shooting her for being disrespectful.

  “Alexei did you a disservice,” Michael continued, picking up as if they hadn’t had the silent exchange behind Sergei’s back. “He should have told you about me, about his family. The reason we argue every week is because Alexei is supposed to be the head of our family now that his father has died. He wastes his time with unnecessary schooling when he should be back in Russia taking his rightful place. Another reason we have been arguing is because he says he would like to stay on in America after he graduates. He says he would like to work for a regular business as an executive. He says instead of serving his family as he was raised to do, he now wishes to live a normal life. I will not let this happen.”

  Despite how weirded out she was by this entire situation, Eva’s heart soared. She had been worried about how they were going to make it work after Alexei graduated next year and she was delighted to hear Alexei had already started making plans.

  She had half a mind to disobey his edict to stay quiet and tell him Alexei was a grown man and he couldn’t stop him from going down his own path or being with her. But that was when Michael brought out a laptop and flipped it open. “He wants me to show you this.”

  The screen lit up to a picture of a man in a dripping wet suit, skin bloated, eyes glassy with death. It was obvious his throat had been slit and from the looks of his chest, someone had put a bullet or two into him as well. Seeing one picture of a dead body was horrifying enough, but then Michael pushed a button and a whole slideshow of dead bodies started. There were pictures of men ranging in age from eighteen to sixty, all dead. Not all of them had been dumped in water, but they all had slit throats and chest wounds, and there were a few full body shots that also revealed blown out kneecaps. The slideshow went on for several minutes with at least fifty pictures flashing across the screen until it finally, mercifully stopped on a picture of a young, blond businessman, his eyes still wide with horror, his neck slit with two distinct bullet wounds in his chest.

  Sergei began speaking again with Michael translating. “Because you are keeping our dear Alexei from fulfilling his duties, the Rustanovs now consider you our enemy. This is what our family does to our enemies, what we’re known for. And these are only the most blatant things we do. Sometimes our enemies die quietly, in car accidents, or they have falls from windows, or maybe drink a cup of tea, only to find out it has been poisoned.”

  Eva froze in abject fear. It was her habit to drink tea as opposed to coffee. Sergei said something else in Russian. Michael nodded and looked up at her. “Now he says you can speak.”

  She shook her head. “This isn’t Alexei. I might not have known where he came from, but I know he would never do something like this.”

  Michael translated and to her surprise, Sergei chuckled. He pointed to the picture of the blond businessman and said something in Russian, his eyes twinkling like a proud papa.

  Michael translated, “This is Alexei’s handiwork. He hunted this man down and killed him. When he was only eighteen.”

  “Eva,” Alexei said.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head, not wanting to believe but seeing in his uncle’s eyes that it was true.

  “Here is what you will do,” Michael said, translating for Sergei. “You will leave Alexei. You will do it tonight before he gets home. You will leave him a note. Make it convincing or there will be severe repercussions.”

  “Eva,” Alexei said again.

  “No,” Eva said, “I can’t. I can’t.”

  Michael leaned forward. “I am speaking as myself now. Everything Sergei has told you is true. If you lived in Russia, you’d know about the Rustanov Family. You do not want to cross this man. Even if you tell Alexei, he won’t be able to protect you from his uncle. Sergei is too powerful and he wants his nephew back in the fold. Don’t be a fool. Alexei may be fantasizing about leading a normal life with you, but he killed a man in this way when he was just eighteen. He obviously belongs with his family.”

  Eva’s eyes went back to the picture of the dead man.

  “Eva!” Hands grabbed her shoulders and shook her.

  She came awake, for real this time, only to find Alexei Rustanov himself standing above her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  EVA shrieked and shot up in bed, scrambling to the other side to put distance between her and the man she’d just found out was a cold-blooded killer. But then she slowly realized….It had been a dream. She hadn’t just found out Alexei was the soon-to-be head of the Rustanov family. No, that had happened eight years ago.

  She put her hand over her racing heart, willing it to calm down. Wow, she hadn’t had that dream in a while. It had paid her a weekly visit for the first few months after she broke up with Alexei, and then it had kicked in daily after she gave birth to Aaron. For a while, she had been constantly looking over her shoulder, wondering if every unmarked car was following her, refusing to drink tea for fear Sergei Rustanov would figure out a way to poison her despite acquiescing to his demands, just because she existed, just because she had dared to get involved with his nephew and had then not taken the abortion option when she found out she was pregnant.

  It had almost been a relief when her father called two years after Aaron’s birth and said her mother was ready to retire and she could have the job if she wanted it. No, her parents hadn’t exactly completely forgiven her, but at least she knew just about everyone in Drummond. It would be easier for Sergei Rustanov to track her there if he wanted to, but it would take an awful lot of work to kill or have her killed without anyone noticing. In a high-density city like Dallas, it would have been easy to pick her off and make it look like an accident. But in a small town like Drummond, you couldn’t leave a glob of spit on the sidewalk without everyone knowing it was you who’d done it. And all strangers were duly noted, which would make it hard for even a Russian mafia boss to get rid of her without raising suspicions.

  But Sergei hadn’t found her. From what she could tell after having his people clean her stuff out of Alexei’s apartment and deliver it to Layla’s, he hadn’t even bothered to keep tabs on her. Alexei returned to Russia and became the head of the Rustanov empire, just as his uncle had wanted. Years passed and she started to believe maybe everything would be okay. Then more years passed and she began to believe everything was okay.

  And it had been, until she ran into Alexei at Layla’s wedding. Who knew he’d still be so angry at her for dumping him the way she had? Who knew he’d still have the exact same effect on her, as if eight years and one son hadn’t happened since the last time they seen each other?

  Now he stood on the opposite side of the bed, already dressed
in a linen suit with an unreadable expression on his face. “You are scared of me now,” he said. It was a statement not a question.

  “No, I just…” She scrambled to shore up her nerves and become the person she needed to be for the next two weeks in order to get Drummond, Aaron, and herself out of this mess. “I’m just not used to being shaken awake. I was surprised.”

  “You were saying, ‘no, no,’ and you were crying. That is why I shook you.”

  “Was I?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light. “I must have been having a nightmare.”

  “But you do not remember it?”

  She didn’t have to remember it, she’d lived it. “Not exactly,” she said.

  “Did it have anything to do with last night?”

  She finally got where this line of conversation was leading. “Oh, you think, because we—“ She broke off not quite knowing how to describe what they had done last night. “No, I told you. That was closure.”

  She peeped up at him, hating that she actually cared about the answer to her next question. “Did it help? Do you feel better?”

  He gave her a short nod. “How did you know to use that tactic with me?”

  “You make it sound like we’re two business opponents. It wasn’t a tactic. Closure is what I do for a living.”

  She settled back on her knees. “One of my first big cases after I moved back to Drummond was writing up a Red Cross report for this one man whose deli had mysteriously burned down one night. This guy was a nightmare, up in my office every day, demanding I have the electrician double-check all the outlets to make sure they hadn’t caused the fire. Then the next day he’d want me to go interview Mr. Peterson—he owns a small grocery store down the street from the deli—to see if maybe it was foul play, like I was one of those TV detectives or something. Then he’d be back in my office again, talking about how the landlord’s wife looked at him funny in Bible Study, and now he thinks they might have done it in order to get the insurance payout. I interviewed everybody and checked and rechecked. And finally we got the report back. I called him to my office to tell him it was definitely faulty wiring. I thought he’d be upset it was such a little thing, but instead he starts crying. This guy hunts with my daddy, and he was sitting in my office, blubbering like a baby. And then he thanked me like I had saved his life or something. Believe it or not, I’m still on his Christmas card list. You see, the thing was, I thought he wanted somebody to blame for the fire, but all he really wanted was an explanation. That’s all he needed to let what happened go. And that’s kind of the main point of my job, giving people closure, even when they don’t realize they need it.”

  He stared at her so long, she began to grow uncomfortable.

  “What?” she asked.

  He rounded the bed and came to sit on her side of it. “I was wrong about who you were as a girlfriend, but I was right about your career prospects. You are very good at what you do.”

  Her face grew warm, and she found herself turning around to sit next to him on the bed. “Thank you. My daddy is technically my supervisor, so I’m not used to getting compliments about the work I do for the community. Usually he’s grousing about how I didn’t do that and why can’t I make it easier for him to do this and why can’t I do everything I do faster, cheaper, and better.”

  “You do not like your job?” he asked.

  “No, I like it. I just kind of wish I did it somewhere else, with someone else who didn’t continue to think I was a disgrace, no matter how much I do for Drummond.”

  She realized her mistake before the last words were out her mouth.

  “Why does he think you are a disgrace?” he asked, his eyes narrowing in the way they used to whenever he was ready to spring to her defense.

  She waved it off and shrugged. “Small-town dads aren’t like the ones in New York. I wasn’t married and popping out babies by a certain age so he considers me a disgrace. I could find a cure for cancer and Daddy would still think I was less than, because I’m not married with children.”

  “So this Aaron refuses to marry you.”

  Eva’s mouth twisted. Of course, Alexei would be more concerned with his perceived competition in this story. “I told you we’re not talking about him.”

  “Did he ask you to marry him and you refused, or has he simply not asked you to marry him? Perhaps you have not been dating long enough?”

  “You promised.”

  “I promised not to search for him or tell him about us. Questions were not included in the deal. What would you say if he did ask you to marry him?”

  “Fine, I’ll change the subject. I’m hungry. Can we order some breakfast? Or better yet, go out and get some? As nice as this place is, I wouldn’t mind seeing the rest of the hotel.”

  “No, we will stay here and continue our conversation,” he said. “I am finding I like denying your requests.”

  Despite her plan to rise above Alexei’s petulance, irritation flared up inside of her and unleashed her tongue. “So that’s how it’s going to be? We’re going to continue to carp at each other for the next two weeks? Wonderful. While we’re at it, can we also make each other miserable with petty questions and denials of reasonable requests, because I think that would really take this vacation to the next level for both of us.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “I understand reverse psychology now, Eva. Also, sarcasm.”

  “Oh, goody,” she answered, her voice dripping with it.

  “As for the next level…” He took her left hand and placed it on his cock, which was thick and hard underneath the linen of his pants, “Do not pretend to not know what you do to me.”

  She shook her head, even as her heart sped up in her chest and she suddenly became very aware that while he was fully dressed, she was sitting there stark naked. “That’s not me,” she informed him. “That’s your thirst for revenge. I’m just a warm body, a representation of your past, something else you need to conquer, like the American business market. Don’t pretend it’s me that’s got you all revved up.”

  He gave her a strange look. “Is that really what you think?”

  “That woman you were with at the party looked like a supermodel, and she’s into threesomes.”

  He kept his hand covering hers on top of his dick. “This is the third time you have brought her up. For someone who does not want to talk about her love life, you seem very interested in mine.”

  “I’m not,” she assured him, because she totally was.

  He leaned over and ran his lips along her neckline, causing her uncovered breasts to swell with desire. “What would you like to know, Eva? Tell me.”

  “I don’t want to know anything,” she answered, trying to ignore the skittering spikes of pleasure his kisses were sending through her nervous system. “I don’t care. I’m only here because of your revenge fantasy.”

  “But you nodded when I asked if you wanted to be with me in a sexual way.”

  “Yes, I nodded, but only because I didn’t believe you would really be okay with us hanging out for two weeks without sex. It was a concession to end the stupid argument.”

  “Do not lie to me, Eva. I forbid it from now on.”

  It was a total lie, so she stayed quiet and held herself as stiff as a woman possibly could with a very sexy man kissing and licking on her neck. Eventually he stopped with an annoyed growl. “Fine,” he said. “Get showered and dressed. We will go out to lunch.”

  “Lunch?” She glanced at the bedside clock and saw that, indeed, it was now past noon. Nauseous guilt assailed her when she realized she had taken more than twelve hours to return Aaron’s phone call.

  “Yes, “ he removed her hand from his groin like it was a dead fish. “We will talk and not fuck and get to know each other.”

  She was still reeling in confusion less than an hour later when she walked into the The R’s eponymous flagship restaurant with Alexei. The tables were set with white linens and crystal table service, but no one but the hostess and two waiters
were there.

  “Right this way,” the hostess said, showing them to a two-top that looked directly out to the beach where families, college students, couples, and businessmen were having fun in the sun. The hostess indicated two waiters in black and white uniforms standing just a few feet away. “Franklin and Don will be your servers today. Please let them know whenever you’re ready to order.”

  She squinted at the menu, which featured a mix of salads, fish, steaks, and other gourmet entrees. “Where is everybody?”

  “This restaurant is technically not open for lunch,” he answered, still studying his menu. “It is only us.”

  “Another awesome display of your power. Good job,” she said, tossing aside the menu.

  He glanced up from his. “Why do your compliments always feel like insults?”

  She lowered her voice. “Because everything you do seems designed to show me what a mistake it was to dump you. Listen, Alexei, I get it. I was wrong to dump you the way I did. And trust me, if I had known you would become a bajillionaire and then blackmail me into coming down here, I wouldn’t have done it.” She folded her arms, thinking back to the night she found out who he really was, what he was capable of, and whispered. “If I had known any of it, I wouldn’t have gotten involved with you in the first place.”

  Now he put down his menu, but held up his hand when one of the waiters tried to approach the table. Behind him, the man took the silent command and immediately resumed his waiting position.

  “So you regret our time together?” Alexei asked. There was not a trace of warmth in his cold, green stare.

  “How do you want me to answer that? Like me now, or the old me?”

  “Like you now.”

  “Me now has worked really hard to become a better person,” she said carefully. “I made a lot of mistakes when I was younger, but I’ve spent the last eight years trying to help people, and to make up for those mistakes, but somehow it never seems to be enough. Me now wants to get these two weeks over with, and then maybe move away from Drummond, away from Texas, to some place where no one knows me or sits in continuous judgment of me for stuff that happened a long time ago.”