Prince of the Brotherhood: A Mafia Romance

by K. Alex Walker

  He laughed. “Think that’s supposed to be the other way around.”

  “Not really. Just as much as I like your arms around me,” she yawned again, “you like my arms around you. At least, that’s what the hundreds of men I’ve slept with have told me.”

  He smacked her on the ass. “Keep fucking around and see what happens.”

  “Okay.” She grinned. “I will.”

  She raised the covers, and he got in beside her. Instantly, the warmth of her body soothed his muscles and loosened the tension that had been docked in his chest all night.

  He dragged her up against him.

  She cupped the left side of his jaw and stared like she was trying to navigate her way through his soul.

  “You make this so hard,” she whispered.

  “Or you do,” he argued. “Eija, you think this is over? Maybe it would have been had fate not conspired to fling us back together. But we’re here now and you’ll learn, sooner or later, what this is eventually going to be.”

  She snuggled against him. “I’ll fight it.”

  “And you’ll lose.”

  If it took them lying on the sofa, her stroking his head while they watched television, to show her he was serious, it was what he’d do. Something about her told him that he needed her.

  That he could trust her.

  No matter what.

  Chapter 16

  Two months until Dostavka-Koronatsiya

  When Dom showed up, Eija was at the tail end of a five minute mental flagellation session.

  But it hadn’t started out that way.

  It had started with anxiety, regret, and a scoop of self-loathing. She’d sprinkled self-doubt on top, so when she opened the door and found him standing on the other side, it didn’t surprise her when his face told her she looked like shit. People usually did when they didn’t sleep, had mints and cookies for breakfast, and the past and the present collided like a tub full of atoms.

  “What are you doing here?” She stepped away from the door, allowing him to enter. At least, she’d blow-dried and flat-ironed her hair the day before, so that was one less thing to worry about.

  “Picking you up.” He shut the door behind him. “Did you sleep, at all, last night?”

  How could she? She’d become one of those people who jeopardized secret missions with clandestine government organizations. And because of what? Dick? Cock? Penis? Shimmering eyes, an easygoing personality, and a gorgeous smile? Which one was it? What, exactly, was she risking her career for?

  The other thing.

  “Eija.” He placed himself between her and the window she’d been aimlessly staring through. “What’s up? What’s going on?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane?”

  “Like I said, I’m picking you up. We’re taking the same flight.”

  The man even looked good in a turtleneck, slacks, polished dress shoes, and a long wool coat. She was pretty sure her sweater was on backwards or inside out. Both, probably.

  “You’re flying commercially?” she asked.

  He dragged her over to the sofa, sat on the arm, and pulled her between his knees. “I never take my father’s jet. Now, talk to me.”

  “I think I’m coming down with something.” She sniffled for effect. “Nikolai had a runny nose the other day.”

  “Are you sure you can make the trip?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

  He smoothed his palms up and down the sides of her arms. “Is that all?”

  Tell him!

  Don’t tell him!

  Angels and demons danced on her shoulders, but it was the demons who wanted him to know.

  “Eija.”

  She blinked a few times. “Yeah, that’s all. Why? Do I look that bad?”

  “I’m actually not sure that’s possible for you.” He tucked her hair behind her left ear. “You do look like something, or someone, broke your heart, and I’m in a weird spot where I’m hoping it’s me.”

  She slipped her finger inside the top of his turtleneck. “You look nice too…even though people stopped wearing turtlenecks in 1999.”

  “Know what?” He gently nudged her aside, stood, and headed for the door. “I’m not offering you any more comfort. Ever again.”

  She chased him and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

  “Nope.” He pulled at her locked hands. “You hurt my feelings.”

  “But you didn’t even let me finish! What I meant was, people stopped wearing turtlenecks in 1999…unless they were models in a JCPenney catalog.”

  “Let me go, woman. And don’t even think about sitting next to me on the plane.”

  She laughed and squeezed tighter. “I’m kidding. You look cute.”

  “You’re only saying that because you want to sit next to me.”

  “No, you look good.” She released him and formed a square with her thumb and index finger on each hand. “You look perfect. Amazing. Dom, you in all black is…artwork.”

  They stared at each other until she convinced herself them kissing, at that very moment, would be a bad idea. She didn’t know what he told himself to snap out of the trance, but he looked away, grabbed her beanie from on top of her suitcase, and pulled it onto her head.

  “Now, how do I look?” she asked.

  He cracked a grin. “Edible.”

  “Well,” she took a step forward, “maybe you can take those enormous hands of yours and put them…on my…suitcase handle.”

  He grabbed her suitcase. “You’re going to turn yourself on to the point of no return one of these days. Don’t come looking for me when you do.”

  “Why, you’d turn me away?”

  “That’s the thing.” He took her hand. “No. I would not.”

  While her brain sifted through his answer to find meaning, between her legs understood. Right away.

  They headed down to the car.

  Dom never took his father’s jet, but that didn’t mean he flew like a peasant like her and the rest of her constituency. They had plush, first-class seats and, after a big breakfast, she caught up on some of the sleep she’d missed out on the night before. At one point, she woke up to his arm around her and pretended to still be asleep until she eventually drifted off again.

  The plane’s wheels touching the runway jolted her awake.

  They exited, her gloved hand tucked in his, and she didn’t fully wake up until they came to the airport’s bright lights and windows blasting with sunshine, the terminal busy in that way airports always were. It wasn’t her first time at Heathrow, but she read the welcome signs and studied the British flags along the corridor as though it was. It was her first time walking through where she wasn’t so focused on her next task, she could look around and take in the sights. Breathe a little.

  Dom squeezed her hand as they meandered through the crowd. The conspiratorial grins and winks she got from other women made her grin and wink back.

  They knew.

  She knew.

  The man holding her hand was nice.

  “Are we not going to the baggage carousel?” she asked, looking back as they passed it.

  “Somebody will get our bags for us.” He extended a leather-covered index finger. “There’s our car.”

  A Mercedes sedan waited at the curb, and they relaxed in the warm cabin while the driver retrieved their luggage. Dom tapped the seat between them with his middle finger, and she rolled her eyes but slipped her fingers through his, indulging in the flush that went through her body.

  “Ever been to the Havre in London?” he asked, thumb stroking her palm.

  Eija let out a small laugh. “Dominik, in what world can I afford a twenty-thousand-dollar per night suite?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Figured some rich guy might have wined and dined you.”

  “Hasn’t happened, but it’s not a bad idea. We’re here for a week. I’ll find one.”

  “Don’t look too hard now.”

  Smiling, she turned a
way from him, giving her attention to the world outside her window.

  Even though every time she’d come to London it had been for work, she’d always taken a moment to marvel at how green it was. The sky was gray more often than it was blue, but all the trees looked like they’d been nourished by hand. Certain spots reminded her of visiting Richmond and others of driving through Detroit. None of it, however, reminded her of Grenada. The globe was so vast with different nooks and pockets, and she was part of a team tasked with teasing out some of the seediest criminals known to man from those nooks and pockets. None of those criminals had been like the man sitting across from her, but she couldn’t tell if it was jaded thinking or if Dom truly was…different.

  “Sir, Madam, we have arrived at the Havre,” the driver announced.

  Parked in front of the hotel were a pair of Ferraris, and the establishment might as well had posted a sign that said, Poor People Needn’t Venture Further.

  She and Dom released their caged fingers.

  While the driver retrieved their bags from the trunk, he leaned across and snuck a kiss against her cheek. “This is me being friendly and letting you know I’ll be thinking about you this week,” he said. “In a purely platonic manner.”

  She eyed him. “Thinking of me naked doesn’t count as platonic.”

  “What if it’s you naked in the middle of a room while I paint you?”

  “Are my legs closed or open?”

  His eyes rolled upward. “I see your point.”

  The door on her side opened.

  She placed her hand in the driver’s and stepped out while Dom got out on the other side.

  The hotel entrance swallowed her whole and washed her down with opulence. A beautiful chandelier and matching wall sconces brightened the entryway. The Havre’s decor was a collision of the old and the new, antique and contemporary, from the checkered floors to the large windows and dark paneling. She didn’t know how she would return to her average life in her flat, barely big enough for two, when this op was over.

  “Miss K!” Nikolai raced over and crashed into her legs. “You made it!”

  She crouched and wrapped him up in a tight hug. Virtually everything else about Nanny K might be fake, but her adoration for Nikolai was genuine.

  “I did. I’m so glad to see you.”

  “Have you seen your room yet?” he asked.

  “No, not yet. I’m excited to see it. How is yours?”

  “It’s attached to Grandma and Papa’s room. It’s very big and bright. We can see the river out of the window.”

  “Big and bright? Hmm…” She tapped her chin, mouth twisting. “How would we say that in English, you think?”

  He scrunched his face in that cute way he did whenever he focused. “Big and bite.”

  “Bright.”

  “Bright,” he echoed.

  “Very good.”

  Yuri and Ekaterina said their hellos before disappearing with Nikolai in a swarm of hotel guests. Just as they walked off, Dom appeared with her room key and slipped it into her hand.

  “Does this also open your room?” she asked.

  He held out his hand. “Let me go fix that for you.”

  “Kidding.” She swatted his coat with the piece of plastic. “Don’t tempt me.”

  “I’m not the one doing the tempting, Eija.” Before she could get a step off, he wrapped his fingers around her forearm. “I have a meeting in an hour and then the rest of my day’s filled. At some point, however, I’d like for us to have lunch or breakfast. Maybe dinner. A snack, a pretzel stick. Something. I know what we talked about, but heaven help me, Eija, I can’t stay away from you.”

  Her stomach took a tumble, and her heart wanted to follow suit.

  “We’ll meet up when both our schedules are clear,” she promised. “Have you looked at them yet? I’m not sure when sleep’s supposed to happen.”

  He bent, his lips near her ear. “I’ll find time.”

  She turned her head, placing their mouths inches apart. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  On the first day, she got about an hour’s worth of rest, and then she spent the rest of the day as Yuri’s unofficial translator. Everyone they met let her know how shocked and impressed they were with her Russian because Americans, as they’d told her repeatedly, barely knew how to speak English.

  On the second day, she, Pavel, and Mikhail took Nikolai around Trafalgar Square. Nikolai had attempted to read every sign and plaque they came across, and Pavel had to pick him up to read the ones that had towered above his head. Pavel had replaced Gideon as her personal security, and she figured it had to do with the “keep your enemies closer” adage. Something happened that first night Dom came over to her apartment, and it had placed Gideon high on Yuri’s shit list. She hoped, wherever Yuri had reassigned Gideon, the new person loved Russian dramas as much as Gideon did.

  They took pictures in front of and on top of the Trafalgar Square lions. By three o’clock in the afternoon, after lunch and a tour of the National Gallery, Pavel had to carry Nikolai on his back because he’d nearly fallen asleep standing up.

  On the third day, they took the iconic big bus tour, and Nikolai stood the entire time, pointing out structures he recognized from when they’d gone over them that morning, in both English and Russian. The landmark he found most fascinating was Tower Bridge, and the bridge was all he talked about until he fell asleep again, in Pavel’s arms, this time a little after four.

  The fourth day, she spent the morning in meetings with Yuri and managed to catch a glimpse of Dom walking through the lobby with a group of men in expensive-looking suits. His was slim fit, gray, and he’d worn it with a striped blue silk tie tucked into the vest. When their eyes met, his had lit up. Actually lit up. He’d then smiled and winked before they’d continued walking in separate directions.

  That same afternoon, she and Pavel took Nikolai around the playgrounds in Hyde Park because they’d spent so much time doing what his grandparents wanted, they decided to spend the afternoon doing what he wanted. It turned out to be a learning experience for him, as there were children of varying backgrounds present, so he’d had to communicate with them in the only language they all shared—English. Currently, Pavel was pushing him on the swings while the two of them chatted about Tower Bridge. As she watched them, her mind eventually replaced Pavel with Dom and Nikolai with a little curly-haired girl. The image lingered for less than five seconds.

  That was even more dangerous territory.

  Her phone rang. Smiling, she brought it to her ear.

  “Who gave you my number?”

  “Doesn’t matter. What are you up to?”

  “Me and Pavel are at the park with Nikolai,” she said, eyes following Nikolai wherever he went. “They’re playing, I’m watching. What are you up to?”

  “I have roughly two minutes between meetings.”

  “And you called me?”

  “I wanted to hear your voice.”

  Her temperature rose a few degrees. “It doesn’t look like we’ll get snack time in with how much our schedules keep alternating.”

  “What about tonight?” Someone called his name, and he told them he’d be right there. “I have time tonight.”

  “I’m working on something for Yuri tonight.”

  She wasn’t.

  “Fuck, you’ve got to be shitting me.” The person called out again. “Look, I have to go, but I’ll call you later. We’ll figure this out.”

  She’d taken Colin’s advice. “Mama” had to get back in the game, put herself out there, so the night before her flight, she’d searched for local singles groups in London around Westminster. Tonight, a few from the group had arranged to meet at a pub off Parliament street, less than ten minutes from the hotel by car, and she’d chatted pretty heavily with one man in the group all week—Wesley Langstaff.

  “We will,” she said. “Have a good meeting.”

  He groaned. “It’s a meeting, but thank you.”

&n
bsp; They hung up.

  Dom’s charm had worn her down, and not sleeping with him was the very last stone holding up her crumbling wall of defense. Crossing that threshold would mean definitively throwing the entire op into the toilet, since sex with Dom wouldn’t be like sex with anyone else. Sex with Dom would ruin her, and she would enjoy the ruination.

  Pavel headed over, a drowsy Nikolai on his back. When they were in front of her, she smoothed Nikolai’s hair until his eyes shut. Things she’d never imagined for herself had begun taking up space in her thoughts. Though it wasn’t much space, it was more than she’d ever granted those “things” before.

  From what she’d learned by decoding conversations with Ludmila and Manya, Pavel had met Dom on a few occasions. But, like everyone else, it appeared Yuri had led him to believe that Dom was a nephew borne from one of Yuri’s father’s numerous extramarital affairs. Considering how little Dom resembled Yuri, no one had questioned it, and no one ever questioned Yuri. However, Eija didn’t believe Yuri had let her know, right off the bat, that Dom was his son for absolutely no reason. Right now, she simply wasn’t in a position yet to do anything about it.

  “We should head back,” Pavel said, cradling Nikolai in his arms. “Nikolai’s done for the night. If there’s any pressure from Yuri or Kat to do any further activities, I’ll cover for you.”

  She nodded.

  Pavel dropped Nikolai off at his grandparents’ suite.

  Eija went to hers and checked in with Colin and April. Their video chat took a few hours, so right after it ended, she hurried to the shower. While actively trying to not think of Dom—which the chat had made it ten times harder to avoid—she swiped on some makeup and slipped into a long-sleeved body suit, a skirt, leggings, and thigh-high boots.

  Pavel met her downstairs to let her know she wouldn’t be walking or taking public transit, so she allowed Mikhail to drive her the five minutes to the pub. Only Mikhail left afterward.

  “I’ll blend in,” Pavel said, following her inside. As if the six-foot-four beast of a man wearing all black could blend in anywhere.