by Roxie Rivera
"No, I'm fine. It's nothing like that."
"You're sure?" He glanced at my stomach. "The baby?"
"Is fine," I assured him. "The baby is just fine."
Ten wasn't convinced. When we reached the first stop sign, he expelled a rough breath. "Do you want me to call the boss? He'll come home if you need him."
"No!" The word came out too harshly. Softening my voice, I repeated myself. "No. I'm fine. We don’t—I don't want to bother him."
Scowling, Ten shook his head. "What happened back there? You look like you saw a ghost."
"I didn't see anything. I just got lost and then I didn't feel well." He had no idea how close he had come to hitting the mark, but I didn't want to say anything until I could ascertain how much he knew about Nikolai's schedule today. Stomach wobbling dangerously, I projected calmness and asked, "Where is Nikolai today?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Samovar, I expect. If he's not at the restaurant, he's taking meetings around town." His gaze skipped from the road to me. "I can get him for you. It won't be a problem. One phone call—and he'll come for you."
The sincerity on Ten's face convinced me. He knew nothing of the secret meeting. There was no way he would have let us go to the Four Seasons for lunch if he had known there was even the slightest chance we could have a run-in with Nikolai and Tatiana.
That left me wondering what he knew of Tatiana. But how the hell was I supposed to ask a question like that without rousing too much suspicion?
Thinking of Lena's phone call, I had a better idea of how to do it. "Ten?"
"Yeah?"
"You know my friend Lena?"
"The one who dates Yuri? I don't know her, but I know who she is. Why?"
"She called me earlier and said that there were some reporters poking around and asking questions."
His jaw hardened, and his eyes glinted fiercely when his gaze shifted toward me. "What types of questions?"
"They wanted to know about our ties to different people."
"Like?"
Glad he had taken the bait, I said, "Well, there were two names. One was Evgeni Zhukov."
"Ev?" He used the nickname with enough familiarity and a ghost of a smile that I assumed they were more than mere acquaintances. "He's from the old country." Ten grinned at the joke he had made. "We grew up together. Me, Ev, Artyom, Ilya," he clarified. "Three of us went bad but not Ev. His mama made sure that he went to university. He went off to London and made a fortune in finance. Now he's like Yuri."
"So why would a reporter be asking about him?"
"He's Russian. He's rich. Nikolai is connected to lots of rich Russians."
"And is he connected to Evgeni?"
Ten kept his gaze fixed forward. "That's not a question for me to answer."
I huffed and leaned back in my seat. Deciding it was now or never, I asked, "What about Tatiana Melnikova?"
He shrugged. "I don't know that name."
"Lena said that she thinks she might have gone by a different name when she lived in Houston a while ago. She was Tatiana Filipova then."
The only clue that he recognized her name was the clench of his hands on the steering wheel. "What about her?"
"Are we really going to sit here and play this game?"
He didn't look at me. "Whatever you know about her is what you're supposed to know about her. You won't get anything else out of me."
His reply frustrated me, but I didn't push. It wasn't fair of me to put him in this position. His loyalties to Nikolai trumped his loyalties to me. That much was clear. I couldn't be angry or upset with him for that. I could only imagine what the two men had been through together.
"Listen," Ten said in a surprisingly gentle voice. "Tatiana was the past. She's dead. I was with Kostya when he found her body. No one could have survived that car wreck. No one." His hand cut through the air like a knife. "This Tatiana Melnikova woman? She's not Tanya Filipova. It's impossible. So there's nothing that you or a reporter need to worry about, okay?"
I nodded in silent reply and turned to look out the window. The fact that Ten believed Tatiana was dead and that she couldn't possibly be alive or living under a different name left me with even more questions. Knowing Kostya's reputation, he could have manufactured a fake death for her. Having Ten with him to discover the body would have given the lie a strong foundation.
But if Nikolai had gone to all that trouble to help her disappear, why was she back now? If she had been in trouble, there were easier ways to contact him than flying halfway around the world to see him in person. No, if she had come here, she wanted something important.
Why had he agreed to meet her? Why were they having lunch? In a hotel? I recalled the conversation I had overheard. They hadn't sound like two people who disliked each other. They had sounded friendly, too friendly.
My stomach threatened to revolt at any minute. I breathed slowly and calmly and kept a tight handle on my seat belt strap. Images of Nikolai alone with Tatiana tormented me. I didn't know what she looked like so my mind created a vision of her from the clues I had. I thought of the Russian-born women who often frequented Samovar to create a picture of a woman who was tall, blonde and beautiful with a keen eye for fashion.
What were they doing right now? Were they still tucked away in that cozy, quiet dining area of the wine cellar or was it even worse? Had they gone up to her suite? I brought a hand to my mouth and closed my eyes as my stomach churned violently.
Ten reacted before I even knew that I was about to be sick. We had just crossed the 610 Loop and were barreling down busy San Felipe Street. He crushed the brake beneath his boot, signaled for a right turn and whipped into the parking lot of the Starbucks. He pulled into a corner spot and reached over to unbuckle my belt. I scrambled from the SUV and barely made it to the grass. Ten was there a moment later, his strong arms bracing me as I heaved pitifully.
When I was done, I sagged against him. He got me out of the sweltering, suffocating heat and back into our idling vehicle. I sat there like a child while he retrieved a travel-sized package of wipes from the glove box. He carefully cleaned my hands and face and then offered me a stick of cinnamon-flavored gum. Touching my shoulder, he captured my gaze. "Stay here. Lock the door. I'll be right back."
He waited outside the closed door until he heard it lock before hurrying across the parking lot. Embarrassed but grateful for my complicated, grouchy bodyguard, I began to understand what Ivan had been trying to tell me about Ten. The former enforcer had done terrible things, but he had a softness inside him that was proving to be exactly what I needed.
When Ten returned, he had a plain iced tea and a chocolate smoothie for me. "Drink this. All of it," he ordered. "If you keep getting sick like this, I'm calling the boss and taking you to the hospital."
It wasn't a threat or a warning. True concern radiated off of him in waves. I accepted the smoothie from him and put the iced tea in the cup holder. "I'll be fine. It's just morning sickness."
He didn't believe me. As he buckled his belt, he grumbled, "One of these days you'll learn to trust me."
"One of these days," I murmured. "Yes."
We drove home in silence, and I went straight for the library while he carried my bags upstairs. I started to close the door but stopped. The last thing I wanted was another argument with him. I walked to the desk I had set up as my work station and opened my laptop. After logging in, I went straight to my internet browser and hit up Google. Unable to help myself, I typed in Tatiana's assumed name and hit enter.
The results appeared in a flash. I scanned the page and felt my heart sinking. There, in full color, in glossy image after glossy image was the stunningly gorgeous blonde who had once been engaged to Nikolai. Her perfectly styled hair and artfully applied makeup complemented an extraordinary body with killer curves. She projected such confidence in her photographs. The Hong Kong skyline visible through the glass wall of her office gave off the impression of power and success. There was no doubt that she was th
e financial prodigy all of these articles claimed her to be.
Glancing over her resume, I slumped in the chair. She was perfect—on paper and in pictures. She might be living under a new identity, but I could tell Kostya had allowed her to keep her educational history when he built her new life. I understood now why Maksim had tried to force a marriage of convenience between Nikolai and Tatiana. Who wouldn't want a daughter-in-law like that?
From a purely financial standpoint, she would have been absolutely perfect. Even now, living halfway around the world under an assumed identity, she was a much better match for him. She possessed exactly the sort of connection a man like Nikolai needed. With her brains and skills and her international network of contacts, she would have been a huge help to him when it came to the shadier side of his life.
In short, Tatiana was everything I could never be. I was just a flighty artist with a dead mother and a fugitive ex-con father who was probably going to tip off the cartel version of World War III, if the newspaper articles I read every morning were to be believed. I was a heavy weight on Nikolai's shoulders and a burden I feared he was starting to regret taking on.
"You forgot this one." Ten entered the library with my iced tea. I closed the window as inconspicuously as possible and took the tea from his hand when he reached the desk. "Do you think you can eat? Maybe some soup and crackers?"
Wanting to be anywhere but the library where I would be tempted to keep digging into Tatiana's life, I stood up slowly. "I'll go make some toast."
"No. I'll make it. Go get comfortable in the living room or the media room. I'll find you."
"I don't need—"
"Go." He pointed to the doorway. "You need to rest."
I started to roll my eyes at his alpha caveman routine but then it occurred to me that this was his way of making sure I was okay. This was his way of taking care of me. He had promised to do this one job, and he clearly had every intention of doing it.
"I'll be in the media room."
"I'll bring your lunch. Take these." He handed me the rest of the smoothie and the cold tea. "Drink them."
I wandered into the media room and got comfy on the sectional in there. I was still trying to decide on a movie when Ten walked in with a large tray. He set it on the big square ottoman that doubled as a coffee table. One glance told me that the peanut butter toast, banana and glass of milk were for me while that stack of outrageously thick sandwiches, the bag of chips and the sodas were his.
"How can you eat like that and still have muscles like those?" I picked up my plate of toast and fruit and settled back into the corner I had chosen.
"I work out." He popped the tab on a can of soda. "A lot."
"Because?"
"It's good for me." He took a sip and stared at the television screen. "It helps me stay out of trouble. I feel…calmer."
"That's good, right?"
Ten nodded. "Now? Yes. Before, when I was on the street, it was better for me to be angry all the time. Hot-headed," he added. "It was useful. Now? Now I need to be calm. I need to simmer instead of boil."
I chewed a bite of my crisp toast and washed down the peanut butter and bread with some cold milk. Thinking of his reputation and the way he had described himself, I admitted, "I don't think I would have liked you very much back then."
Ten snorted and crunched chips between his teeth. "You don't like very much now."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?"
"You're growing on me."
Ten smiled, and I understood why he had such a reputation with women. He had perfected that flirtatious smile that hinted at danger and something more primal. "You're only saying that because I went shopping with you and carried your bags from one end of the Galleria to the other."
"Don't forget holding my hair while I tossed my cookies in a Starbucks parking lot," I added with an embarrassed blush.
He chuckled. "No, I don't think I'll be forgetting that anytime soon. It sure as hell wasn't in the job description. I'll be asking Nikolai for hazard pay tonight."
The mention of Nikolai dashed my spirits, but I managed to keep a smile in place for Ten. We settled on a sci-fi film and its sequel and lapsed into a comfortable silence. My mind strayed from the juicy plot of the movie. What was Nikolai doing right now? Was he still with her? Were they…?
I couldn't even bring myself to think the words. Hugging my waist, I stared at the screen and tried to lose myself in the films. The carbohydrate heavy lunch plus the smoothie and the normal exhaustion of pregnancy hit me hard as we were starting the second film. Not even the explosions and slick graphics could maintain my interest. My eyelids drifted together, and I surrendered to the heavy pull of sleep.
"Vee?" Fingertips trailed down my cheek. "Zolota."
Inhaling deeply, I blinked rapidly and came awake to the sight of Nikolai crouched down beside me. He wore a tender expression and gently stroked my face. "How are you feeling?"
His simple question caused a rush of emotions that left me feeling twisted and angry inside. Batting away his hand, I struggled to sit up on my own. "Where is Ten?"
Nikolai frowned and sat back on his heels. "He stayed here with you until I came home. He's gone, but I can get him back if you needed something."
"I'm fine."
"Are you?" He tilted his head as if to study me. "You don't look well."
"I'm fine." I repeated the words tersely and finally found the strength to shove off the sectional.
"No, you're not." Crouched in front of me again, he clasped my shoulders and peered at my face. "You look terrible."
"Gee, thanks." I pushed away his hands and struggled to my feet.
"Stop." He clutched at my waist but I was faster and got away from him. "Vee! Wait. What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Everything. My chest ached, and my stomach swirled. I didn't want to do this right now. I didn't want to hear him say what I feared most. Would he even tell me the truth?
"Solnyshka." He caught up with me at the door. His hand settled on my hip and he expertly spun me around until my back was against the wall. One hand cupped my face, and his thumb glided along my skin. The scent of his cologne and soap filled my nose. It was a smell that usually made my heart race and caused such primitive, lustful urges. Right now, I inhaled the smell but for all the wrong reasons. I wasn't try to breathe him in. No, I was searching for a hint of her.
"Vee," he whispered. "What's wrong?"
My head cleared, and I took a good, long look at him. The color of his tie and shirt caught my attention. Last night, when I had come to bed after him, I had seen the suit, tie and shirt he had selected for today hanging in the closet. He had chosen a grey suit, white shirt, and a navy tie with pale blue diagonal stripes.
But he was wearing the steel blue tie with the delicate silver circle pattern that he kept in the office at Samovar with his backup white shirt.
"What happened to your other shirt and tie?"
His hand dropped from my face, and he glanced down at his chest. "There was a spill at the restaurant."
"At Samovar?" I couldn't help the suspicious tone that invaded my voice.
He nodded. "Lidia didn't see me coming across the floor. You know how clumsy she can be."
It was the perfect cover story. I had been there the night Lidia had accidentally spilled a glass of red wine all over Bianca. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe it really had happened that way.
Or maybe he had dumped the shirt and tie because they were saturated in her perfume or stained with her lipstick.
"Did you get everything you needed at the mall?" He tucked stray strands of my hair behind my ear. Had he done the same thing for Tatiana? Had the hands that I loved so much touched her intimately? Lovingly?
"Yes." My voice was soft and small. It was all I could do to stand there and not break down in front of him. I wasn't sure where the strength that welled inside me came from but I embraced it. I wasn't going to cry. Not now. "And you? How was your day?"
He shrugged. "It was the same as every other day. Business as usual."
There wasn't a trace of anything suspicious on his face. If I hadn't overheard him with Tatiana today, I never would have even suspected anything was wrong. The wrongness of this whole fucking mess hit me like a punch to the gut.
Nikolai, my husband and the only man I had ever loved, was standing in front of me, had me pressed between a wall and his hard, hot body while his possessive hands cupped and caressed my skin—and he was lying to me. He was lying right through his teeth.
The realization that I had been so easily fooled by him took me out at the knees. My entire world started to tilt, and only his arms kept me from hitting the ground. I crumpled against him. The feel of his powerful arms scooping me up was a sensation I loved and hated in the same moment. Unbidden images of Nikolai, my Nikolai, sweeping up Tatiana and tossing her on a messy hotel bed flashed in front of me.
Not mine, I glumly acknowledged. Maybe he was never mine. She had a claim on him first, didn't she? In reality, I was the interloper.
"You need to rest," Nikolai urged as he carried me upstairs and into our bedroom. "Pregnancy, stress and the heat aren't a good mix for you."
I bit back a bitter laugh. Stress? The stress you're causing me, you mean?
But I didn't say the words. I wasn't brave enough, and I was tired. I was so damn tired.
He tugged back the comforter and top sheet with one hand and placed me onto my side of the bed. I didn't move and avoided looking at his face as he removed all of my clothing. He ducked into the closet and returned with one of my loose cotton nightgowns. Once I was clothed again, he pressed me back to the bed and covered me with the sheet.
His hip touched mine as he stroked my face. "Are you hungry? Would you like me to bring you dinner?"
The thought of eating made my stomach clench. "No. I just…I want to sleep."
