by Kimber Chin
"Dead." They had died when she was eighteen. The loss ached down to her very bones, but she was grateful they had lasted so long. No one else had.
"Your other family?"
She knew of none. Was he trying to pawn her off on someone else? "I'm not your problem. I can take care of myself." She didn't need someone else. She wasn't a child.
"I'll do this for you." The old man turned to Maggy. Again, Tatyana and her wishes were ignored. She slid a hostile glance at the handsome man. Their arrogance would be their downfall. "We will talk to Joey Chan and she will be protected."
She will be protected. Nik stared at his grandfather. Why? Why would he bring this trouble into their home? "The family will ask questions, want to know her history." They wouldn't blindly accept a stranger.
"Will they?" His grandfather stared pointedly at him, then at Tatyana. "Not necessarily." Nik took a step further away from her, disliking the speculation in those crafty eyes. "There's one relationship in the family they wouldn't dare to question."
"You're thinking...?" Oh shit. "My fiancee?" The frizzy-haired brat? "No way in hell."
Grandfather's forehead furrowed in thought before he smiled. "Why not? It is the perfect solution."
"No one would believe it, that's why." Nik paced, thinking of an out. "Look at her." He had to be callous, for both their sakes. "No one would think I'd choose her as my wife."
"Like I'd want you to choose me." Her voice dropped so only he could hear. "Ass." He clenched his fists.
Grandfather ignored her. "For every beauty, there is an eye somewhere to see it. For every truth, there is an ear somewhere to hear it. For every love, there is a heart somewhere to receive it," he quoted Ivan Panin. "And everyone knows love is blind," he added for good measure.
"It's too fast. They'll wonder why they haven't met her before." Or why he hadn't killed her yet.
"They won't. They know you, Nikolay." They thought they did. They thought he was like his grandfather, they murmured behind his back. He wasn't. He was nothing like Grandfather.
"You keep your plans to yourself, and when you're ready, you move quickly," Grandfather said with admiration.
"He'll have to move very quickly," the Brat said, "because I'm leaving."
A wave of a heavily ringed hand and Pavel blocked the door. "Enough." Grandfather's patience was at an end. "You will accept my hospitality."
That wasn't a request. Tatyana opened her mouth, she was about to get herself killed. Nik clamped a hand over it. She bit his palm and he tightened his grip. "Why do you want this?"
This wasn't about Maggy or a favor returned. There was more to this than that.
"It's not your place to ask why."
No, it was his place to obey, blindly, like a damn dog. He was tired of that shit. Nik released Tatyana.
"He'll die." She somehow took his release as permission to speak. "You're sentencing your grandson to death."
That she assumed he couldn't defend himself irritated him. He was a grown man, not a child. "She can be my fiancee, boss." Pavel folded his arms. Nik didn't appreciate the way his number one man looked at the brat. Like he'd be only too happy to take her off his hands.
"Yes." Tatyana peered up at Pavel. "You might have better odds at survival. Are you a slow bleeder?"
"I carry a hemostatic agent with me at all times; it helps to seal traumatic wounds quickly."
Why did Pavel always have to talk like a damn doctor? Nik couldn't understand half of what the man said.
"I was told it only works if they're superficial." Tatyana had no such difficulty.
Pavel's already too-warm-for-Nik's-liking gaze on the brat heated. "Correct, but any slowing of blood loss adds seconds to a man's life.
"That's true." Tatyana gave Pavel a big smile. "If anyone is to protect me, I'd want you to do it. You might live."
Like hell. "He is not protecting you," Nik barked.
Everyone turned to stare at him, Maggy's green eyes wide, Grandfather's smile mocking.
They thought he was interested in the brat. He wasn't. "Pavel's job is to protect me," Nik clarified. It had nothing to do with her.
"I don't need protecting. I can protect myself." She was back to that again. "Take me to the Crown Hotel."
"No," Nik said in unison with Grandfather. Why was Grandfather so insistent they protect the brat? A stranger.
Or was she a stranger? Nik examined her again, slowly, thoroughly, from her flip-flop clad feet to the top of her frizzy head. When his gaze eventually returned to her face, she stuck her tongue out at him. A small pink tongue that he wanted to taste.
"The engagement will be temporary until we deal with Chan," he decided. And who knew?
The brat might also finally give him a Sergei acceptable excuse to kill that pain in the ass.
"Or until you die." The sparkle in her muddy green eyes dimmed. "Whichever comes first.
Two
"A man may be truthful yet not honest."ȄSergei Kaerta He'd die for holding her hand. Tatyana jerked, but Nikky's grip tightened. She was his fiancee, and she'd been told she'd act that way. She frowned up at his determined face.
Funny how that meant doing everything he said. "You live in the casino?"
"In the hotel." He didn't slow down, pulling her forward, as though he was afraid they'd meet someone. Considering she was clad in a giant hoodie and bloodstained pajamas, that fear might be justified. "Once I marry, I'll get a house. Until then...," His elegant shoulders lifted and fell.
"You have a suite?" That meant two bedrooms. The space needed if she was to be trapped with him.
"Yes." His thinly pressed lips relaxed into a grin. "Good, he's here." A big brute stood in the hallway, leaning against a door. "Boris."
"Boss." A respectful nod to Nikky. Not that the ass deserved respect. He didn't.
"She's your assignment." Nikky looked down at her. "She's never to be alone. She goes anywhere without you, you die, understand?"
"Yes, Boss."
"Not a good idea," she said mostly to herself as no one else was listening. "You go anywhere with me, you die, understand?" she warned the bodyguard.
"Boss?" Dark brows lowered in confusion.
"Ignore her."
As he did. Tatyana ground her teeth. "You are a real...ooph..." She was pushed into the room.
"...ass, do you know that?"
He slammed the door behind them. "You will respect me, Brat. I require absolute obedience. Lives depend on it." He crowded close to her.
He was trying to intimidate her. She wouldn't be intimidated. "If you value your people's lives, you won't introduce them to me."
"Respect me." He grasped her upturned chin.
His eyes were the color of the richest chocolate. "In public," she conceded. "In private, I'll do whatever I like." She didn't care what he thought, what anyone thought. They'd all die.
Thinking he'd won, Nikky's smile screamed satisfaction. The ass. She opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell and found it covered. His lips were firm and possessive, his tongue darting out to lick her, and his hand on the back of her head holding her still. She gasped at the contact. He took advantage of her opened mouth, leisurely exploring, sucking her tongue, stroking the roof of her mouth. The man could kiss.
He drew back, his expression even more triumphant. "In private, you'll do whatever I like."
"In your dreams." She stepped away from him, disgusted at herself for wanting him, a complete ass.
"Oh," He glanced over at the giant bed. "We'll be too exhausted for dreaming." The only giant bed in the room.
Panic swept over her. "I thought you had a suite." That's what he said. A suite. Two bedrooms.
"We have a kitchenette." He waved at it. "A sitting area. Bathroom. It is a suite."
"If you think I'm sleeping in the same bed as you..." He had another thing coming. She may have temporarily given up her freedom, at least until she figured out how to dodge the guard outside their door, but her body? Not a chance.
"Why? Are you a virgin, Brat?" His eyes gleamed.
"Of course not," she snapped. She yanked off the giant hoodie, flinging it to the floor, irritated that he struck so close to the truth. Only one man had lived long enough and although those two encounters, once the pain subsided, were interesting, they weren't anything she wanted to repeat with this man. No way, no how.
"Then what's the problem?" Nikky asked with absolute arrogance. "You have needs. I have needs." He reached under her pajama top, placing his hand high on her waist, on her bare skin. "You want me." His thumb swiped that sensitive spot under her breast and her knees wobbled. "I want you." He drew her close. "I'll want you even more," his nose scrunched up,
"after you shower."
She stunk. Her cheeks grew hot. "If it keeps you away from me, I may never shower."
"Alone." He grinned. "You have some great ideas, Brat." He bumped her toward the bathroom. "I'll be happy to try them out." He brushed his hand across her breasts.
"Bite...," She stopped, remembering what he'd done the last time she told him that.
"Yes? You were saying...?" He bared his teeth.
Straight white teeth. Tasting of that orange gum he chewed. She backed over the threshold.
"Out." She shoved him and slammed the bathroom door, locking it.
"Until later, Brat." She heard his chuckle through the door.
Walmart. Fucking Walmart. Nik stormed down the fluorescent lit aisle, Pavel following close at his heels. His John Lobb-clad heels. John Lobb, makers of some of the best dress shoes in the world. Meanwhile, his fiancee was clothes shopping at fucking Walmart.
When he phoned Boris for an update, he'd had to ask the man to repeat himself. Yes, he stupidly hadn't restricted her movements, but he didn't think he had to. All she owned was a pair of bloodstained pajamas and those the maid trashed while the brat took a nap.
Naked. In his bed. Nik scanned the aisles. That was one perk of this pain in the ass phony relationship. A small perk to make up for this trouble.
He heard her laughter first, followed by the rumble of Boris' reply. Nik pivoted in that direction, speeding up. Then he stopped short, his shoes squeaking on the floor.
His entire body hardened. She wore one of his white dress shirts, the tails skimming her calves, sleeves rolled up; a black belt, his, cinching her waist; flip-flops...and that was it. It was surprisingly decent, yet not. The vision of her in his shirt, her frizzy brown curls damp, was one of the most erotic things Nik had ever seen.
As she reached to grab a toothbrush from the shelves, the shirt pulled up. She laughed at something Boris said. Boris, his bodyguard, his single, good looking bodyguard, with his eyes on...
"What the hell are you doing?" Nik roared.
A woman, turning into the aisle with her cart, backed out. The brat simply smiled. "Oh, hi, Nikky." Nikky? She waved. "I need a toothbrush. Two, as I had to use yours. Sorry."
That wouldn't be the only thing of his she'd have in her mouth. He approached her. "We have people for this. If you asked, all of it would have been delivered to you." He indicated her full cart then peered closer. White cotton underwear, a six pack in plastic. People actually bought underwear that way? Deodorant. Another multi-pack, this time of black sports socks. White cotton bras in cheap-assed boxes. Black pants with elastic. Tank tops.
Orange flavored gum. Pink plastic disposable razors. More clothes. "Not all of it. You are not buying clothes from Walmart."
"Nikky, my dear, darling fiance," she looked pointedly at Boris, "we talked about this. It doesn't make sense for me to buy pricey clothes, not while I'm in a state of transit."
She was playing the doting fiancee. Fine, he'd play along. "Boris, Pavel, wait for us at cash."
He dismissed them. The younger bodyguard gave Tatyana one last wistful look before leaving. He would have to be reassigned. Nik couldn't have his bodyguards ogling the brat.
"My fiancee only wears designer clothes." He leaned against the cart.
"Well, your fiancee is not paying for designer clothes. They're a waste of money." Her entire focus was on the toothbrush selection, not on him where it belonged. "She'll be leaving them behind when her dear, darling fiance dies."
He wasn't dying and she wasn't going anywhere. "My fiancee has no cash. She can't pay for anything." Forget the cash. Was she wearing panties? His gaze fixed on the apex of her legs.
"Not yet," she mumbled. "Hard or soft?" She held up the toothbrushes.
"Hard." Definitely hard. She tossed two toothbrushes into the cart. She wasn't wearing a bra, he knew that, her nipples dark through the shirt. Panties? He wasn't sure. "You don't need cash. Anything you want, I'll buy for you." There were advantages to being wealthy.
"I need a laptop."
"You'll have one tomorrow." Tonight, he wanted her full attention. "We're leaving, Brat.
Draw up your list of demands and give them to me later." He pushed the cart along. Him.
Nikolay Kaerta, a member of one of the wealthiest families in America, pushing a cart at Walmart.
"I wasn't done shopping." She clumped behind him, her flip-flops slapping against the linoleum.
"You are now." He spotted his men at the front, both of them smiling. Because he was pushing a cart. At Walmart. This rumor would make the rounds at the casino, for damn sure.
"Where are we going?" Another irritating question.
To the limo where he would find out the answer to the panty question. "You're being dropped off at a boutique. Buy something appropriate there because you'll be meeting my parents for lunch." That conversation hadn't gone well, his mother had been hurt over him springing a surprise future daughter-in-law on them. Damn Grandfather and his secretive plans.
"Oh."
"Pavel, drive the Bentley to the boutique." He had things to do and he couldn't wait all morning for her to figure out what to wear. "Boris, pay for this." He pushed the cart at the infatuated young man. "We'll be in the limo."
After the limo door closed behind him, Tatyana vented. "You're a very, very bossy man and I don't know why they put up with you. I'd never work for you. Not in a million years."
"I'd never hire you, Brat. Not in a million years." He sat down and pulled on her arm. She fell with a thump on his lap. "I require obedience from my employees."
"You won't get that from me." A hand on her stomach pressed her back against his arousal.
Her face flushed. "What the hell...let me go." She struggled.
"Not yet." His voice was sinfully deep.
If not now, when? "What do you think you're doing?" She stiffened as his hand moved up her bare legs. Surely, he didn't plan to... She looked around at the heavily tinted windows, the solid divider between them and the driver. Here?
"I need some answers." His palm on her thighs. "Ahhh...my boxers." He nodded in appreciation.
"My clothes were gone." Although she was fully covered, it felt decadent gallivanting around in his shirt. "I had nothing else to wear."
"What's mine is yours, Brat." A flick of the boxers' button fly and long fingers slid inside.
And what was hers was his. "It doesn't go both ways, ass." She clasped her legs together tightly, blocking his access.
"Language." He withdrew his hand. He was giving up so easily? She wiggled in disappointment, legs opening slightly. "And it does." He cupped her, lightning fast, and grinned. "Mine." His middle finger moved. She trembled. "You're wet for me, Brat." She was.
Embarrassingly so.
"You'll die." Multiple stab wounds to the stomach. It'd be painful. She tensed up, the memory harsh. That death had hurt. She suspected that if she let him go further, this one would also.
"I'll take that chance." He kissed her neck.
"We shouldn't," she warned, tilting her head so he could reach her ear.
"We have to." He obliged, nipping the sensitive skin. "I'm a physical man. You're a physical woman. People will expect us to be in a physical relationship." They would. No one would b
elieve she could keep her hands off him, not with the way he smelled. And touched her. He mouthed over the top of the white shirt, leaving damp tracks, until he reached her breast, all the while stroking her.
"You're going to die." She reminded herself she couldn't care for him.
"All the more reason not to wait." As he sucked on her nipple through the thin cotton, he entered her with his finger. The dual impact made her buck. "Steady, Brat." He chuckled, his finger still inside her. "You are so tight, so hot."
"Nikky." All her thinking done, she twisted on his lap as he pulled his finger out.
He pushed into her once again. "I need more." He withdrew, pulling the boxer shorts off.
"Much more." She heard the sound of a zipper. There was jostling as he shed his jacket and yanked his pants and boxers down. "I can't wait. Next time, I'll take my time, I promise.
Now, I need." He lifted her so she straddled him high on his stomach. "I need you. Take me, Brat. Take me into you."
What? Did she hear that correctly? She was to do everything her own damn self?
"Brat?"
He was a lazy ass. She positioned him with shaking hands, and lowered herself. Too tight.
He was too big. It wasn't going to work. She paused.
He didn't give her time to figure it out. "Can't wait, Brat, can't." He placed a hand on her hip, pushing down as he thrust up.
Pain seared through her. She squeezed her eyes shut to capture the humiliating tears. She'd forgotten about the pain.
There was a long stretch of silence, her sitting completely impaled, him throbbing inside her. It was the strangest feeling. "Brat?"
"Give me a sec." Her voice sounded small to her own ears.
"You're not a virgin?"
"No." Oh, hell, he couldn't tell? Had she really done it that wrong?
"How many?" His hand rested on the curve of her back. "How many men?"
"One." She shifted her body, adjusting to accommodate him. It no longer felt like she was sitting on a red hot poker.
"Fuck." A curse from him, insensitive bastard. "How many times? When?"
"Twice."
Another 'fuck'. He then sucked in his breath sharply as she flexed experimentally. The pain was almost gone.