by Kimber Chin
"Six years ago." Back when she was young, foolish and selfish. As selfish as she was now, condemning this handsome man to death.
This handsome, angry man. Three more rapid fire 'fuck's' flew from those beautiful lips. He was angry because he had needs he didn't think she could meet. She'd show him how wrong he was. She could do anything any other woman could do. She rose up, her knees leveraging off the seat, then sank back down.
"Brat," he groaned.
With pleasure. Yes, she could do this. She repeated the motion. Another groan and his grip on her hips tightened. As she moved again, he took control. He crushed her to him, sucking and nibbling and nuzzling her cotton-covered breasts, raising her up and down, thrusting into her. Faster and faster. There was the beginning of something, she wouldn't call it pleasure but it wasn't pain, when he cried, "Tatyana!" Heat and moisture filled her.
"Shit." He grabbed the boxer shorts, stuffing them under her. Between them. "You should have told me, Brat."
He was still angry, after all she'd done to make him happy. That irritated her. "And what?"
She swung her leg over, sore.
He wouldn't let her move to her own seat, holding her close. "We should have remained celibate the entire time? Because I can't keep a lover alive long enough to gain any experience? Well, the hell with you, then." His laughing didn't ease her irritation. She struggled to get away from him. "Let me go, you ass." He was too strong. "And don't you dare laugh at me! It's not funny. The last man I fucked died a slow, agonizing death."
That sobered him. "I would have killed him, anyway, Brat. For having fucked my fiancee as you so crudely put it."
There was something thrilling about his possessive tone. "I'm not your real fiancee, idiot.
And you'll die, too." It'd be all her fault.
"Not before I fuck you properly. That, I swear." The passion in his eyes made her look away.
She couldn't care for him. He was going to die. She sat in his lap, staring out the tinted windows. The car was moving. They were on the way to that fancy boutique of his.
"I can't try on clothes with no underwear." She plopped down in the seat across from him.
The briefs she'd been wearing were a sticky, wet mess; she patted herself dry once more.
Her new panties were with the bodyguard.
"We, you..." The arrogant ass appeared flustered. "We don't have to go to the boutique. I'll have clothes sent to you."
She knew the type of clothes he'd have sent. Boxy black suits. Like his entire team wore.
"No way. I'm picking out my own clothes." If she was to be kept under lock and key, she'd wear whatever the hell she wanted. "Give me your underwear."
"What?" Dark brows rose.
"Your underwear. They're fairly clean, aren't they?" They would be. She'd never met a man so well groomed. "You go commando. I wear the boxers. Unless you want me to flash my hoo-ha at the entire world." She enjoyed shocking him. "Boris would never..."
"Enough." He pulled his boxers off, giving her a full view of his goods. Yes, a well groomed man, all over. "You shouldn't talk like that, Brat." He tossed them to her.
"You monitoring my speech now, ass?" They were warm. She slipped them on, tucking the waistband under her belt.
"Respect." He waved his finger at her as he dressed.
"In public. We're not in public, are we?" She smiled sweetly at him.
No, they weren't in public and if it weren't for lunch with his parents, he'd spend the morning in the privacy of their hotel room. Her third time. The only man alive. Nik hadn't been joking about killing the first. He would have committed that murder himself, to be the only man.
"We met at the casino three months ago," he informed her, searching in his jacket pockets.
They had to get their story straight. No one would believe it, otherwise. "You were losing at slots."
She laughed. "I always lose."
"No one always loses." He frowned at the interruption, drawing out a ring box.
"I do. Always. I never win anything. Never win anything and everyone I come into contact with ends up dead. Hey..." A sad smile. "I may be the unluckiest woman alive."
"Until you met me. And no talking about people dying."
Her bottom lip curled. "I like to warn people. Gives them a fighting chance. Not that it helps them. They all die." She twirled a frizzy curl around her finger. Had there been styling mousse in that cart? He couldn't remember.
"No talking about death," he repeated. Nik slid the ring onto her finger. He'd walked into the store, intending to buy the biggest, flashiest diamond on the planet, but then he spotted the ruby solitaire.
"Blood red," she observed. "Apt." It didn't fit, damn it. The weight of the stone spun the ring around her finger. She straightened it again, crooking her knuckle to keep it in place. "It's huge. I now see why I need a bodyguard."
But she continued looking at it. She liked it. Nik grinned. "We'll get it sized, Brat." It'd be hers to keep, regardless of what happened.
"Not yet." She covered the ring defensively.
Nik's grin widened. "We met at the casino three months ago. It was love at first sight. End of story."
"That's it?" Lines appeared between her muddy green eyes. "Why haven't I met anyone there before?"
"You haven't been back since. I got your number then, took our relationship private."
Simple. No one would dare question him.
She fiddled with the ring, trying to catch the light in the stone. "You have a lot of private relationships?"
It hadn't been his third time. "They won't ask."
"Why wasn't your dad part of Maggy's meeting?" Another question.
"I'm Grandfather's heir, the family's number two." The blood ties had been important, but he had fought for and won that position. Until he walked away after having built his own empire, he'd be number two.
"You're your dad's boss?" She blinked.
"Yes." Father had never been interested in heading up the business, content to play a quiet support role with all the monetary perks and none of the power.
That was bullshit thinking. Although the monetary perks were nice, power and control were everything.
"You're the bossiest man I know." She didn't say it like it was a bad thing.
"I'm the only man you'll ever know, Brat." He examined her under lowered eyelids, feeling drowsy, having been sated sexually. By her. Her third time.
She was worthy of him. She still wasn't that pretty, even cleaned up, but she was intelligent and strong. Once she learned to respect him, she'd do as a fiancee, temporarily or perhaps longer. He stared at the wet spot over her right nipple. She'd do very nicely.
Three
"A strong woman is a man's best asset."ȄSergei Kaerta Nik was going to throttle the brat. He sent her to one of the classiest boutiques in town and she came back looking like a prep boy's porn fantasy.
She sat perched in front of the slot machine in a white shirt, knotted at the stomach, thigh length plaid pleated skirt, socks up to her knees, shiny black flat shoes. Even her frizzy hair was pulled back high in a ponytail. With her tiny frame, she could pass for fourteen, making him feel like some dirty old man.
"Nikky." When her face lit up like that, he felt even dirtier.
"Interesting outfit, Brat." He ignored Boris, the bodyguard seated next to her, and kissed Tatyana. She was his fiancee. People expected him to kiss her.
A blue-haired woman hissed beside them. Perhaps not all people. Damn the brat.
"I thought you'd like it." A twinkle sparked in her mud green eyes.
He lowered his voice, placing a hand on her waist. "I'll express how much I like it later. In private." Somewhere soundproof where he could yell to his heart's content.
Her face softened and his anger flashed to passion. Passion he also couldn't indulge in. His parents waited in the reserved private room. "You ready?" There was only five cents left on the penny slots. It wasn't worth redeeming.
"I blew two
more of your dollars, I'm afraid." She frowned.
"No one wins at slots." Not over the long run, the machines rigged in the house's favor.
"But she didn't win once, Boss," Boris added, bumping up Nik's irritation to a whole new level. He'd have to be replaced. Nik didn't want intrusions into their private conversations, a bodyguard to be seen, not heard. "Not once."
"Impossible." Slots were designed to give a little back at random intervals. That kept people playing.
"I never win, Nikky, never."
Again with the Nikky. He'd have to talk to her about that also. It wasn't dignified. "Then the machine is broken." It was the only acceptable explanation. "Boris, take care of it." The extra protection was unnecessary in the restaurant. Nik pulled Tatyana to her feet, the skirt flipping up, giving him a tantalizing peek at white cotton panties.
"Yes, Boss." The man shifted over, reaching for the spin button.
They were only two steps away when the machine paid off, lights flashing, bells sounding.
"Machine's not broken, Boss."
The brat laughed. Nik didn't acknowledge the bodyguard, but continued to walk. She never won, she'd said. Never. He, the second-in-line to lead a gambling empire, was engaged to a bad luck charm.
"The ribbon is to keep it on." Tatyana leaned closer, her hand in Mrs. Kaerta's, the ring examined by the woman's scrutinizing eye. "It's a bit loose and Nikky says it has to be resized, but I won't let him take it. Not yet."
"Nikky," his mom repeated with wonder.
Tatyana moved her finger, admiring the way the ruby flashed. Not all Russian men gave engagement rings. She was glad Nikky did. She liked having proof she belonged. "It is a symbol of our love." She smiled cheerily at Nikky. He glowered back. It was sinfully easy to provoke his temper.
The schoolgirl outfit provided instant results, his insistence on treating her like a brainless child the inspiration behind it.
"That's very romantic, daughter." Mrs. Kaerta had asked to call her that, daughter. Tatyana liked it. It made her feel like part of a family. A family she was going to kill but... She pushed that thought aside.
"That's Nikky, romantic. When he proposed, it was so romantic, I cried." She ratcheted up the drama. "I felt embarrassed until I saw he was crying, too."
A growl rumbled across the table. "Tatyana,"
"He cried?" Brown eyes so like Nikky's widened. "Nikolay hasn't cried in..." A pause as though his mom couldn't remember.
"Son?" The dad, a quiet, unassuming man, raised a gray sprinkled dark eyebrow. He wasn't as bossy as his son and father, but there were similarities between them. Like the eyebrow lifting. That Kaerta mannerism was extremely arrogant, yet so very effective.
"I didn't cry," Nikky bit out.
"Oops." Tatyana brought a hand to her mouth to cover her smile. "I wasn't supposed to share that," she whispered. "Don't be mad at me, Nikky." Tatyana looked around the table, ensuring she had his parents' full attention. "He wasn't crying. He had something in his eye." She winked.
"Enough, Tatyana," he said with a pointed glare. "My parents can be trusted never to repeat anything said at this table."
He really was the bossiest man she'd ever met, bossing around his own parents. "Then, you won't beat me?" she delivered with the exact right amount of emotion.
There was a sharp intake of breath from his mom. "Nikolay would never hurt a woman."
"There's always the first time." Nikky's smile held no humor.
"Nikolay!"
"Oh, no, Momma Kaerta," Tatyana rushed to reassure her. "I was only teasing. Nikky treats me like a princess." She watched out of the corner of her eye as the tension eased from Nikky's body. "In fact, he bought this outfit for me." The tension returned. "Do you like it?"
"Tatyana!"
Poor Nikky. She chuckled quietly. He shouldn't have assured her of his parents' discretion.
It gave her carte blanche to tease him.
"Has Sergei met her, Son?" The dad's perma-worried expression deepened.
How could such a fearful man be Nikky's dad?
"He has." Brown eyes held hers, warning her not to say more. It was unnecessary. Tatyana didn't understand the dynamics between grandfather, dad, and son well enough to toy any further with it. Yet.
"And?" The mom chewed on her bottom lip.
"And his opinion doesn't matter. I don't need his permission. I marry whom I please." Nikky held out his hand to her. Tatyana took it. "And Tatyana pleases me very much." Looking into his eyes, Tatyana almost forgot it was all an act.
"He doesn't approve?" Mr. Kaerta straightened. "Son, I don't thinkȄ"
"Enough," Nikky barked.
Because the grandfather didn't approve, the dad didn't approve. It was a decision made with no thought to Nikky's happiness. He had no direct support.
From his parents. Tatyana squeezed Nikky's hand. The hell with them then. She'd support Nikky. She was all he needed. Her mom had been all her dad needed.
"It'd be romantic if he didn't approve, wouldn't it, Nikky?" There was no response from him. "It's a family tradition." She appealed to the mom's sentimental streak. "My mom's dad didn't approve of her choice, either. That didn't stop her. Her love for my dad was so strong that they married anyway."
"And what did your grandfather do then?" Mr. Kaerta demanded.
That was where the story became a little less romantic, but Tatyana wouldn't lie, not about her family history. "He never spoke to her again."
A gasp. "Nikolay, you wouldn't...," his mom fretted.
"He approves," he said almost absentmindedly, his eyes on her face, the perceptive ass realizing it wasn't a fictional story. "Grandfather approves."
He dared to pity her. Her. Because she didn't have his big fucked up family. "He does."
Damn them both. "You might even say our engagement was his idea." She forced a defiant laugh. She didn't care about Nikky and his pity. He was going to die.
The door opened. A round balding man approached them. He bent, whispering something into Nikky's ear. Nikky pulled his hand from hers. "If you excuse me, I must see to something." Something not very cheerful from the sound of it. "Behave yourself, Brat." A kiss on her forehead and he was gone.
She plastered a smile onto her lips. "Did Nikky behave himself as a child, Momma Kaerta?"
She doubted it. He didn't behave himself as an adult.
Yuri opened the door but didn't follow him in. Grandfather sat alone in the room, a lit cigar in one ringed hand, a demitasse in the other. Yet another private meeting. "Nikolay." A condescending smile lifted Grandfather's lips.
Because he had been called to heel like a damn dog. "Grandfather." Nik sat close but not too close.
"The lunch goes well?" The demitasse was set down.
Grandfather knew about the lunch. Grandfather made it his business to know everything.
"Well enough." The brat was in fine form, the crack about him crying driving Nik to the brink of violence. Respect. That was all he asked for.
"If your parents give trouble..."
He would fix it, Grandfather's implication. "I can handle my parents." They were followers looking for a leader.
Grandfather chuckled. "You always could, even as a child." He puffed on the cigar, smoke swirling around them. A normal person would have died of lung cancer years ago. Not his grandfather. He was stronger than ever. "Chan is distributing a photo. He's looking for her."
"I know." Until he talked to Chan, she'd go nowhere without a bodyguard. "She's my responsibility," he reminded his grandfather.
"She's my responsibility. It was my word given to protect her." A cold stare.
Nik held it. "She's my fiancee." He would not tolerate interference.
Grandfather smiled slowly. "What do you know of this fiancee of yours?"
What did Grandfather want to know? "Enough." Her mother had been a brat also, it sounded like, walking away from a controlling parent.
As he wanted to, right now.
"Her peopl
e?"
Grandfather had asked that of Tatyana at their first meeting. "You heard her, dead." Or disowned, but that information was none of Grandfather's business. His relationship was none of Grandfather's business.
Grandfather sucked on the cigar, the smoke thickening, testing Nik's limited patience. The brat was unsupervised, left alone with his parents, and the silence ate precious minutes.
Was there a purpose to this meeting?
"I contacted Igroek," Grandfather released that bombshell almost defiantly.
Akim Igroek had been a business partner and good friend of Grandfather's before they had a mysterious falling out. Now they split the country along east and west lines, purposely avoiding each other. That Grandfather would contact him... "Why?"
"It was time." That topic officially closed.
"What do you wish me to do?" To prepare. Would they be dealing with both Chan and Igroek at the same time?
"Nothing." Ringed hands waved in dismissal.
Nik was tired of it, being dismissed like he meant nothing, shutting up when he had more to say, but now was not the time to address it. The brat was waiting and he had enough problems to deal with. He strode to the door.
"Nikolay," Grandfather called out. Nik stopped, like the well trained dog he was. "Treat her well, the girl."
"She's mine. I'll treat her as I wish."
Although Tatyana kept a smile on her face, the atmosphere shifted when Nikky returned to the table. His foul mood told her right away that someone had died. Was it Maggy, the green-eyed woman? Boris, the good looking bodyguard? Her heart froze. Please let it not be the baby.
"We're leaving." Nikky stood and Tatyana didn't argue.
"We'll see you tonight?" Mrs. Kaerta asked eagerly as she embraced Tatyana. She was a nice woman, a nice woman Tatyana had killed by spending time with. Everyone she knew died.
Everyone.
"Yes," Nikky answered for both of them, Tatyana's mind preoccupied with the list of potential victims.
She waited until they were a safe distance away before asking, "Who was it?" It wasn't the bodyguard, the young man had been waiting for them outside the room.
"Who was what?" Nikky had a solid grip on her hand, drawing her through the casino floor, nodding at people he knew, not stopping to talk.