Hers To Keep: THE QUINTESSENCE COLLECTION I

by Akeroyd, Serena

  “You’re nervous?”

  Vasily’s question had her frowning. “No. Not really.”

  “That’s unusual. You know his past, da?”

  “I do,” she admitted.

  “So you know what I was?” No shame. No fear littered his voice.

  “Da,” she told him in Russian.

  “You’re not afraid?”

  Maybe she should have been but... “I have faith in Andrei.”

  Vasily grinned. “Good answer.” He patted her hand as he led her to a car that was hovering outside the entrance in a spot that should have had him ticketed in an instant.

  Instead, the engine was running. Torrents of steam cascaded out of the fender as the air collided with the frigid cold.

  She couldn’t see much. It was still dark, and though the streetlamps illuminated the roads and the parking areas, it didn’t particularly improve visibility. She couldn’t see far ahead, couldn’t see if Russia was white with snow in the distance or just frigid with cold.

  A man hopped out of the car wrapped in a scarf that covered his nose and opened the passenger seat for them. Vasily held her hand as she slid in, then he came next, followed by Andrei.

  The door closed, and then she felt the car shift as coat man and the driver climbed in too.

  As the engine started, the warmth hit her, and she snuggled into her cozy coat, wiggling her toes as they started to defrost.

  “Cafe Pushkin?” Andrei asked.

  Vasily nodded. “Best place. They make the good coffee,” he told her.

  Andrei reached for her hand. “That means he likes you,” he teased. “If he hadn’t, he’d have taken you somewhere else.”

  Vasily scoffed. “Don’t tell her all my secrets.”

  She chuckled, but was content to snuggle against Andrei’s side and let the men talk. It was kind of them to stay in English, but she dozed off to the sounds of them reverting to Russian.

  When she next awoke, daylight was slipping through the cracks but it was still dark-ish.

  “What time is it?” she asked around a yawn.

  “Eight,” Andrei told her, turning his head to kiss her temple. “You had about twenty minutes’ sleep. We’re almost there.”

  She smiled, content to just rest there, leaning against him, until she had to move. Fatigue after the journey was hitting her. She hadn’t slept on the plane, had instead messed around on her phone while Andrei read a book he’d packed.

  She hated to admit it, but Vasily was probably right to suggest they eat then get some rest.

  Now she was here though, she wanted to see the sights. Moscow had never been on her ‘to-visit’ list but that didn’t mean she wasn’t about to take full advantage of it.

  When they pulled up outside a well-lit street, she peered out onto the sidewalk.

  The building was old. Wide, two stories, but beautifully maintained. Bricks the size of A3 paper were stacked perfectly, gray-blue grout separated the yellowy cream tiles, and sash windows that matched the grout gleamed in the still-lit streetlights.

  A black and gold sign hovered above the door, which was bracketed by a low cast-iron fence. Above the door, there was a window with a small Juliet balcony lined with balustrades. Grand black lanterns were fixed to the walls, giving the whole place a grandeur that caught her breath.

  The cold outside did the same thing. She jerked in shock to go from the warm interior to the bitterness of the street. Andrei laughed as she snuggled against him.

  “You don’t get used to it,” he promised her.

  Vasily poopoohed that “Your blood has thinned.”

  Sascha snorted. “Thinned? London isn’t exactly warm.”

  Andrei murmured, “To him, it is.”

  “I feel no cold,” Vasily declared, fist pumping the air and making Sascha laugh at his antics.

  The guy was a mob boss but acted like Popeye post-spinach.

  She grinned at the notion as they walked to the entrance, and the door popped open, a smiling man awaiting them.

  What happened next had her both bewildered and enchanted as they stepped into what was, Andrei informed her after they took a seat, a nobleman’s house that had been transformed into a coffee shop. Sascha had never seen anything like it in her life.

  They passed through rooms with ornate bookcases, lined with so many leather-bound volumes she wanted to weep. The moldings on the wall panels were exquisite, the floor beneath her feet a glorious parquet that gleamed with the patina of age and thousands of footsteps.

  Old-fashioned lights illuminated the cafe, and were necessary in the gloomy morning light. A huge globe sectioned off one side of the room from another, its wooden and paper decoration made her gasp at the antique.

  There were dozens of tables as they passed through rooms. Each organically placed. Beside a bookcase here, next to a window there. They fit in, rather than stand out, amid the ornate fireplaces that flickered with fire, the grand staircases that led to an old-fashioned bar top.

  Each room had a different color scheme. Red, blue, cream... they were guided to a green and white room, to a table beside the window where a Grandfather clock ticked merrily away behind them.

  “This is amazing,” she whispered as she took a seat, still awestruck by how incredible this place was.

  Vasily, looking pleased as punch, took a seat as their server held out his arm for the old man’s coat. Andrei helped her out of hers too, then passed theirs onto the server. With all the coats piled in his arms, he looked like he was wearing a bear just as Vasily’s man had earlier at the airport. Or whatever poor animal had died to keep them warm. A thought that had her grimacing with guilt.

  She gawked around as Vasily murmured, “This girl has good taste.”

  The coffee shop was quite busy. As they’d walked through it, she’d seen dozens of tables filled with hungry mouths waiting to be fed. But in their section, it was dead.

  Andrei caught her eye and smiled. “Grandfather doesn’t like to be watched when he’s eating.”

  The man’s power had her flinching, but Andrei understood as he pressed his hand to her knee and squeezed.

  That Vasily had the kind of weight to pull…? Well, that told her ‘retired’ or not, exactly who she was dealing with.

  Vasily huffed. “I don’t want someone watching me slurp my coffee. Drink, by the way. I told them to have it waiting.”

  She peered down at the cups which had indeed been waiting for them. A logo of some sort that reminded her of the mathematical symbol for Pi—which told her she’d been hanging around Devon, Andrei, and Sawyer for way too long—had been dusted into the foam on top of hers. Little pots with white sugar cubes and tablets of what looked like brown sugar had dainty pincers nestled amid them.

  Vasily took a sip and sighed. “That’s better.”

  Andrei drank his own black coffee and murmured, “Yes. That is.” He grinned, rubbed his hands together after he put the cup down. “It’s good to be home.”

  Vasily mumbled something in Russian that had Andrei biting back, but she knew they were just bickering—something she was used to after living with five men for close to six months.

  “Boys, do I have to knock some heads together?”

  Her words cut through their friendly ripostes, and Vasily hooted. “She has fire! I like her!”

  Andrei rolled his eyes, then murmured, “We’re off to a good start then.”

  Vasily grinned. “Sascha, this is my favorite place. I come here on special occasions so my grandson is teasing. He knows I like you or I wouldn’t have brought you here.”

  “You barely know me!” she retorted a little flustered.

  “Any woman who puts that smile on his lips has my approval,” he told her with a roguish wink that had her blushing. “Plus, that dress is a sight for an old man’s eyes.”

  “Pervert,” Andrei barked from behind his coffee cup.

  “I’m not dead, Andrei.”

  The rueful retort had her snickering as she sipped
her incredibly strong coffee. The doctor’s warning not to drink caffeine had her stumped for a while, but she took a few more sips then decided enough was enough.

  “I can see why it’s your favorite place... it’s remarkable.”

  “We’re on Tverskoy Boulevard,” he informed her. “It opened up in the 18th century and was a popular place for Moscow’s elite to stroll around.” He beamed a smile. “My favorite poet, Alexander Pushkin, is who it is named for. It is said this area inspired his work.”

  She blinked. “So this isn’t his home?”

  “No. But it once was a nobleman’s mansion,” Andrei murmured.

  And so began the most bizarre breakfast she’d ever had. They peppered her with facts about the area as she dined on a meal that was more than just breakfast.

  She switched to hot chocolate and munched on honey cake after eating rye blinis with salty slivers of salmon. Andrei fed her tidbits from his plate; poached eggs with a shrimp bisque, and even Vasily let her experience sturgeon caviar for the first time on buckwheat blinis.

  It was like no other breakfast she’d had, and all the more amazing for the location.

  “You two argue a lot,” she murmured, feeling sated and sleepy again after eating a veritable feast of weird flavors for the first meal of the day.

  She wasn’t sure if it was something she could get into, but technically this was supper as she hadn’t really rested yet, right?

  Vasily cast her a look. “We don’t argue. We debate.”

  After having heard them discussing an IPO for the past ten minutes, she had to snort. “Debate? You play with words too well, Vasily.”

  He grinned, displaying teeth that were definitely false and gleamed white in his leathery face. “No one can keep up with me save for this young fool.”

  Andrei rolled his eyes. “We both know Sean can too.”

  Vasily wagged his fingers. “You have a point, but not in Russian.” To her, he told her, “We speak English for you, but later, when you come to visit my house, we will shout and yell in Russian. You mustn’t be scared. It is just our way.” A tender smile softened the harsh lines of his face. “His grandmother used to raise hell at us. Said we sounded like we were hollering at one another from the other side of the Berlin Wall.”

  She saw the glint in his eyes that spoke of tears; for a guy who ran the Bratva, he was free with his emotions. Still, deciding to save an old man’s pride, she tilted her head to the side and asked, “We’re not staying with you?”

  Andrei answered, “No. I want you to stay in the city center.”

  “Why?”

  “Grandfather lives out of the city. I want you to see Moscow.”

  She blinked. “Oh. Well, next time we visit, I’m fine with staying with Vasily. You don’t see him enough as it is.”

  Andrei’s grandfather beamed, and Sascha had more confirmation that she had a new fan.

  As they left the cafe, she knew she’d be asking Andrei to bring her here again before they left. The place was magical in that it made her feel like she was back in the 18th century. But, she was very grateful she wasn’t... heating in these temperatures? What a bitch.

  Shuddering as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, she saw there were two cars waiting for them this time.

  Vasily kissed her cheek and told her he’d see her later as he headed for his car, and Andrei guided her to the other.

  The instant their door closed, they were swept away, and once again, she was reminded of his grandfather’s position. How couldn’t she be when everything ran so smoothly?

  “He’s powerful, isn’t he?”

  The question didn’t seem to surprise her partner. “Yes. He’s no longer as involved as he once was, but he has very important friends in the government. He helps them, and they grease the wheels.”

  Her lips curved. “I like him.”

  “I’m glad.”

  His simple answer had her reaching for his hand.

  “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  “You’re welcome. I wanted you to have a break.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ve been through a lot recently.”

  She cocked a brow at him. “That the only reason?”

  “You’ve had an attempt on your life, endured a concussion for too long, discovered things about your past that would fell anyone... you needed a break.”

  “Devon and you have worse pasts.”

  “This isn’t a competition,” he told her softly. “I wish you hadn’t had to go through what you did, moy meeliy.”

  She blinked. “That’s the first time you’ve done that.”

  “Done what?”

  “Called me something in Russian. What does it mean?”

  His lips twitched. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

  Snorting, she turned to look out the window and what she saw was both impressive and bleak. It was cold. That was it. Her first impression. It just looked so damn frigid. Then, when she looked past that, she saw the grand buildings, the elegant and huge pieces of architecture that were astonishing to the eye.

  If she wasn’t used to Tucson and London, the sheer mass of space would have astonished her. Then, after driving around the streets for twenty minutes—a detour for her benefit, she assumed—it started to impress her more and more.

  How anything or anyone worked in these temperatures was a feat worthy of Merlin.

  As eye-opening as it was, by the time they made it to the hotel, she was dead on her feet. She barely noticed the beautiful 19th century interior, was just grateful there was an elevator.

  A porter carried their small bags and opened the doors with flair. She stepped inside, took a quick glance around, and then froze in place.

  A smile widened her lips and relief and love came with her delight.

  Her men were there.

  All of them.

  Devon was laying flat out on the bed, a notepad in hand and a pencil tucked behind both ears as well as one in his fingers. Sawyer was slouched on an armchair reading. Kurt sat at a desk, fiendishly writing something on his computer. Sean was working on his laptop too in front of a large, fire-filled hearth.

  At the sight of them, so comfortable and at ease, her heart burst with love for them.

  Now, she could relax. Now, she could enjoy herself because wherever these five were, she was home. And home was all she needed to handle anything life threw at her.

  Even impromptu ‘meet the family’ visits to Moscow.

  Andrei came to a stop behind her, and pulling her hair aside, he pressed a kiss to her throat. “Good to be home?”

  She shot him a look, astonished that he’d read her mind. He just smiled, and like that, her world fell into place.

  Sascha pressed a hand to her stomach, a smile blossoming on her face at how perfect this moment was. “Guys,” she said huskily. “I have something to tell you...”

  * * *

  "Babies crap a lot," Devon blurted out.

  Sascha stifled a giggle. "No. You don't say."

  He frowned. The giggle said she was teasing, but... "They do," he tried warning her again. Adding, "A lot. Sawyer's cousin Jenna keeps having them. Jacinta makes us go to the christenings."

  "So?"

  "So, I see them crap a lot."

  "What? In the actual ceremony? The babies take a dump in the font?" She snorted, admitting, "I'd probably pay to see that."

  He grimaced, conceding, "No. I've never seen them do that, but they will after. They cry too."

  "Yeah. I know," she told him, in the tone she used when she was trying to reassure him. "Babies do a lot of that. Crying, pissing, shitting, eating. Then they get interesting."

  "Oh, I know that too," Devon confirmed. "I just wasn't sure if you did."

  "Did what?"

  "Knew they got interesting."

  She scowled at him. "Wait, I'm confused." She went so far as to rub her temple, an act that had her hand shifting from his stomach and moving away—something he
didn't like. He immediately reached for her other hand and bridged their fingers.

  "He's scared you're going to run away. Again." Andrei huffed and rolled over away from them. "How many times, Devon? She isn't going anywhere."

  "That much of a sure bet, am I?" Sascha said, but even Devon heard the teasing note in her voice.

  Andrei grunted then yawned. They were all bound to be feeling the effects of the jet lag, but he and Andrei were going to be a lot more tired than the others... Sascha really could be insatiable sometimes. Apparently dropping huge bombshells made her horny. Who knew?

  "Don't make it worse," Andrei warned, squinting at them over his shoulder. "He's already scared you're leaving us because you're a billionaire."

  She stilled. "Why would you think that? And I'm not a billionaire. Just on paper."

  "Paper counts for a lot," Devon argued. "Billionaires aren't like Scrooge McDuck. They don't have vaults of gold to surf on—"

  "How the hell do you know who Scrooge McDuck is?"

  Her gawking insulted him. "I watched TV as a child too, you know. I still do. Just not often. But that's neither here nor there... I'm not worried anymore."

  "Why?" She studied him a second. "What changed?"

  "Because you're pregnant. That means you're stuck with us."

  She snorted. "You don't have to sound so satisfied about it."

  His grin, he'd admit, was definitely smug. "Why not? I am. Very satisfied. Even if you get sick of us or if we all turn into hermits and bore you to death, you'll always be linked to us."

  She rolled over onto her side so she could better look at him—her hand came out to tilt his head down, and for a moment, her thumb stroked his chin with a gentleness that had him sighing in contentment. "That matters to you? That I'm always linked to you?"

  "Of course." It was his turn to look confused. "Wasn't that obvious, Andrei?"

  "Da, it was."

  Andrei sounded half asleep and not exactly convincing.

  Devon worried his bottom lip with his fingers, but Sascha reached for his wrist and stilled his hand.

  "Why does it matter?"

  How did he explain it to her?

  The others used the words 'I love you' like they were the cure for cancer or the solution for world peace.