The War King

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The War King Page 6

by Jeana E. Mann


  “Um, we have provisions in place.” An hour ago, I’d have confided the details of our financial agreement to Mr. McElroy, but he was too intent on my expression. Maybe I was being paranoid. He was America’s hero, after all. I tried to relax. The events of the past month had made me suspicious of everyone.

  “Good. Smart girl. No matter what happens, you’ll be financially set. My lawyers can handle all the details. Should I set something up?” Wisps of smoke curled around his head while he waited for my answer.

  I gave him a tight smile and stood. “Oh, my goodness. I had no idea it was so late. Can we continue this conversation another time? I’ve got to get back home.” Mustering a serene smile, I patted his arm. “Thank you so much for your hospitality. Will you excuse me? I’d better say goodbye to Everly and your wife before I go.”

  I fled before he could ask more questions. Everly gave me a sympathetic smile as she walked me to the door. I longed to confide in her, but the words lodged in my throat. Until I knew more about Roman’s situation, I had to keep my mouth shut. I wouldn’t be manipulated into betraying my husband by Mr. McElroy or anyone else.

  Chapter 9

  Rourke

  The next day, unable to face the emptiness of the penthouse, I went to the office for distraction. Mr. McElroy’s unexpected offer refused to stop rattling through my head. He’d given me the perfect escape to the mess I’d found myself in, and yet, I’d been unable to take it. The reason stared me in the face. I’d loved Roman from the night we’d met at the Masquerade de Marquis. No other man would ever be able to satisfy me. He was my one and only, and I’d never, ever end our marriage.

  The sight of his empty desk made my fragile stomach quiver. I ignored the curious gazes of the employees and took a seat in his chair. The cool leather sent a chill up my back. Even in absentia, his presence dominated the room. His coffee cup sat on the corner of his desk, empty and forlorn. Traces of his cologne drifted from the sweater draped over the back of his chair. He was everywhere, all the time, but mostly, he was in my head and heart. I picked up the gold-framed portrait on the corner of the desk. Roman’s arm wrapped around Milada’s shoulders. She smiled up at him adoringly. Sitting here in his chair, behind his oversized desk, made me feel closer to him.

  What was I going to do? Options collided and tumbled over each other, none of them gaining a foothold. We could live separately, a choice Roman would never accept. Could I concede to his dangerous lifestyle in order to save our marriage? With a heavy sigh, I powered up my laptop and began mindlessly sorting through my emails. Three of them came from Lavender Cunningham’s replacement. I tagged them for later, unable to face the details of the Masquerade de Marquis now.

  “Mrs. Menshikov?” One of Roman’s executive assistants popped her head through the open door. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

  “Um, sure.” I closed the email screen and swiveled the chair to face her. Although my emails weren’t particularly sensitive in nature, I wasn’t sure who I could trust anymore. “What can I do for you?”

  After a hasty glance down the hallway, she stepped into the office and closed the door behind her. Threads of premature gray glistened in her dark-brown hair. Fine lines around her eyes suggested she was in her early forties. She didn’t return my tentative smile. “There are rumors going around the office, and I thought maybe I should confront you directly instead of listening to speculation.”

  “Oh?” Of course, people had questions. I’d been around the corporate environment long enough to understand the way gossip ignited and swept through a building like wildfire.

  “Yes.” She wrung her hands in front of her, a slight blush coloring her freckled skin. “You know how facts get exaggerated.”

  “I’m glad you came to me first, Lorissa,” I said. “Please, have a seat.” Meanwhile, beneath my calm exterior, my heart thudded against my chest. Had she heard about Roman’s detainment? His PR staff had been working overtime to squelch the damage done by Ivan’s assassination. I made a mental note to check in with them before I left.

  “Is everything okay with Mr. Menshikov?” Her blush deepened, extending to the tips of her ears. My jaw dropped. She raised a palm toward me. “It’s really no one’s business but your own, and I––”

  “Yes, you’re right,” I replied, cutting her off mid-sentence. Inside, I breathed a sigh of relief. I could handle these kinds of rumors. “What, specifically, do you want to know?”

  “I apologize again for overstepping, but you haven’t been to work in weeks. And Mr. Menshikov has seemed so very…melancholy lately.” When I didn’t stop her, the words tumbled from her mouth. “Last week, I asked him to sign a couple of contracts, and he put his signature on the wrong line. Twice. I’ve worked with him for six years. Mr. Menshikov has never done that. Never.”

  An unfamiliar twist tightened my chest. All this time, I’d been too caught up in my feelings to consider his. He’d been hurting just as much as me.

  She lowered her voice. “And he hasn’t yelled at me in days. Not once. I’ve been trying to get hold of him this morning, and he hasn’t returned any of my texts or voicemails. Usually, he’s calling and texting me twenty-four seven.”

  I tried not to laugh at her accurate depiction of his megalomaniac behavior. “You’re worried about him.” The tension eased from my muscles. Half the female staff had a crush on my husband, and who could blame them? He was exotic and mysterious and handsomer than any man had a right to be.

  “Yes. I just—just wanted to make sure he was okay.” Her gaze flitted from the floor to mine. “Is he?”

  “He’s fine,” I said, shocked by how easily the lie slipped from my tongue. “He’s dealing with a sensitive business deal right now and has spotty cell service, but I’m sure he’ll get back to you as soon as he can.”

  “That’s good to know.” Her shoulders dipped, and her smile returned.

  “As for my absence, I’m no longer Mr. Menshikov’s assistant. My replacement is learning the ropes at our home. He should be into the office within the next week. Is there anything I can help you with until then?” I clasped my hands on the desk in front of me and gave her a serene smile.

  “Um, well, maybe.” The arches of her neatly groomed eyebrows shot toward her hairline. I’d never interfered in Roman’s business dealings, aside from my assistant duties. “A man has been calling here. He’s left a dozen messages since yesterday. He said it’s imperative he speaks with Mr. Menshikov right away.”

  “Get me his name and number, and I’ll take care of it.” Thinking we were done, I took a sip of coffee.

  “I remember his name. Henry Von Stratton—you know, like the Prince of Androvia? It’s kind of hard to forget.”

  I sputtered, splashing coffee down the front of my dress. She grabbed a handful of tissues from the corner of the desk for me and watched as I dabbed at the stains. I cleared my throat and scrambled to regain my composure. “Great. If you’ll give me his number, I’ll make sure Roman—Mr. Menshikov—gets it.”

  “Knock, knock.” Nicky rapped on the door frame. “Can I come in?” His tall form filled the opening. The diamonds in his cufflinks sparkled in the overhead lights. Without waiting for an answer, he sauntered into the room. His gaze wandered the length of Lorissa’s figure and warmed in appreciation. “Good afternoon, Lorissa. You’re looking lovely today.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Tarnovsky.” The corners of her lips twitched in a secretive grin.

  My eyes bulged. The nature of their relationship couldn’t have been more obvious. Inside, I fumed. Not only had he been screwing over my best friend, he’d been doing it with Roman’s executive assistant and who knew how many other women.

  “The pleasure is all mine. Believe me.”

  At his cocky smirk, my sanity snapped. “Are you kidding me?” I banged a hand on the desk. “Lorissa, out.”

  “Um, yes, ma’am.” The door clicked softly behind her as she raced out of the room.

  “Uh-oh.” Nicky
took a step in retreat, still smiling.

  I rose to my feet, rounded the corner of Roman’s desk, and grabbed the sleeve of his charcoal pin-striped jacket. “We need to talk.”

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” He eased his arm out of my grasp and straightened the lines of his suit.

  “You know why.”

  “Not really.” He smiled at his reflection in the window while adjusting the collar of his lavender shirt. In true Nicky fashion, he wore a purple tie and matching pocket square, somehow managing to make the combination chic and masculine.

  “You’re sleeping with Lorissa.”

  “So?” He preened, running a hand through his hair and smoothing the strays.

  “Isn’t she a little old for you?” Not that age mattered, but it was the principle.

  “You wouldn’t know it to look at her, but that woman is an animal in bed.” His low whistle split the air. “She can go for days, and she does this thing with her—”

  “Stop. I don’t want to know.” I held up a hand between us and squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for his next disgusting comment.

  “You’re acting more and more like your husband.” The line of his lips curved downward.

  “With you around, it’s no wonder he’s always in a bad mood. You’re incorrigible, and not in a good way.”

  He chuckled. “So dramatic. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re jealous.”

  “You seriously don’t get it?” I squeezed between him and the floor-to-ceiling glass, demanding his attention. He shook his head. The scent of whisky and sex hovered beneath his cologne. “What did I tell you about Everly?”

  “That she’s an excellent dancer and a natural redhead? Which is true, by the way.” Less than six inches separated us. From his greater height, he smiled down at me, gray eyes dancing.

  “Don’t play stupid.” I poked an index finger twice into his chest then a third time for good measure. He was hard and solid as an oak tree.

  “Ouch.” With lightning reflexes, he grabbed my finger before I could poke him a fourth time and held it tightly in his fist. “Careful, princess.”

  “I warned you to be nice to her. I told you not to break her heart.”

  “I was nice to her—very, very nice.” He waggled his eyebrows. “In fact, I treated her better than any of the women in my life. Poor girl just needed a real man to show her a little kindness––and a good fucking. Sex can solve so many of life’s problems.”

  “Don’t talk about her like she’s one of your party girls.” My rage escalated a notch, something I hadn’t deemed possible until that moment. The dam holding back my emotions crumbled and fell into a heap of rubble. Nicky still held my right index finger, but my left hand was free. I drew it back, intending to give him a good smack across the face on Everly’s behalf, but he caught my wrist in midair. I grunted in frustration, needing to take my feelings out on someone. “That’s not how a real man acts. You led her on, lied to her, then cheated on her.”

  “It’s what I do, Rourke. Why are you even acting surprised?” We glared at each other. I lifted my chin higher. His hold relaxed. A troubled crease marred his forehead. He released me completely and took two paces backward. Fresh air filled the space between us.

  I drew in a deep, cleansing breath. “You hurt her.” Tears blurred the room as I thought of the pain on Everly’s face. “She didn’t deserve that.”

  “My God, you really are pissed, aren’t you?” The smug playfulness slipped from his expression.

  “She’s devastated. You pretended to care about her when she was at her most vulnerable.”

  “I wasn’t pretending.” The broad line of his shoulders drooped. He rested a hip on the edge of Roman’s desk, his gaze downcast. “I like her. Truly.”

  “So you stood her up then slept with someone else?” The contrite expression didn’t fool me. No one manipulated emotions and expectations better than Nicky. “Newsflash—that’s not acceptable behavior for a gentleman.”

  “I’ve never claimed to be a gentleman. She’ll hate me for a while, and then she’ll move on. This way, there’s no going back for either of us.” A flash of genuine sadness aged his face beyond his years. I almost felt sorry for him. Then I remembered his talent for manipulating my emotions and braced my shoulders.

  “Your logic never fails to amaze me. You do the most outrageous, horrific things and somehow make them sound noble.”

  “You know I’m right. Suppose we started a legitimate relationship. Eventually, I’d fuck things up, and she’d really be hurt. It’s better to give her a little pain today than devastate her years from now.”

  Although I didn’t agree with his method of delivery, I had to admit—in his own screwed-up way—he’d done her a favor. Eventually, he’d destroy her. He didn’t have the emotional toolkit to deal with genuine feelings and had dealt with the issue the only way he knew how. “There are better ways to break up with someone. Did you ever think about having a talk with her?”

  “You must be mistaking me for someone else. I don’t do feelings.” Beneath the silkiness of his voice lurked a gossamer thread of pain. “It’s so much easier to blow them off.”

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it.” The air thickened until I could barely breathed. “You need to make this right.”

  He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling, like he was beseeching God for patience. “Did you hear what I just said? No.”

  I groaned, my temper tested to the limit by his insolence. “Either you make it up to her, or I’ll convince Roman to cut you out of his life.”

  His gray eyes flashed with a show of anger equal to my own. “Go ahead. I dare you.” One corner of his mouth curled up. “He would never do that.”

  “Oh really? You don’t think so?” I mimicked his smirk. “Try me.”

  An irritated growl rumbled from his throat. “Fuck.” He punched at the air. “Fine. I’ll apologize.”

  Although his surrender filled me with triumph, I knew he hand’t learned his lesson. I shook my head. “Someday, you’re going to have to admit that your actions hurt people, Nicky.” My gaze flickered to the picture of Milada, his unclaimed, biological child. Nicky’s focus followed mine. “Haven’t you ever loved anyone besides yourself?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Not everyone in the world is meant for a happily-ever-after, Rourke. Of all people, you should recognize that.”

  The statement hit me in the gut with more force than a punch. “Don’t turn this around on me. We’re talking about you.” I shoved aside the brutal honesty of his statement. “I’m really disappointed in you.”

  “Well, that makes two of us then.” By the hardening of his jawline, I’d found a vulnerable spot in his ego. He twitched the knot of his tie, avoiding my gaze. “I came to see if you’re doing okay with Roman being…occupied elsewhere…but obviously, that was a bad idea.”

  “Wait a minute.” I closed my eyes. When I’d opened them, he’d moved to one of the leather club chairs. “You knew about Roman?”

  Nicky shrugged and stared at the empty space between us. He picked up a small sculpture on the coffee table and traced the curves of the woman’s breasts with an elegant fingertip. “I hear things from time to time.”

  “You knew? And you did nothing to help him?” The top of my head threatened to explode from the force of my anger. I paced the width of the office with long, forceful strides.

  He shrugged again. “Sure.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It’s not my place. You’ve told me to butt out of your relationship a dozen times. Roman’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

  The callousness of his words broke down the last of my defenses. I slumped into the nearest chair and buried my head in my hands. The walls of my chest tightened. I struggled to breathe and fought the urge to throw something. How had I gotten to this place in my life? “This is un-freaking-believable.”

  “Why? It’s all pretty routine from where I’m
standing.” He took a seat in the chair across from me and rested one nonchalant ankle on top of his knee. “The feds haul him in. They make threats. Then they let him go. It’s what they do. The government might hate him, but they need him more. It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Well, I don’t know exactly, but I’m fairly confident. Say, forty-sixty.”

  “Those aren’t good odds.”

  “And yet, you married him anyway.” He pursed his lips, considering. “Your entire situation is tragic, in my opinion. You’re the sweet, trusting angel, and he’s Satan, ruling the world’s underbelly from his Park Place stronghold. I tried to save you, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “You make it sound like you’re the knight in shining armor when we both know it isn’t true.” He plucked imaginary lint from his pant leg. If my accusation offended him, he didn’t show it. “Your motives are never altruistic.”

  “Now you really do sound like your husband.” After an exasperated roll of his eyes, he shifted to stand. “I’m bored with this. Unless you want to talk about something fun, I’m out of here.”

  “No. Wait. Please. I need your help.”

  “Well…” The petulance slid from his expression, and he eased back into the couch, stretching an arm along the backrest, happy to regain the upper hand in our meeting. “I’m not sure what I can do, but I’ll give it a go. And—you’ll owe me a favor.”

  “Done.” Although I hated the idea of being in debt to him, my desperation stole precedence. “Why is Roman in so much trouble?”

  “Your dear husband has pissed off a lot of people in high places with his little coup in Kitzeh. He’ll have to make nice with them before they let him off the hook.”

  “Why is Kitzeh such a big deal?” The population of the entire country could fit in Manhattan with room to spare.

  “Kitzeh might be small, but it provides easy access between Russia and a handful of third-world countries.” When I failed to make the connection, he tapped a hand on the armrest of his chair. “Also, there’s Androvia. You’ve heard of Prince Heinrich, right?”

 

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