by Roxie Rivera
He glanced at her, taking in the sight of her damp hair and low slung jeans. The tiny peek of skin between her cotton tee and the top of her jeans did little to cool his raging lust. "No. Your tea is ready."
She slid next to him and picked up the two mugs. After placing them on the table, she grabbed milk from the refrigerator. She'd served his tea enough times at the restaurant to know exactly how he liked it. By the time he'd plated the eggs, she'd already grabbed silverware and the pastries.
When they took their seats, he waited patiently while she said her quick, silent prayer of thanks. Though she'd only been introduced to her Russian Orthodox faith when she moved into her grandparents' home, Vivian took her beliefs very seriously and seemed intent upon living her life accordingly. Unlike some hardcore believers, Vivian never pushed him on the subject. For that he was eternally grateful.
Finished with her prayer, she smiled at him. "Thank you for breakfast."
"It's only eggs."
She shrugged and picked up her fork. "It's nice to share a meal with someone again. I'd gotten so used to having Lena here every morning. It's still very strange to eat without the news blaring in the background or her cell phone ringing off the hook."
He eyed the box on the other end of the table. She'd labeled it with Lena's name. "Have you spoken to her since she and Yuri jetted off to Moscow after Dimitri's wedding?"
"Last night," Vivian said. "Apparently Yuri went totally overboard with Christmas gifts. She still hadn't opened all the boxes when we'd talked."
"I'm not surprised. He's absolutely infatuated with her."
"And that's a bad thing?" Confusion colored her voice.
"It's a weakness."
She sat back and stared at him. "How can you say something like that, Kolya?"
The sound of his nickname falling from her lips did crazy things to him. The familiarity of it made him ache for all the things he couldn't have. "I know it's not a popular sentiment but it's true. Love is a weakness that's easily exploited."
She dropped her fork and it noisily bounced on her plate. "That is such bullshit—and you know it."
His brow arched at her surprisingly angry display. "That infatuation—that love—that Yuri felt for Lena nearly got her killed when his past came knocking at his front door." He didn't mention that it was only his contacts back in Russia and light traffic that enabled him to save the two lovers before they'd been killed. "It was the same thing for Benny and Dimitri and Ivan and Erin."
"And us?" She dared him to deny that he cared for her. "We care about each other as friends do. There's friendly love between us. Does that me weak? Does it make you weak?"
Friendly love? No, what he felt for her was so much more profound.
He ignored her furious gaze and tucked back into his breakfast. "You should be careful asking questions like that. I doubt very much that you'll like the answer."
When he refused to meet her intense stare, Vivian shoved back her chair and started to leave the table. He pinned her in place with one look. Gesturing to her plate, he ordered, "Sit and eat."
She glared at him. "Don't tell me what to do."
"Then don't hurt yourself by trying to punish me. I'm not the one who will spend the rest of the morning hungry if you storm off."
She gritted her teeth but flopped back down in her seat. Snatching up one of the fruit-filled pastries, she took an obnoxiously large bite. "Happy now, Warden?"
Rather than reprimanding her for chewing with her mouth open, he shrugged. "I'm not unhappy."
She growled and reached for her tea. After swallowing, she said, "You're impossible, you know that? Like straight-up impossible!"
He bit his tongue. It wouldn't do either of them any good if he told her how maddening she was and how badly he wanted to leap across the table and claim that wicked little mouth of hers to kiss her into submission.
Certain they needed to change the subject, he asked, "Are you painting today?"
"Yes."
"Is everything ready for the upcoming show?"
"The gallery is sending over a truck tomorrow for the last few pieces. I'll do a final walk-through in a few days but I doubt anything will need to be changed. The layout Gustavo showed me was amazing."
He loved hearing the excitement in her voice whenever she talked about her art. Of all the things he'd ever done for her, renovating that warehouse into studio space had been the one that meant the most to both of them.
"Would you mind if Kostya stays at the studio?"
"Do I have a choice?"
His lips settled into a grim line. "This doesn't have to be difficult, Vee. You have to adjust to a new normal."
"For how long?"
"As long as it takes," he said, unwilling to give her a timeline that might have to be continually changed. "After your shift at the restaurant, I'll take you home."
She shook her head and sipped her tea. "I'm not working tonight."
He frowned. "You're on the schedule."
"I traded last night with Sveta. I'm going out tonight."
His gut clenched as her words registered. "To a club?"
"After we have dinner," she confirmed. "Faze has a new DJ that I've heard awesome things about, and I'm slated to work New Year's Eve so this is the closest I'll get to dancing in the new year."
"You're going out in a group?" He phrased his question carefully and desperately hoped she'd say yes. He'd seen that bodyguard that worked for Dimitri sniffing around the last few weeks. The former Marine looked like he wanted to do more than just guard Vivian's body.
"Just some single friends," she said. "You know—me, Bianca, Nadya, Kelly, one of his brothers and some guys they know."
"And Sergei," he decided. "He actually likes the club scene so you'll take him with you tonight."
"Fine." She shot him a mischievous smile. "Do I have a curfew?"
He grunted and reached for his tea. "You're a grown woman. I trust you to know when to pack it in for the night—but just remember that Sergei has to work tomorrow."
"Doing what exactly?"
He caught and held her gaze. Right after she'd started working at Samovar, Vivian had dared to ask him if he really was the Russian mob boss of Houston. He'd told her the absolute truth, a truth that he'd never confirmed to any other outsider. Though everyone knew what he was, it wasn't something he publicly owned.
"I think this falls under the heading of questions you might not like the answers to, Vee."
She rolled her eyes and rose from her chair. "Like I don't already know?"
Maybe she did. Maybe she didn't. He wasn't about to tell her more than she needed to know. "I'll get the dishes. You finish packing."
"Yes, sir," she returned rather saucily.
He watched her leave the kitchen, his gaze glued to the sultry swing of her hips. She didn't even realize the effect she had on men. If she had, Nikolai had no doubt she would have found a way to use it to her advantage. Instead she flitted through life without ever truly understanding what one of her sweet smiles did to a man.
As he gathered up their dishes, Nikolai wondered what was more dangerous to him. Was it the very real possibility of trouble with the Calaveras motorcycle gang and the Guzman Cartel or Vivian living in his home and sleeping across the hall from him?
He'd put his money on Vivian.
Chapter Three
"One more drink and then we'll go," Bianca promised as she dragged me toward the VIP bar in the exclusive upstairs enclave at Faze. With my connection to Yuri and Lena, I'd been granted access to the area the second I hit the front door, something my small group of single friends loved.
Since my closest friends had paired off, I'd started enjoying more of the social scene with unattached friends. It was fun to get together with Erin, Lena and Benny and their guys once a week for dinner, but I always felt like the odd one out. With Bianca, a friend from high school, it was easier to enjoy the Houston nightlife.
Somewhere along the way, Kelly Connolly
, a part-time bouncer at Faze and a private security agent with Dimitri's firm, had joined our small group. He'd known Bianca's older brother back in high school so she'd brought him into the fold. Tonight, he'd convinced a couple of Marine buddies and Finn, one of his older brothers, to come out with us.
Glancing back at our group of friends, I found them heading down to the crushing throng of dancers on the main floor. Nadya, a waitress from Samovar, led the way, her hips wiggling as the trap beat smoothly transitioned to a popular hip-hop mix. Two of her friends from college had joined our group at the front door of the club. They danced down after her.
Finn Connolly moved at a slightly slower pace. I was still surprised at how well he walked and danced with his prosthetic leg. I'd assumed his barely noticeable limp was from a war injury, but I hadn't even realized he'd lost the bottom half of his right leg in combat until his jeans had ridden up a little during dinner, and I'd spotted the metal rods hidden by the denim.
Like Kelly, Finn had served multiple tours of duty as a Marine. I was pretty sure the oldest brother, Jack, had done the same. Apparently it was a family tradition much like working at the gym the three brothers had recently inherited from their sick father. I'd heard through the grapevine that the old man was in deep debt because of his gambling addiction but I wasn't nosy or brave enough to ask Kelly if it was true.
"This DJ is hot!" Bianca sipped her drink. "But she looks like she's about twelve!"
I could just make out the young woman manning the DJ booth from our perch in the VIP section. She didn't look quite twelve but she looked younger than me. "I think it's because she's so petite."
"Well, I wouldn't know anything about that," Bianca said with a laugh and gestured to her full-figured body.
A fierce fashionista, she owned her plus-sized curves and had been blogging about fashion for bigger girls since high school. She'd gone off to New York for three years of design school before being called home after her mother suffered a debilitating stroke. She now managed the family wedding boutique and had recently started selling her own wedding gown designs.
I envied her confidence. She made sexy look so damn easy. Tonight, she'd gone for a bandage-style dress that hugged her ample curves so perfectly. The shimmery gold color of the fabric highlighted her gorgeous dark skin beautifully. The dark berry stain on her lips and the dusting of gold shadow on her eyelids accentuated her good looks. She'd drawn the appreciative gaze of dozens of men tonight, and she'd done it so effortlessly.
One man in particular seemed unable to tear his gaze away from her. I caught Sergei watching her from the opposite end of the bar. He'd melded well with our group tonight but he'd made it clear that he wasn’t there to socialize. At the restaurant, he'd sat between Kelly and Finn and joined in the conversation, but once we hit Faze, he'd moved into the background as if to keep a better eye on me.
"What's with tall, dark and Russian?" Bianca took a dainty sip of her drink. "What is he? Like seven feet tall?"
I giggled and stabbed at the ice cubes in my mojito with a straw. "He is really tall. Taller than Ivan and that's saying something."
"So what's he do? I mean, you know, other than working for the boss." She waggled her eyebrows.
"He owns part of a construction business." She shot me a look of disbelief. "Really," I said with a laugh. "Some of those guys have interests in legit businesses."
"Like?"
"Car washes, car dealerships, salons, spas, strip clubs…"
She made a face. "Nasty."
I rolled my eyes. "Do I have to bring up your birthday party? Those half-naked dancers were glorified strippers."
"That's different. I enjoyed those hunks of sexy man meat for one night. I don't pay my mortgage off the back of some poor girl who has to shake her ass in front of strange men to scrape by for a living."
I didn't really see the difference but it wasn't worth arguing about tonight.
"How long do you think you'll have the big Russian shadow?"
"I really don't know. It could be a long time."
Her face a mask of concern, she touched my leg. "I know you told me that your cousin and Nikolai think they can keep you safe, but, baby girl, I've got friends in Manhattan. If you need to get out of town, you say the word, and I'll find you a place to go."
"It's a tempting offer." I pushed the crushed mint against the side of my glass with the straw. "But these people could get to me there just as easily as they can get to me here. Maybe even easier," I added with a shiver. "The thing is I don't really belong with the Russians—and the motorcycle gang and the cartel know it."
Bianca frowned. "What does that mean? You're half Russian. Nikolai has basically taken you under his wing."
"It's not the same thing as being part of the family. My grandparents weren't part of that group. They kept their noses clean, you know? My mother burned every damn bridge she came across within the family by marrying my father and then pulling her identity fraud and credit card and check stealing schemes."
I tried to figure out the best way to explain it to her. "If I was, like, a daughter of one of the guys in the family, the guys my dad has betrayed wouldn't dare to come after me. They'd know that the Russians would come down on them like hellfire—but I'm not blood and that's not the case."
While she considered my explanation, a series of loud cries erupted from the dance floor. We both popped out of our seats and hurried to the railing so we could see what the fuss was. The DJ cut the music with a loud squeal. Shouting into her microphone, she urged the crowd to calm down and back away from the bar, but everyone was rushing forward for a better look.
A fight had broken out near the bar. Four or five men were beating the crap out of one another. Bouncers were trying to claw their way through the crush of bodies on the packed dance floor but it was proving difficult to move the crowd. Finally, a bartender in tight leather pants and a halter top jumped onto the bar and lifted a mop bucket filled with dirty water and bar towels. She hurled the contents onto the fighting men, stopping them cold.
By now, three bouncers had reached the brawlers. Big V, the massive bull of a head bouncer, grabbed two men by the scruff and dragged them toward the front doors. His colleagues quickly followed suit.
I spotted Kelly standing next to the bar and holding his hand up to a young woman in a tiny hot pink mini-dress who seemed to have been dancing up there. From the looks they exchanged, it was clear they knew one another. He looked infuriated and she looked embarrassed. Had she been the cause of the fight?
A janitor rushed out with a mop and the bartender hopped over the bar to help him gather up the wet towels and clear away the mess. Almost immediately, the DJ started a new track and the revelers returned to their dancing. It was actually a bit wild to watch how quickly everything turned to normal.
"Okay, ladies, it's time to go." Sergei's low, rumbling voice carried over the music.
I turned around to see him holding our purses and coats in his big hands. He wore an expression that told me arguing wasn't going to work. With a dramatic sigh, I grabbed my purse from his huge paw. "Fine."
Clamping Bianca's purse and coat under one arm, he shook out my coat and helped me into it. While I buttoned up, he helped Bianca slide her arms into her jacket. I noticed the way she gazed up at him and took a few quick steps away from Sergei. I couldn't decide if she did it out of genuine discomfort or to nip any growing attraction in the bud. I knew her type and Sergei definitely didn't fit that mold.
"Come on," he said with a flick of his fingers. "I'll drive you home."
"I'll get a cab," Bianca replied.
"It's cold and late. You'll come with us," Sergei all but ordered.
She glanced at me with a slightly bemused expression. "Are they always bossy like this?"
I smiled up at Sergei. "He's pretty tame compared to some others."
She shook her head and tugged her purse out of Sergei's grasp. "Well—let's go Hulk. Take me home."
He looked do
wn at her as if he wanted to say something. The way his lips twitched with the tiniest hint of a smile confirmed that it was probably something outrageously inappropriate. He was smart enough to know that Bianca wasn't the kind of girl who would let him get away with it.
Ushering us forward, he used his wide shoulders and intimidating size to create safe passage through the packed dance floor. We caught up with our friends and exchanged quick hugs and air kisses before ducking out of Faze.
Out in the cold night, I shivered as a blast of chilly air swirled around my bare legs. The temperature seemed to have dropped twenty degrees while we were in the club. They'd been forecasting a winter storm to hit in a few days but it seemed to have arrived a bit early.
Safe inside Sergei's SUV, we rolled out of the Faze parking lot and onto the busy streets. I leaned over and punched Bianca's address into his GPS unit. It started to drizzle as we left the downtown area for the historic neighborhood where Bianca lived. The house she'd purchased a few months earlier was in the same area as Nikolai's so the trip didn't take us very far out of our way.
As Sergei navigated the narrower streets, his phone started to ring. He fished it out of his pocket but I swiped it from his hand with a frown. "You can't talk and drive!"
He frowned at me and tried to grab the phone but I smacked at his hand. Bianca laughed in the backseat. "Children, do we need to pull over?"
Grinning, I answered the call. "Hello?"
"Vee?" Nikolai sounded surprised. "Why are you answering Sergei's phone? Where the hell is he?"
"Calm down. He's driving. We're taking my friend home."
"When you're done dropping off your friend, tell him to bring you to the warehouse."
His unnaturally harsh tone worried me. "What's wrong?"
"Someone vandalized your studio." His reluctance to tell me came through clearly. "I'm sorry. I should have had someone here."
"It's not your fault." My heart ached and my stomach soured as I imagined what the miscreants had ruined in my art studio. My gaze jumped to the windshield. Bianca's house had come into view. "I'll see you in fifteen minutes or so."