Her chest heaved with the effort of breathing and she let out a little groan, pressing herself against the edge of the counter. I rounded the island unit, my arms were on either side of her body, pressing my restrained erection against her perfect ass and I felt her shiver with arousal as I ground my hips in hard against her.
"Oh God. Valentin, I really have to get this in the oven."
I wanted to kiss and bite and suck bruises through her skin, bind her wrists and ankles tight enough that she would feel it even when the silk of the restraints were gone.
"I am doing nothing to stop you."
"Oh you know that's not true at all."
Mia
Despite all my perfect plans, dinner was nearly ruined after Valentin picked me up and dragged me to the shower, stripping off every single thing I was wearing with his teeth. As he promised, he left his marks on me. Deep, dark hickies marred my ribcage and my belly and I could still feel the tingle in my wrists and the deep pull of my strained muscles in my thighs where he'd forced them as wide as they would go to pound into me as deep as he was able. I was glad my parents were only going to be with us through the video link, because I was struggling to walk without wincing.
I came too many times to count, and I needed another shower to get clean from the first one we'd taken together. Then suddenly we were late for the Skype date with my parents, but lying back on the bed like some kind of emperor, watching me rush about the bedroom pulling on clothes, I really didn't think that Valentin gave the slightest damn.
"We're going to be late for dinner."
He grinned at me, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Good."
"Valentin! This is important to me!"
He sat up, apology bleeding into his eyes as he leaned forward to grab my hips and pull me in close to him again. I let him drag me in close. How could I resist the look in his eyes? "I know, and I'm sorry. I will behave myself."
I looked down at him as he pressed a soft kiss to my hip and shook my head, running my fingers through his hair. "Don't you start that again, I know your game, mister. What are my parents going to think when we show up late looking all mussed up?"
His grin turned wicked. "You are not convincing me I should let you go."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Get dressed, Valentin. Now. If you ruin my mother's meatloaf, I am not going to save you."
When we finally connected the Skype call, my parents were sitting around the dining table at home and I got a stab of homesickness at the sight of the familiar room.
"You were late, so I dished up without you, Honey. I hope you got yours out of the oven. No one wants a dried out meatloaf. That's what I always say."
My Dad was already tucking into his plate, knife and fork working fast and he grinned at the camera with a mouthful of food and sent me a wave. I glanced across the pristine, glass topped table that Valentin had set with our meal and smiled at him, taking his hand.
"Mom, Dad, this is Valentin."
Both of them paused, smiling awkwardly as though they would have rather carried on ignoring the fact that he was there at all.
Valentin cleared his throat. "It's an honor to join you at your table, Mr. and Mrs. Peterson."
The tension on my mom's face faded a little. "Oh, nonsense. We're just eating together, that's all. Is that your apartment? It looks very nice."
"Mom, stop."
"What? It does look nice, Mia. Doesn't it look nice, HUSBAND? Very neat and tidy. Your gentleman friend must do pretty well for himself, that's all I'm saying."
"Oh my God, Mom. Its Valentin, his name is Valentin, and he's right here, see?"
"Well, it's a complement, isn't it? He understands what I'm saying, don't you Valentin? I'm not allowed to say things like that now?"
Valentin's lips twitched into a smile. "I wanted a nice place to live. I think home is important. I can see you think the same."
I watched her puff up with the complement and I fought the urge to roll my eyes, but at least she was thawing. Anybody would do when they came face to face with Valentin's charm and I knew it was only a matter of time before she warmed up to him properly. Dad was going to be another matter.
He was busy chewing away at his dinner, just sitting back and watching everything going on around him in his usual manner, but I wasn't foolish enough to think that he wasn't going to come out with something.
And just then, he proved my instincts right. Pausing to work some remnant of food out from between his teeth, my Dad set his silverware down and looked right at the screen.
"Listen, Valentin. I can't say that I'm all that thrilled about a guy like you making a move on my daughter, so I want to know what your intentions are. She's a hell of a lot younger than you, and if you think that means you can mess her about then you've got another think coming because I will just as soon get on a plane and come out there to teach you a lesson -"
"Dad, you don't need to teach anyone a lesson, please!" I was beet red with embarrassment, and all I really wanted was for the ground to swallow me up. The last thing I needed was my parents to highlight just how young and inexperienced I was when all I wanted was for Valentin to realize how perfect we could be together.
Valentin reached over to touch my wrist. "It's ok Mia. I understand. Your father only wants to protect you." He leaned a little closer towards the webcam, leaning forward so that he rested his arms on the table top.
"Your daughter is an exceptional woman. I intend to be with her for as long as she will let me, and I hope that will be for a very many years. I am not the kind of man to mess anybody about and I do not intend to start with Mia."
My Dad let out a grunt of acknowledgement. "I see. And what is it you do? You look like one of those bankers. Are you recession-proof? Is this fancy lifestyle you've got there based on anything substantial."
I wanted to die, but Valentin only looked amused, and he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat and leaning in a little more. "I am the CEO of various companies. I have… widespread investments and diversified assets. Day to day, I head up a large international business venture. Would you like me to send you our annual report? I can arrange for you to have a copy."
He sounded so sincere, but I could hear the edge of sarcasm in his voice and I booted him under the table. My Dad folded his arms across his chest.
"I don't think that'll be necessary."
"Are you sure?"
"Valentin…"
"What? Mia, your parents want to make sure that I have enough money to support you. I think that they do not believe you will be able to make a living as a dancer, even though you are already doing just that."
"Now hang on one minute-" Mom's eyes flashed with her irritation.
Valentin's eyes widened in mock-innocence. "I am sorry, is that not what was implied?"
"We have every faith in Mia! How dare you say that."
"But you only want her to find happiness with a rich man."
"We don't want anybody taking advantage. She's so young, and if she had her way she'd spend her last penny on what she needs for ballet, and run herself right into the ground while she's at it."
"She is old enough," Valentin put in. I felt dizzy from all the back and forth. I'd never had anyone argue about me, or for me, the way that Valentin was doing. "But you are right. She gives too much of herself. I am enjoying spoiling her, and showing her that there is more to life than this."
I flushed all over again, feeling annoyed at the direction the conversation had taken. "Can we eat? I think we should eat."
Valentin nodded. "It looks delicious. Your recipe, Mrs. Peterson, I believe. Mia has been slaving over it all afternoon. She would barely let me help."
"Oh, she's always been good in the kitchen. Takes after me that way, doesn't she Sweetheart?"
Dad grunted, still watching the pair of us with his arms folded tight across his chest. "She has. But she's got more important things to do with her life than stay in the kitchen cooking all your meals."
Valentin's eyes turned icy and I wouldn't have wanted to be the one on the other end of his glare. I froze.
"Dad…"
"No, Mia it’s fine. This is something that we agree on. When I marry your daughter Mr. Peterson, she will never have to cook again if she does not want to. She will be able to dance on the stage every night, if that is what she chooses, and she will not struggle for money. I will give her everything that it is in my power to give her. Because she deserves it and because I can. And because, even in the small time that I have known her, I have come to love her. And it is a true love, that will last until we are older than the two of you."
Mom's eyes widened and she looked across at Dad, squeezing his hand. "Oh, that's beautiful that is. Do you hear him saying that about our Mia?"
"Yes, I hear him." Dad nodded and finally I saw his face soften. "I guess there's not much I can argue with there." He let out a breath and when he looked up again, he'd pulled on a smile. "It sounds like a toast is in order, if you're as serious as all that."
Valentin nodded. "I couldn't agree more. To Mia." He raised his glass, looking at me, and I flushed all over for the trillionth time.
"Oh, no. To us."
"To the pair of you, making a go of it. All the way in Moscow."
"My little girl, all grown up."
The rest of the dinner went way better than I'd thought it would. Once Dad had eaten and we'd made a start on our own meal, the conversation started flowing more organically after a few false starts where Dad tried talking baseball and Valentin let him go on for a good ten minutes before he announced that he'd never even watched a game and I got a fit of the giggles at the pair of them trying so hard to get along for me.
Deep down, they were just like each other. Madly protective of me, and refusing to see that anybody else might feel that way too. I realized it didn't matter how far apart we were from my parents. Just as long as they could accept me being with Valentin, we'd all still be family.
And as he joked, he had at least one private jet at his disposal, so flying them out at the drop of a hat, or even going to New York for a weekend was no impossibility.
At least, I assumed he was joking, but maybe I was wrong about that.
Even though I hadn't spent very long living with Valentin, already I was starting to think of his place as home in a way that my room in the apartment shared with Eva and Maria hadn't really become. Dinner with my parents via video link made me feel that even more strongly.
Somehow, seeing the house I'd grown up in on the screen with my parents fussing around each other in their usual way made me more glad I was in Moscow with Valentin that I'd thought it would. I'd expected to be homesick, but I didn't feel that at all. I felt settled, like this could be my new home, with Valentin by my side.
I liked the calmness of the spaces, and the fact that Valentin had chosen all the furniture, or at least got somebody with some taste to choose it for him. Downstairs, the furniture reminded me of dorm rooms everywhere. It was all solid and functional and hardwearing, so that it would take whatever a succession of tenants would throw at it (however literally). Everything was clean and spartan, and while I was grateful that I hadn't had to organize furniture myself, it was hardly homely, even with the posters and family photos that I'd put up around my room.
At Valentin's everything was crisp and perfect, but lived in and loved and I never felt like I was messing it up just by being there. He made me feel wanted and at home, whether it was just the smile that came to his face when he saw me walk in the door, or making toast in his kitchen, or curled up with him on his couch. I was beginning to understand what he meant about running myself ragged as part of the Corps.
There was so much I wanted to do - and I'd tried for solos just like he'd said I should, taking them on as well as my Corps roles, and it had left me barely able to set one foot in front of the other by the end of the day.
Valentin was perfect. He ran me hot baths and let me sleep as much as I needed on my days off, and left me little gifts for no reason at all, and the more he spoiled me the more I grudged not having the time to spend with him to properly thank him for it all.
There was a gift bag on the dressing table, and I looked over my shoulder at Valentin with surprise.
"What's this?"
He sat down on the bed, leaning forward with his arms planted on his knees and his fingers steepled together.
"Open it."
Inside layers of tissue paper, I found a box in the same peachy pink of ballet practice shoes. The label was in stitched leather and told me it was perfume. Expensive perfume. From London of all places.
"Iris Prima," I read, darting another look back to Valentin.
"Try it."
I opened the box to find a beautiful bottle of pale gold liquid and when I took the lid off and spritzed a little onto my wrist, I instantly felt my smile open out.
"Oh my God. How did you find this?" In one lightly floral breath, there was a mist of chalky leather ballet shoes, perfectly new and ready for wear. But it held a sophisticated adult kind of edge too, and all the elegance of the performances I tried to give on stage. It was all the elegance of Swan Lake and the Nutcracker condensed and bottled so that I could feel like the most famous ballerina in the world any time I put it on.
"I heard that they made it specifically for a ballerina."
"It's beautiful."
"I wanted you to have it. To remind you what a star you can be, when you're ready to become one."
I turned back to him, pulling him into my arms and kissing him softly. "Thank you, Valentin. It's perfect."
Only this man would go out of his way to discover a perfume like this existed, and I couldn't have been more touched that he'd done it for me. At the heart of him, that was who Valentin was and I could see that as clear as day.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Valentin
With everything on track with Mia and her family, I knew it was time to force myself to deal with everything I had been putting off. I still held out the vague hope that I could convince Timoshenko that my plans for how he was to step down were far neater and far more mutually agreeable than an old fashioned take-over.
It was time for me to deal with my own family issues.
The man was sitting at a cafe table when I walked in, one arm resting casually on the back of the chair next to him and his foot up on the strut beneath the seat. He had a glass mug of tea on the table and a small selection of pastries on his plate.
I'd debated not responding to his summons for a meeting, but there was no point in avoiding seeing him. I couldn't escape this, and there was always the chance that he had changed his mind.
I sat down in the seat opposite and he greeted me with a smile.
"It is a shame we didn't get the chance to speak more the other night."
I folded my arms on the glass table top and leaned forward so that he would still be able to hear me even when I lowered my voice.
"You made your point."
"What point was that?"
I gave him a humorless grin. "You won't touch her. I won't let you."
He picked up the triangular paper napkin and dabbed at the corner of his mouth. "It is not me that you have to worry about. As I said, I found her quite charming."
The waitress came over, and I ordered a coffee, not taking my eyes off Timoshenko the entire time. He was a snake, I was coming to realize, and I wasn't going to trust him for a minute.
He added a sugar lump to his tea and the crystals disintegrated, falling to the bottom of the glass before he stirred it in.
"What do you want, Yakov?"
"I want you to know, dear boy, what it is that you are getting into with this life."
"I am already in this life."
He tilted his head. "Yes, but now you are one man, and that makes it easier. Believe me, I know. I have lost my family to this job. You know that."
I nodded dutifully. His wife and daughters had been killed in revenge for
some deal he'd pulled out of when I was ten, and the bloodshed he demanded in return cannot have been worth the strike against him for the men who had been foolish enough to think that it was a good idea to take their pound of flesh. They didn't live long enough to see the pain they had caused. Timoshenko made sure of that.
"Valentin, this is a lonely role that you seek. You cannot ever fully protect the people that you care about. You cannot have family."
I gritted my teeth. Always he had spun this line; always he had held me at arms length. "You have family. Or do you think I don't know where it is that I came from, why it is that you have paid for my education and groomed me to take your place."
He snorted a breath and shook his head slowly. "You shouldn't say these things out loud."
The waitress brought my coffee and I leaned in closer, dropping my voice as she stepped away.
"Why not, Yakov? Everybody knows the truth. You think they wander around with their eyes closed and their hands over their ears?"
He snarled, and I knew that I was getting to him.
"No. They do not. But they do not make assumptions. They see that you are accomplished; that you are good at bringing the Bratva together. You think that they would respect you the way that they do if they thought that it was only because you are my bastard son."
"At least you can admit it now."
"Your mother-"
"Don't talk to me about my mother. She didn't want me to have this life, but what choice did you leave me? I had what you would give, and nothing else, and me having an Oxford education and a perfect British accent when I speak English did nothing to pay for the care that she needed when she needed it."
Yakov bowed his head and for the first time since I'd known him, there was a flicker of what looked like remorse across his face. "I am sorry that it had to be that way. I'm sorry that it has to be this way too."
I shook my head. "You are the only one who thinks that it does."
Yakov snorted. "You think you have all the answers, that you can keep your hands clean with all your clever ways. But it will never be like that. You have to show that you have the balls to end this the way that it is supposed to be ended. If it takes threatening this dancer girl you have taken a liking to, then that is what I will do. The Bratva isn't just a job, Valentin. You cannot make a takeover deal. If you want this legacy, you have to rip it from my cold, dead hands, or no one in this city, no one in this country will believe you have the right to take it."
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