Prince of the Brotherhood: A Mafia Romance

by K. Alex Walker

  Lyu meowed in contempt, hopped to the floor, and left the room.

  “Yes, Papa. Miss Korichnevna’s going home. Why can’t she live with us like my other nannies?”

  Because Ekaterina had caught the last nanny naked in bed with Yuri.

  Dom glanced at the door, which Nikolai had left slightly ajar. Suddenly, he was fumbling the cigar. It nearly fell to the floor, and it would have burned a hole through the massive, fifteen-thousand dollar area rug.

  “Are you all right, Dom?” Yuri asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Dom squashed the end of the cigar against the platter on his father’s desk, set it down, and stepped out into the hallway. Her back was turned to him, and although she wore a silky, high-necked, long-sleeved blouse and wide-leg black pants—another requirement set in place by Ekaterina—he knew that body. Her hair was tucked into a bun, but he knew that hair. That scent, that jawline, those fingers…he’d dreamed about them.

  He walked up behind her, wrapped his fingers around her neck, and pushed her face-first against the wall.

  Chapter 8

  Eija extended her elbow into the jaw of whoever had thought it was smart to grab her from behind. It connected and the person, a man, groaned.

  He stumbled backward, but he caught himself and tried to pin her arms behind her back. She slammed the back of her head into his chin, elbowed him in the midsection, spun out of his grasp, and pushed him face-first against the wall like he’d done her, her knee in his back.

  They couldn’t have made her—too much work had gone into this op. Miss Korichnevna was an excellent nanny with a background that could have gotten her a job with any president, prime minister, or dictator. Randy had gotten her in as part of the line-up of nannies interviewed by the Sokolovs. The last caregiver, as anticipated, was ousted after her and Yuri’s torrid affair was uncovered.

  In the middle of the selection process, Colin had found out that Yuri and Ekaterina would be attending the ballet at The Bolshoi Theatre one evening. On the way to their reserved seats, an undercover agent posing as one of the theater staff had apologized profusely to Eija for getting her seating arrangement mixed up, in front of the couple. She’d berated him in flawless Russian and, as she stormed off, “bumped” into one of Sokolov’s guards, Gideon Medvedev, who’d caught her in her strapless red gown and silver high heels. As she thanked him, she’d glanced the couple’s way, and they’d recognized her from the interviews. She’d avoided Ekaterina’s gaze as she apologized, and the couple ended up inviting her to sit with them for the performance.

  During the intermission, Ekaterina had asked her to accompany her to the bathroom. There, Ekaterina had asked her if she was at the ballet because Yuri had invited her, to which Eija had nodded, thanking them both for the invitation. Ekaterina had then looked her up and down and said, “At least, if he falls in love, he can’t threaten to marry you.”

  She’d been there three months so far, and this asshole would not mess things up for her.

  “Let me go,” the man said, in English.

  “Now you want to speak?” she asked, shoving harder. “Why did you grab me?”

  He smelled like he’d just come from a cigar house. A smell she loathed. Her Papa had been an avid cigar smoker, and while she’d loved him dearly, she never quite developed a love for his habit.

  “Eija, it’s me.”

  “Me who?”

  “Eija…”

  She released him. The nature of the job and daily searches had made carrying a weapon difficult but not impossible.

  The person turned around.

  And she nearly died on the spot.

  He’d cut his hair, but the low cut didn’t detract from his naturally attractive features. The facial hair she’d wondered about on the island had grown out, which he kept as low as his hair. Then there were those eyes, as dangerous as lead yet as steamy as a heavy downpour on hot concrete.

  Andrei Falcone.

  She stepped forward, reaching up to touch the side of his face.

  He slapped her hand away.

  “Who do you work for?” he demanded.

  “Andrei, what are you talking about?” Handsome or not, he wouldn’t get her to blow a cover she’d spent over a year developing. “I work for Mr. and Mrs. Sokolov.”

  He frowned. “Why are you calling me Andrei?”

  “Because that’s your name.”

  “Didn’t you get my note?”

  “Ahh, I was hoping to introduce you two.” Yuri joined them in the hallway. “Dominik, this is Nikolai’s nanny, Miss Brown, aka Korichnevna. Miss K, this is my…son, Dominik Sokolov.”

  No.

  No, no, no.

  Fuck, this was bad.

  Not only had she bagged and tagged the wrong men in Grenada, she’d fucked the right one. She’d spent months thinking about him and, on her own time, trying to find him. He’d left so abruptly, it was like he’d never existed. Now she knew why.

  Dominik, those noxious eyes locked with hers, asked, “So, is it Brown or Korichnevna?”

  Yuri chuckled and patted Dominik’s shoulder. “When she first came, she and Nikolai worked on patronymics. Nikolai insisted he come up with a name for her.”

  And korichnevyy meant brown.

  They’d settled on Miss K.

  Eija kept her voice level through the use of brute strength and brute strength alone.

  “Dominik. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Nikolai talked about his “Uncle Dominik” all the time. She’d known, sooner or later, she’d see the face of the man she wanted to lock away, if not bury six feet under. This wasn’t the face she’d been expecting. This was the last face she’d expected to see. Yet, he looked at her like she was the one who’d hidden her identity their entire time together. At least, the only one who had.

  “Miss K,” Dominik said, dragging out the name. She wanted to look away, but she wouldn’t be first. “Nice to meet you as well.”

  Yuri stepped forward and kissed Eija’s cheek. “Miss K taught in Moscow years ago, fell in love with the city, and returned to teach after her grandfather’s death.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Dominik offered. “Was he sick for a while?”

  “It was sudden,” she said, curtly.

  In Grenada, she’d confided in him that her grandmother had been ill, but she’d always known her grandfather would pass before her nana.

  She stroked the fabric she’d had to button all the way up the column of her neck. With the initial shock gone, the memory of their last night together played, on a reel, through her mind. Dominik’s eyes fell to where she could feel her nipples trying to poke through, and she covered them with folded arms. She prayed that he simply assumed she was a crazy stalker who’d infiltrated his family's home to get closer to him. At worst, he’d soon figure out she worked in espionage for an international law enforcement agency.

  “Miss K!” Nikolai ran up and hugged her around the legs. “Can I walk you out?”

  She smoothed his hair. He was such a lovely child, it made this part of the job much easier. With his large glasses frames and blond hair, he was the spitting image of the kid from Jerry Maguire.

  “Yes, you may, but only if you ask me in English.”

  The space between his brows wrinkled. “May…I…walk you?”

  “May I walk you…to the car? Try it with me.”

  She recited, and he repeated.

  After a few attempts, he could say the entire sentence.

  Ekaterina and Yuri spoke English well enough to get a point across, but they wanted Nikolai to speak English with as close to a neutral accent as possible. Teaching English in Moscow had been another tick on her fake resume.

  Dominik crouched to his nephew’s eye level. “Nikolai, you should be in bed. I’ll walk Miss K to her car.”

  Nikolai grabbed Eija’s hand. “No. I want to do it.”

  “Nikolai…”

  Yuri intervened. “Dominik, let the boy walk her
out.”

  She bid the two men goodnight.

  Dominik followed and stood watching Nikolai help her into the car as though he expected her to run off with his nephew.

  Eija smiled, waved, and didn’t breathe until they’d left the property.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  Had she really had sex with one of the most dangerous men in the world?

  She sank into the car’s backseat across from Gideon, her private security. The Sokolovs had, at length, explained to her the necessity of privacy and confidentiality in their work as well as why she would need to go everywhere with a bodyguard and security detail. She’d eased their concerns by telling them that if she’d worked at Buckingham Palace, it would have been the same thing, and Yuri had enjoyed being thought of as royalty.

  Tchaikovsky filtered throughout the car, Gideon tapping his fingers in time to the string instruments. At night, Moscow lit up like any other major city, the difference so stark, it appeared to be otherwise asleep during the day. They passed Evolution Tower with its dancing lights and double-helix design, and there was still a little blue to the sky—a purple night instead of a dark, starless sheet of nothingness.

  Instead of living at the penthouse, the Sokolovs had set her up in an expensive Moscow apartment a short drive away. Her apartment was one of their properties, a modern flat with four bedrooms that overlooked the Moskva River. It was more luxury than she would ever see again in her lifetime, with its expensive marble countertops and glossy travertine floors. The concierge desk fulfilled any request she had, and when she wasn’t with Nikolai, Colin, or April, she swam, played tennis, and wore herself out at the gym.

  The rest of the staff, who’d warmed up to her quicker than she’d expected, had revealed what she already knew—Yuri and the former nanny had been having sex in the penthouse while Ekaterina slept. They’d warned her against doing the same, but as much as she liked to get hers, Yuri wouldn’t be on her radar any time soon.

  Or his son.

  His son.

  A shiver tickled her vertebrae.

  “Are you okay, Miss K?” Gideon asked. “Are you cold? I can have Mikhail turn the heat up.”

  Their driver peered at her through the rearview mirror.

  “I’m all right,” she said, waving off the suggestion. “Nice and toasty.”

  Colin and April had secured an apartment in the same building, through INTERPOL, where they posed as a young married couple. Colin worked in “technology” while April’s cover was that of an introverted author. Their place was homier than hers, with its exposed brick and wood floors. It had two bedrooms, one big enough for a Command Center, but they didn’t do any of their work onsite. Colin going to “work” was him going to the undisclosed location where all their equipment had been set up on the outskirts of Moscow.

  Initially, April hadn’t been part of the undercover lineup, but extenuating circumstances had changed that last minute. Circumstances not even Randy knew about. And it wasn’t that she didn’t trust Randy; however, his behavior in the months leading up to her assignment had convinced her that some things were best left secret.

  Gideon lightly touched Eija’s wrist. For a gang of killers, weapons dealers, and drug pushers, their touches were always gentle. They squeezed her hands and kissed her cheeks. And had she not known any better, she would have assumed they were the family-oriented businessmen they claimed to be.

  “Miss K, we’re here.”

  She yawned. “I’ll make it through one of these car rides awake one day, Gideon. I swear.”

  “Nikolai keeps you on your toes all day,” he pointed out, chuckling. “It’s normal to be tired by the end.”

  She smiled at him with his enormous frame, muscular neck, and arms clothed in tattoos.

  “Yes, but I adore him.”

  “He’s a lovely child, but don’t forget to pace yourself.”

  “I won’t. Thank you.” She leaned forward and touched Mikhail on the shoulder. “Spasibo, Mikhail. Dobroy nochi. Dobroy nochi, Gideon.”

  She hurried inside the building out of the cold, greeted the doorman, and stepped into the first available elevator.

  The apartment’s warmth enveloped her the second she stepped over the threshold. She headed past the floor-to-ceiling windows, straight to the bedroom to change. Ekaterina had requested that she cover herself up from chin to ankles. While she’d obliged the matriarch, clothes could only do so much to curb Yuri’s curiosity. More than once, she’d caught him studying what curves he could see.

  Eija stripped down to her bra and panties, went to the living room, and took a moment to compose herself before she called Colin and April on a secure line to check in.

  “Nothing today?” Colin greeted, slurping on something. It was probably Borscht, his new favorite food.

  “No,” she said. “Nothing.”

  It wasn’t until the words left her mouth that Eija realized she was going to withhold the Andrei-Dominik paradox from her partner. It was embarrassing to know Dominik had been right there, in her face, and she’d slept with him. Granted, he didn’t look anything like the profiles they’d created, but how was it that she’d never suspected Andrei? How hadn’t he even crossed her…

  Wait.

  Sokolov.

  It came from the Russian worked sokol which meant falcon. He’d told her his name was Andrei Falcone. If she’d bothered to think with her brain instead of her clit every once in a while, maybe she would have picked up on it.

  “Eija, you there?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She cleared her throat, which had tightened. “Look, Colin, Dominik is going to show his face. If not before Koronatsiya, we at least know he’s definitely going to be there. I’ll be ready.”

  “And what does ‘ready’ mean, babe?”

  “Don’t call me babe.”

  He laughed. “I only do it because you hate it.”

  She knew what he wanted to hear. Considering the sacrifices both he and April had made for her, especially with Colin’s loyalty to the job, he deserved the truth. She wouldn’t give him the truth, but it was nice to acknowledge that he deserved it.

  “It means I’ll stick to what we agreed on,” she said. “ID, isolation, and backup. When we leave Moscow, Sokolov will be with us.”

  The doorbell buzzed, and it was unusual that the doorman hadn’t called to ask her to confirm her guest.

  She walked to the panel on the wall near the door and pulled up the image.

  “Shit, Colin. It’s Yuri.”

  “Yuri? It’s,” he paused, “almost ten. What the fuck does he want this late?”

  “I think I know, but I’m hoping I’m wrong.”

  “E, don’t let him in.”

  Eija pushed the button on the panel, let Yuri know she would be there shortly, and returned to her conversation with Colin.

  “I can take him, if anything.”

  “Don’t fuck him.”

  She sucked her teeth. “Really? You think I want to?”

  Through the phone speaker, she heard chair legs scraping a hard surface. “I don’t think you want to, but you’ll do anything to avoid having your cover blown.”

  He was right.

  And wrong.

  No one ever accused him of wanting to sleep with everyone that walked into his path. It was only recently he’d slowed down because one night with April had put him in an obsessive brain fog.

  Eija ended the call, tied a robe around her body, and opened the door.

  Yuri didn’t look as dangerous as his title. It was the thing that had surprised her most, meeting him in person for the first time. He was in his late sixties, but he was one of those men whose silver hair made them look younger somehow. More refined and distinguished. Even this late, he still wore a full gray suit with a purple collared shirt underneath, the first button undone.

  “I’m sorry for the intrusion,” he said. “May I come in?”

  She stepped aside. “Of course.”

  It was his
property. He paid the doorman’s salary. Saying no wasn’t an option.

  He strolled to the center of the room, hands in his pockets, and looked around.

  “You haven’t added any personal touches.”

  “I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

  “Really? I see you as someone good at many things.”

  Here we go.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked.

  His mouth stretched into a wide smile. “Vodka.”

  She went to the kitchen, and he made himself comfortable on the living room sofa. This was a situation she wanted to be completely sober for, so she poured his vodka, filled a glass with water for herself, and joined him on the sofa, leaving enough space to appear friendly but not fearful.

  They raised their glasses in a silent toast, and he took a sip.

  “Very good vodka, Miss K.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Miss K?” He held the glass in both hands, thumb tracing the rim. “How is Nikolai doing, really? I worry about him. I don’t like to show it, but I do. His beginning life was…so difficult.”

  Eija leaned forward. “He’s doing well. Honestly, he is. There are places where he struggles, but I’ll help him through it all. It’s what you hired me to do, and what I was trained to do.”

  Yuri’s gaze fell to her chest.

  She leaned back until her bra went back into hiding inside the robe.

  “You’re very interesting, Miss K.” His Adam’s apple bobbed with another sip. “Most of Nikolai’s nannies have been just as intelligent and worldly, but there’s something more about you. You make him try harder. You make him relaxed. Hell, you make me relaxed.”

  “What happened to his last nanny?” she asked, hoping her face didn’t give away what she already knew.

  “I slept with her.” Yuri drained the remaining liquor in one gulp. “Kat didn’t like that very much. Not the sleeping with her part. The falling in love part.”

  “Are you a man who falls in love easily?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, kudos to you.” She raised her glass. “I’ve had my heart broken so many times, I’m not sure if I have the capacity to love anymore.”