Deciding flirtiness is warranted in the situation, I play back, tapping my red lip with an equally red fingernail. “I do, though I prefer to use them for midnight back scratches.”
I curl my fingers, scratching at the air between us and knowing that he’ll see my slight cleavage as he looks at my fingers. “Though I have been known to be less than friendly with them a time or two.”
I make a tiny hissing noise befitting a pissed-off kitten.
He chuckles slightly. “Very well. I’ll keep that in mind. Would you do me the honor of escorting me this evening?”
I don’t let the shock show, but somehow, I think he knows. “I would love that, sir.”
He offers his bent elbow, and I slip my hand through, resting it lightly on his forearm where I can feel the corded muscles there. Even through the British tailoring, I can feel enough strength there to know he could crush walnuts if he wanted. Or me. He could crush me with barely any effort.
As he speaks to the rest of the room, I find Maritziana’s eyes. She no longer looks quite so friendly, unfortunately, and I assume I’ve scored some sort of prime position that she had her eyes on.
“Ladies, have a lovely evening. Grant, please see them into the ballroom.”
The butler opens the door, and the group follows him out, disappearing in the distance and leaving me alone with Nathan and Caleb.
Claire’s warnings war in my mind with joy over having completed step one of the mission, getting close to Nathan. Being his escort is bound to get me some intel, I think triumphantly.
But I need to be careful, I remind myself, picturing Anna’s face, frozen in death. Death that might have been ordered by the man at my side. Oh, God, what have I gotten myself into?
A small shudder runs through me, and Nathan peers down at me, patting my hand politely. “Are you okay, Kitty?”
I nod, but any answer I might have been about to give is interrupted by Caleb’s jovial outburst. “What the fuck, Nathan? You cockblock me with Red but then just claim one of the other girls for your own?” I’m thankful for the blasé tone of his words, because if he’d been serious, I’d have been even more nervous.
Nathan smiles, and I can get another read on their relationship. It’s one that Claire and I have had for most of our lives . . . maybe all siblings do.
“Because I’m not worried about my restraint and control, but I am always worried about yours, Mr. Impulsive. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Caleb’s arrogant smirk says that Nathan isn’t wrong. “Can’t help it, man. I’ve got what the girls want. A good, fat—”
Nathan cuts him off, sliding his eyes to me. “Wallet.”
Caleb laughs and points at Nathan. “Yep, you know it.” He throws up a two-fingered wave. “Later, man. Gonna go get tidied up. Much less fun now that Red won’t be invited to my shower. See you at the party. Try not to piss off the Russian or get yourself killed.”
I flinch, and Nathan pats my hand serenely again, noticing my concern. “No worries. He’s just mouthing. You’re perfectly safe with me, as are the rest of my guests.”
Even though I know that’s not remotely true, hearing his reassurances calms me somewhat and I let him lead me down the hall to the party.
It’s already in full swing when we enter, though it’s not a rip-roaring house-smasher to begin with. The other hostesses are scattered throughout the room, partnered off with small groups of men and women who are talking casually, just enough to balance out the gender see-saw and making sure there isn’t too much testosterone in the air. Music is playing in the background, but no one is dancing considering it’s old-school Sinatra crooning ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ over the surround sound system. Waiters are passing trayed hors d'oeuvres as they move unobtrusively around the room in head-to-toe black.
The ballroom itself is stunning, set up for a soiree more than a gala, though I could see fancy gowns swirling over the marble floor. But tonight, there is a variety of seating areas, plush couches and cozy armchairs set up on Persian rugs, giving an air of intimacy to the formal space.
It’s mighty Roman, the academic in my mind whispers, and I have to hide my chuckle. It does look mighty Roman, like someone had taken the idea of a Roman dinner party, an evening of entertainment thrown by a senator and updated it to the twenty-first century.
Nathan is quite obviously the man of the hour, smoothly gliding from one group to the next, with greetings and conversations that make me think he’s had his fair share of practice at things like this too.
I’m surprised. I figured from what Claire said that he’d be rougher around the edges, but if he’s even half as adept with a rifle as he is here, I’m sure the battlefields of the world are glad he’s gone. They’re safer now.
Through it all, he takes me with him, including me in the conversation and laughing at my light jokes, even teasing me here and there. It feels oddly comfortable, like there’s a knowledge between us that’s developed over time, not just two people faking it for the duration of a party.
If I’m honest, I can see the dark charisma lurking under the polite façade Nathan wears. It’s not a slick charmer persona like Caleb has, single-minded in its purpose of pursuing pleasure.
Nathan is colder, pragmatic, but the magnetism is there, pulling me in all the same. Like a spider to the fly, he’s creating a sense of safety, of connection, of desire.
Though that may be just on my side as he’s been nothing but professional. But every time he touches the small of my back, directing me this way or that, a buzz runs through me. And once, when his touch was the slightest bit low, I had hoped he was going to cup my ass. But he hadn’t, and I’d mentally yelled at myself for being a stupid hormone-controlled idiot and forced myself to refocus on Claire’s assignment.
So far, I’ve got nothing though. Beyond a bunch of names, some minor squabbling between the Stone brothers, and a peek behind the veil of Stone Manor, I’m drawing blanks on intel.
The air in the room changes. A big, burly beast of a man enters loudly, asking, “Where’s Stone?”
Even if Claire hadn’t shown me Nikolai Romanov’s picture, I would’ve known not to mess with this man. There’s a brashness to him, from the suit that’s just a touch too loud to be considered polite or fashionable to his eyes, just a bit wild, and his carelessness for societal norms bordering on uncouth even though he’s rather attractive in an odd way with high cheekbones and full, dark hair. But mostly, you can sense the danger rolling off him. No, he’s a man I should leave alone. Definitely.
But I’m disappointed when Nathan doesn’t lead me over for an introduction, knowing that though my mind screams no, this is exactly what Claire sent me here for.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Kitty. I need to speak to Mr. Romanov.”
He lays a chaste kiss to my cheek, more French goodbye than personal, but my cheek burns where his lips touched my skin. And a dark, deeply sensual space in my core clenches as well, wanting more of his kisses.
Suddenly bereft, I make my way to the bar, ordering a tonic and lime. As I wait for the bartender to make my drink, my eyes scan the room, following Nathan and Nikolai. They’re sitting in a vignette across the room, and though their conversation seems friendly enough, Nathan has a slight tension to him that wasn’t there earlier.
I need to know what they’re saying. It’s the whole reason Claire sent me to this party. The reason I’m undercover as Kitty the Hostess. But how can I do that when Nathan so obviously dismissed me?
An idea strikes, and when the bartender delivers my drink, I ask for another. Taking a chance, I order a scotch this time, and when he pours me a few fingers’ worth, I take the glass, carefully and slowly making my way closer to Nathan and Nikolai. I stand to the side, taking advantage of a large potted plant and feeling like Veronica Mars.
“What is it you want, Stone?” Nikolai sneers. And just like that, I’m a successful undercover agent for my sis. Infiltrated, eavesdropping, intel gathering genius. Score: Me – 1,
Nathan and Nikolai – 0.
Chapter 6
Nathan
I have to remind myself that this meeting with Nikolai is the entire purpose of this party. My thoughts are still across the room with Kitty, wondering who she’s speaking with now that I’ve let her alone. From the moment our eyes met in the anteroom, she’s called to me like no one ever has, her hourglass curves sexy as fuck. More importantly, I could see a spark of intelligence in her eyes, and I liked the way she wasn’t scared to sass back when I challenged her.
An instant attraction pulled me to her. But that’s not who I am, so instead, to satisfy the need to have her close, I’ve forced her to be by my side all evening instead of mingling like the other hostesses. She’s been charming as we’ve worked the room together, softening my brash manner of speaking so that each conversation has played smoothly, with each of her additions giving me insight into her brain and the way she thinks.
I’ve taken every opportunity to touch her but it’s not enough. I want to feel her skin beneath mine, see her mouth O in pleasure that I’m giving her, experience her giving herself to me completely, and know her inside and out, body, mind, and soul.
Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t blown out a leg seam with the intensity of my fantasies.
But it is not the time. She will be fine. I have to trust that because I need to give my full attention to the man in front of me. Nikolai Romanov, the man who has what I need, and I must find his price to get my way.
As much an uproar as he caused coming into the party, like a bull in a china shop, I have to remember that he plays that part happily, loud, boisterous, party-loving, and wild until it no longer suits him.
It’s a façade, a way to look like the innocently brash fool, lulling those who have a little knowledge but not a lot of wisdom into a false sense of security, dismissing him. And then he can be scarily precise and cruel, more punishing than anyone currently in the game. Perhaps even more so than me, but not this time.
“Nikolai, thank you for coming. Please, sit,” I say, gesturing to a sofa that would afford him to have his back to the wall. I assume he is like me, unwilling to put himself at disadvantage, particularly when on another’s turf.
“Da, yes . . . you wish to get the business out of the way before partying. Such an American,” he scoffs, his accent thick and gruff, even as he follows my lead and sits down. “In Russia, we do not jump in with both feet, as you say. We prefer to build camaraderie first. Makes the request more palatable that way.”
It’s a power move and we both know it, but right now, he does hold the power. But he doesn’t know what’s in my pocket. He thinks he holds all the cards, but I’ve learned in both mercenary work and business, it’s best to engage the enemy only when you’ve got the advantage. Sun Tzu might be old, but he spoke truth.
I incline my head, acquiescing for now. “Certainly. If you’d prefer some merriment before we get down to business, that can be arranged.” I raise a hand, motioning Maritziana this way. I detected a Russian accent when she introduced herself earlier and think that perhaps a fellow comrade would put Nikolai at ease.
But as she gets closer, Nikolai grunts. “Nyet, no, let us do this and get it out of the way. Vodka!” he barks at a passing waiter, who scurries off to do Nikolai’s bidding. I wait the moment it takes for the waiter to return, watching as Nikolai takes the glass and raises it high, not waiting for me to mirror him. “Za Vstrechu!” he chimes and then takes the large shot in one gulp, sighing happily. “Good vodka.”
I do not speak Russian, but I recognize enough to know that though he toasts our meeting, his lack of courtesy in letting me return the toast before we drink tells me that he doesn’t see us as equals in any way.
I sip my own drink, tasting the subtle flavor before pointedly setting it on the table next to Nikolai’s empty glass.
“What is it you want, Stone?” Nikolai asks, all semblance of politeness vanquished from his tone. This is the hard businessman he is known to be and the man I need to deal with.
“So many things my mind can’t even hold them all at once, but only one thing that I desire enough to invite you into my home, to hold a party in your honor in the hope that you would give your blessing.”
I’m laying it on thick, but I’ve studied Romanov’s style, his strengths and weaknesses, and his ego is one that appreciates a stroke. He needs to play the big man upon high, so this is my best shot at getting my way. But I bow down to no one. It’s merely a tactic.
“And what is that?” he asks with narrowed eyes.
“Something that will cost you nothing. I respectfully ask for safe passage, that is all,” I say, downplaying how important this favor is to me. I don’t want to divulge too much, expose a weakness, or tell such a dangerous man that I am following in my father’s footsteps in a search for a rare and valuable stone.
After all, I’m not sure who killed my father. Maybe it was Nikolai himself and I am walking into the same trap, though I don’t think so. The Romanov specialty is drug trafficking, and gemstones, whether black market or otherwise, aren’t really their thing.
Except for Mother Romanov.
That woman loves her diamonds. Pink ones, to be specific. Rare and unusual in nature, gem-quality pink diamonds make her a very happy old woman. And making his mother happy is one thing Nikolai Romanov loves to do. That is why Caleb went on that last mission for me, all the way across the globe.
Nikolai’s patience begins to fray at the edges, and he leans forward, rumbling. “Safe passage where?”
“I would like to go on a vacation of sorts, in honor of my father,” I say, playing on his family values and twisting on his sympathy. “He asked that his ashes be scattered in several locations across the globe, ones that meant something to him, either in life or in death.” The lie rolls off my tongue with practiced ease and I think that my father would be proud, though making him proud was never something I aspired to do.
“And one of the locations is in South America. Brazil, to be accurate. Now, before you play coy and act like you have no influence down there, we both know you do and why. I could’ve simply flown in and made my trip as quiet as possible, risking my own life, but more importantly, risking your appearance of control. But I did not wish to do that. I would like us to be friends, colleagues, perhaps tovarisch,” I say with a salesman’s smile.
I give him a chance to digest and continue. “So I chose to do the respectful thing, especially since you are in town for your own business, and ask for your permission, your word that my group would have safe passage through the rainforest to the Carajas Mountain caves, that I may perform the rites my father wished, and then safe passage out of the forest and country.”
I make sure I cover all my bases, because I know Nikolai would take special delight in killing me as I arrived at the airport to depart, saying that my safe passage was to the caves, not to and from. He’s conniving that way, detail-oriented in a way I can respect.
Nikola considers me for a moment then laughs, loud and uproariously. “You want me to let you into my territory to toss about your daddy’s ashes?” He doesn’t bother telling me that he has no pull in Brazil, since we both know he has the cartels by the balls, but he asks the question like it’s ridiculous, like he wouldn’t ever consider granting permission, which is the reaction I’d expected from him. He laughs so hard, one of his guards comes over to check on him. But Nikolai waves him off. “Nyet, go . . . enjoy the party.”
I watch the guard walk away, noting that the other Russians are all partying pretty hard, slamming drinks down, and several of them are dancing with the hostesses now as the music has changed. Tuning in, I hear an old club hit proclaiming, ‘It’s getting hot in here,’ and pray the hostesses remember my orders to not give any sexual favors to the guests.
With a sigh, I see Caleb dancing with the redhead, but before I can think to give him shit, his eyes meet mine and he winks. My brother may be crass and uncouth considering our similar upbringing, b
ut he’s got my back, and though he’s dancing, he’s watching me, protecting my back.
I lift my chin and remind myself that if things end safely, I’ll overlook it if Caleb wishes to . . . release some tension.
“That pathway you want access to is one of my most used routes for a reason, and we both know it, Stone. The forest is dense there, the hikes dangerous, and police patrol is nonexistent, making it the perfect highway for me. Letting you use it, come in with your money and daddy issues, sets a poor precedent and I won’t have it.” His words are sarcastic and biting as he sneers. “Hell, the only ones who could guide a group in and out would be my men, since they’ve excavated and created the pathways in and out.”
I smile, not giving in that easily. “If that’s the case, I’d like to amend my request to include the use of a quality guide during my group’s trek in and out of the cave system, and still safe passage for the entirety of the trip.”
“You are not listening. No, permission is not granted,” Nikolai barks. “Will never be, though I appreciate the formal request and the party.” He nods to the merriment happening around us. His voice drops, quieter and more solemn. “I am sorry you will not be able to fulfill your obligations as the oldest son, but I cannot give you what you want. I understand and respect family, but no.”
I’d expected it to go this way. Actually, I’d expected Nikolai to be considerably less congenial about my request, so I smile calmly.
“You understand family and know that sometimes, we must do things we do not want to do for them. Yes?”
Nikolai dips his chin and I drive my point home. “I know you do not wish to do this, but sometimes, family comes first and we must do unpleasant things for them.”
Power Play: A Romance Collection Page 6
