“You’re close to me.”
“We’re not fucking.” He cocked his head to the side. “Unless—”
“Even if you were the last man on earth, I’d screw a porcupine before I touched you.”
A laugh rumbled in his chest, and he pushed his fingers through his hair only for the strands to fall back onto his forehead.
“Look, E, if I’m wrong, tell me why you stopped looking for you know who? He’s the one you needed to find. In my opinion, you shouldn’t have stopped looking. Andrei Falcone from Grenada’s the only guy I’ve heard you talk about.”
She had stopped looking.
Destiny, however, had kept Dom in its search bar.
“Know what would be funny?” Colin tittered a laugh, gearing up for his own joke. “If, when you finally meet Dominik Sokolov, he’s hot.”
Oh, the irony.
“Why would that be funny?” she asked.
“The ethical quandary it would present.”
“You think I have sex with guys just because they’re good looking?”
“Don’t you?”
True, her desire to have sex with Andrei-Dominik had initially been because he was good looking. But she’d then found herself liking him. Genuinely. They’d interacted like they’d known each other longer than two weeks. He didn’t take things, or himself, too seriously. Seeing his tall frame and dark hair headed to the front desk had been the highlight of her day. And the man had sent her roses. The last time she’d gotten flowers from a man, they’d been attached to a corsage at senior prom.
“What do you think, E?” Colin asked, breaking through her thoughts. “Would you’d risk our entire operation for cock?”
Apparently.
“We’re still meeting up later, right?” she asked, dancing around the landmine of a question. “Do we have any new information I should be aware of?”
“Ahh, yes.” Colin hopped up, retrieved his tablet, and returned to his seat next to her. “Randy let me know that there’s two parts to Koronatsiya. The first part’s called Dostavka.”
Her phone chimed, Gideon letting her know he was downstairs.
“‘Presentation’?” she asked. “Of what?”
“It’s some kind of engagement ceremony.”
Eija slung her Ekaterina-approved crochet tote bag over her shoulder and rose onto shaky legs. “The Sokolovs have several guests staying with them. They’re all…”
Women.
They were all young, beautiful women. With their mothers.
“All what?” Colin asked.
“Women.”
“Probably there for Dominik?”
She swallowed. “Probably.”
“So, they’re there and he isn’t? What the fuck? None of this makes sense. If they’re there for him, when does he see them?”
“They leave during the day.” She headed to the front door. “I’m guessing it’s to meet up with him somewhere, outside of the penthouse, probably for privacy. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later. Keep me updated. You know I enjoy the messages and pictures I get throughout the day. Keeps my head on straight, you know?”
He smiled. “Of course. We’ll see you later, E.”
Eija took the elevator to the first floor and allowed herself to wallow in a little disappointment. Just like Dom had his duty, she had a job to do. What they had in Grenada was in the past, and her thinking otherwise only made her look like a fool when she’d dedicated her life to looking just the opposite. Even the smallest notion that there could be something more between them needed to remain in her head or between the pages of a book written by the Brothers Grimm.
Gideon stood next to the open back driver’s side door. She greeted him with a wave.
It was still dark out, a typical early spring morning in Moscow, and she closed her coat tighter against a gust of wind that numbed the tips of her ears.
“Good morning,” Gideon said, helping her into the car and then sliding in next to her. “I have tea. It should warm you right up.”
“Sweet.” She took the warm, covered paper cup from his hand. “And good morning. Your English is getting good.”
“Spasibo.”
“You’re welcome.” She raised the cup to her lips. “Oh, I almost forgot! Updates, please. The last thing I saw was that Natasha had something huge to tell Oleg. I’m assuming it’s about her affair with Igor?”
Gideon shook his head. “No…it’s a secret baby.”
Eija’s eyes opened wide. “Oleg’s?”
“Igor’s.”
“But I thought Igor was sterile from the explosion!”
As he went through all what had happened in a Russian drama they both watched but she needed to be caught up on, Mikhail pulled away from the building.
Chapter 11
“I want children.”
“I don’t want children.”
Eija pretended to be occupied with her food, but her ears were absorbing every word of one of the oddest exchanges she’d ever come across. First, the auburn-haired woman with the blue eyes sitting next to Dom had introduced herself as his wife. When he corrected her, the woman had simply smiled and said her name was Mila. Mila’s father was a Czech business tycoon, also in the business of international crime. INTERPOL knew of Mila’s father, so if Mila became Yuri’s daughter-in-law, it would be a major power play for both men’s legitimate and illegitimate businesses. Great for them but more work for INTERPOL.
Mila set down her fork and turned to Dom. “You don’t want children?”
Dom, this morning looking more like Yuri in a tailored navy blue suit and white shirt, avoided looking Eija’s way. He’d avoided looking at her the entire morning, treating eye contact with her like looking directly into an eclipse. With Nikolai at school, it was only five of them—her, Mila, Dom, Ekaterina, and Yuri.
“No,” Dom said, his tone firm. “I don’t want children.”
“Don’t you want an heir?” Mila prodded.
Dom closed his eyes, letting a groan fully make its way through his body.
“What century is this? An heir?”
“Well, I want children. I don’t understand why anyone wouldn’t.”
“They’re expensive,” Eija offered. “They require a lot of emotional support and engagement. In my opinion, if you’re on the fence about having one, don’t. Not until you’re sure. And, if you’re not sure, take extra…intimate precautions. It’s necessary to be on the same page about children before marrying someone.”
Dom stuffed his face with eggs and sliced sausages.
“Eija’s right,” Yuri said, waving his fork at Dom. “I’ll make sure Pavel adds this question to the list of things I would like you to speak about on your dates, Dominik.”
“I’d still marry you,” Mila insisted. “You’ll change your mind once my clothes are off.”
Dom and Yuri choked.
Ekaterina’s groan matched Dom’s from earlier.
Amused, Eija dug into her stack of blini. The cook, Ludmila, had topped her pancakes with jam just the way she liked them. She and Ludmila had taken to each other the quickest. Ludmila loved to gossip, and gossip was just a different form of intel. When she got another chance, she’d swing by the kitchen for another “debriefing” session.
Mila swung her spoon through the air, her semolina porridge virtually untouched. “How many more girls are there? What’s my competition like?”
“There are several more.” Ekaterina lasered Mila with a sharp look. “Consider that the next time you think about what happens once your clothes are off.”
Eija, stifling a giggle, spoke again. “Forgive me for my ignorance, but I’m not familiar with this process. Is it one date and then a decision is made, or is it multiple dates? Do the couples have to remain chaste?”
If Dom didn’t slow down, he would choke.
Yuri set down his fork. “Dominik?”
Dom took a gulp of coffee, and his food went down his throat in a thick lump. Finally, their eyes connected.
“It’s called Dostavka,” he barely said, the food still tightly making its way down his throat. “The presentation of the newly engag—anyhow, the process is a little like…are you familiar with the show, The Bachelor?”
Eija cocked her head to the side. “Um, no. Can you explain it to me? In detail?”
His jaw ticked.
She licked her lips to hide a smile.
“We go on one date,” he explained. “After that date, those of us who connect go on to a round two of sorts.”
Mila added, “Those Dominik chooses.”
“So, you make the choice?” Eija pointed her fork at him. “Why do you get to make the choice? Why don’t the women?”
A wide smile spread across his face. “I like the way you think, Miss K.”
“Truthfully, I don’t mind it.” Mila stirred her porridge, her gaze burning a hole in Eija’s forehead. “In some cultures and traditions, it would be an old guy. At least Dom’s young and attractive. Very attractive.”
Jealousy popped up like a jack-in-the-box, ready to fight, and Eija turned away so Dom wouldn’t see the light green her complexion had transformed into.
“What other questions would you propose, Miss K?” Yuri asked. “You seem to have quite the insight.”
Eija polished off her blini and dabbed at her mouth with a designer cloth napkin. Before this op, she’d had no idea fashion designers made table napkins.
“Well, what about…personalities? Mila, you seem more of the outgoing type. Dominik, you seem just the opposite.”
“Opposites attract,” Mila spat. “I can get him to open up.”
“Seems like a lot of work for one man.”
“Not for this one.”
Eija’s mouth quirked. “Expectations of monogamy, then.”
Ekaterina set down her utensils and gave all her attention to the couple. “That’s a good one.”
A servant entered the dining hall and Dom held up his mug, all but begging for more coffee. The way everyone stared at him, Mila with her brows lifted into her hairline, no amount of distraction would get them to deviate from the topic at hand. Even if he tried to change the subject, Eija parted her lips, ready to redirect.
Mug refilled, he drew a long sip.
“Well?” Mila asked.
He swallowed. “I…I don’t know.”
“You don’t know if you want to be monogamous?” Mila shrieked. “What would be the point of all of this if we want to be in the arms of someone else?”
Eija felt like she was back at The Bolshoi Theatre. Not even her and Gideon’s Russian dramas were this good.
Dom glanced at Eija. “This isn’t about love, Mina—”
“Mila,” Eija corrected, and the look he gave her had her crossing her arms to hide her tightening nipples.
He continued. “Mila, you and I aren’t two people in love, so I expect nothing from you.”
“I don’t intend to fool around on you!”
Eija pushed away her empty plate and feasted on a bowl of berries like popcorn. She didn’t expect for her and Dom to fall in love or find themselves in a relationship. At the end of this, she’d have to arrest him. Still, he’d asked her out, knowing full well he would be married to someone soon. Watching him squirm this morning would be, without a doubt, the best part of her day.
Mila set the folded napkin from her lap on the tabletop. “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Sokolov, for your hospitality, but my mother and I will be leaving tonight.”
“You are excused,” Yuri said.
With a huff, Mila pushed out her chair, straightened her gown, and stormed out of the dining room. The gown was pretty, and it accentuated the girl’s lovely shape. The colors, however, reminded Eija of salsa.
Dom cleared his throat.
Eija didn’t look at him.
He cleared his throat louder.
“Drink some water, Dominik,” Yuri chided. “You’re lucky you didn’t choke with the way you were eating earlier. Did you skip eating yesterday altogether? Pace yourself.”
They finished breakfast, which had been mostly Yuri and Ekaterina talking about their plans for that day. For two people who’d been married for as long as they’d been, to Eija, the conversation seemed shallow. They talked at each other instead of to each other. However, dry conversation or not, she’d paid attention to them to avoid Dominik’s stare attempting to add another piercing hole to her ear.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Yuri piped up. “Miss K, you’ll be accompanying me next month to London.”
Eija let her guard slip for a second.
“London?”
“I have business out there, and I’ll need your English-speaking capabilities in some meetings where I won’t have Dominik. I also want to bring Nikolai, so it’ll be convenient to have you there. We will stay one week.”
Shit.
She’d had zero expectations of leaving the country, but what could she do, say no?
“I’m honored, Mr. Sokolov.”
“Dominik, this will be important for you as well,” Yuri added. “Can you make sure Miss K’s accommodations are adequate? We’ll stay at the Havre.”
“Are you sure you want him to do something so menial?” Eija asked.
“You’re a special guest of ours,” Dom replied. “I think it makes more sense that we handle this directly instead of handing it off.”
From the wicked gleam in Dom’s eyes, she felt like he would book her a room where, if she rolled off the bed, she’d fall through the floor and on top of him below. If they were both naked, it could make for an interesting—
Eija.
Her thoughts were correct to scold her.
Each day she spent with this man without telling Colin she’d already ID’d him was another day she compromised the mission. Dom would pose for the damn picture if she asked him. So, why didn’t she just take it and send it in?
After breakfast, Yuri retreated to his office. Ekaterina disappeared to do whatever it was the woman did during the day. Eija went to the library to prepare Nikolai’s English lessons for later. She also needed to update Colin. He’d created a website that, at face value, looked like something she would access to find resources and games to use with Nikolai. However, he’d embedded a way for them to send encrypted messages to one another.
Eija: Going to London.
Next month.
Colin: How long?
Eija: One week.
“I’m pissed at you.”
Eija yelped and reflexively minimized the game window. “Dom. Hey.”
“I see you got used to my name.”
She made a noncommittal noise.
“What was that earlier?” he asked, arms folded and legs bumping the front edge of the desk. “I should put you over my knee.”
“You should.”
His confident smirk fell. “Wait, seriously?”
She closed out the game. “You need to remember your future wives’ names, Sokolov. Because of you, Mila and her mother are ‘leaving tonight.’ Now you won’t get to see her with her clothes off.”
He dragged his gaze over her body. “I’ll live.”
Eija looked away to avoid doing the same to him.
“By the way,” he prefaced, and she prepared herself, “how do you go from managing a resort to becoming a nanny?”
It was one of the first questions she’d practiced. The caveat was, she couldn’t give the same answer each time, just the same reason.
“I needed fulfillment.”
“And you’ve taught in Russia before too?”
“For a little over a year.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why would I have, Andrei Falcone?”
If he’d told her he had a Russian background, it could have come up in conversation. Then again, if he’d told her he had a Russian background, she would have done a full workup on him. There would have been no dancing under restaurant lights, no lunch dates, no Fish Friday, kissing, or hand-holding, and non
e of the best sex she’d ever had in her life. If she worked hard enough, she’d eventually convince herself that missing all of that wouldn’t have been a bad thing if the trade-off would have been getting the right guy.
He chased his palm over the top of his head. A part of her missed the wavy hair but, like this, he was ruggedly handsome. Sexy in a “fuck me, but don’t fuck with me” kind of way.
“What do you do after you finish Nikolai’s plans?” he asked.
“I get two hours for lunch and today, I have errands to run for Ekaterina. Then, Gideon and I pick Nikolai up from school, and he’s my responsibility for the rest of the afternoon.”
“All I heard was two hours for lunch. Have lunch with me.”
“My neck hurts looking up at you.”
“Let me sit there.” He pointed at her chair. “You can sit on my lap.”
“Dom, what do you and a sandwich maker have in common?”
The space between his brows wrinkled. Then, he laughed, and the contrast between his dark features and eyes so light they almost looked silver jarred her. He’d been good looking in Grenada. Extremely good looking. Now that she knew who he was, how did that make him even more gorgeous?
“We both lay it on real thick,” he answered.
“Yep.” She grinned. “I’m not sitting on your lap.”
She wanted to, but she wouldn’t.
He stepped around the desk, crouched in front of her, and spun her to face him. “Better?”
“How long can you stay like that?”
“Aww, are you worried about me?”
She glanced at the door, which he’d closed when he walked in. The man’s potential fiancée was walking around the Sokolov penthouse. She’d definitely get the boot if anyone caught her kissing him, no matter how much she wanted to. What they were doing now was already over the line.
“Eija, since you treated me in Grenada,” someone knocked on the door, “I’d like to take you to get some,” the person knocked louder, “authentic Russian cuisine.”
She leaned toward him, hands over his ears.
“What are you doing?” he whispered.
She mouthed, “Can you hear me?”
“You’re not saying anything, but I can read your lips.”
Prince of the Brotherhood: A Mafia Romance Page 9
