“Are we there yet?”
“We’ll be landing soon. Sleep okay?”
She shrugged. “How’s your shoulder?”
“I’m fine.”
“What have you been doing?”
“Going over the plans for the weekend.”
The light blinked on, signaling for them to put on their seat belts. As they began the descent, Lauren dug through her carry-on for the camera she’d stashed inside, snapping a photo of the sprawling land outside her window. They even flew over the infamous Cristo Redentor that was just as amazing in person as it was in pictures.
There was a car waiting for them when they landed. Mishca greeted the driver easily, but Lauren could tell he wasn’t as familiar with the language as he was with Russian and French.
Lauren climbed in first, followed by Mishca and Vlad. It took minutes before they were pulling out and onto the street. Despite the ten-hour flight, and the hour long drive from the airfield, since she had slept on the plane, Lauren was wide awake now, taking in the sights as they drove past.
There were stands everywhere, selling fresh fruit, clothes, and a variety of other knick-knacks. It was bright here, so many vivid colors, and exotic birds that flew through the air, circling the green of the jungle.
Instead of a hotel, they were staying in a villa just steps from the beach. There were at least four bedrooms and as many bathrooms, with a spacious living area, the entirety of the place decorated in shades of white and taupe.
The master bedroom was on the ground floor, with doors opening out onto the deck that was extended out into the sand. There was enough foliage to give them privacy, but the flowers were beautiful to look at.
A king-sized canopy bed was set against the back wall, a giant portrait of the sunrise hanging in between two of the poles. Not surprisingly, there was not a television in the bedroom, and Lauren was actually glad of it.
When they had arrived, she had hoped to talk Mishca into taking her on a tour of the city, but as soon as she curled up on the bed, she fell asleep again.
Hours later, after she woke and freshened up, Lauren found Mishca out on the deck, a drink in hand. She had slept far longer than she realized, stars now blanketing the night sky.
“No jet lag for you?” She asked sitting in his lap, briefly kissing him.
He smiled, gesturing to his phone with a tilt of his head. “Had to make a few calls.”
“If Lucia’s auction is tomorrow, what are we going to do tonight?” Lauren asked as she leaned back, sighing at the feel of his arms slowly curling around her waist.
“I thought you might want to go out to the water.”
She hopped up quickly at that, ignoring his chuckling as she stripped out of her clothes, digging through her suitcase for her bikini. She was tying the strings to her top when Mishca walked back in, his eyes set on the stars on her chest. She doubted that he would ever get used to seeing them on her. Frankly, neither would she.
“Are you going to change?”
He quirked a brow as he undid his tie, tossing it on the bed. Now, it was Lauren’s turn to drink him in as he stripped. His shirt was next, then his socks and shoes, but he left on his pants.
Despite the cool breeze blowing over the ocean water, it was still warm enough for them to be comfortable. The beach was fairly vacant at this time of the night, but there were still a few out, farther down.
“It’s beautiful out here,” Lauren said absently, walking up to just the edge of the water as the tide rushed in.
The moon hung heavily in the night sky, reflecting off the water, allowing enough light that they could see their reflections. As Mishca came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her middle, she smiled down at their flickering images.
“Ne tak krasiv, kak vy—Not as beautiful as you.”
She squeezed his hand, pulling free of his hold. “Are you getting in with me?”
“I’ll watch you.”
Lauren turned back to watch him drop down onto the sand, her eyes narrowing on him. “Don’t tell me the great Bratva Captain is afraid to get in the water.”
He smiled as she began pulling her cover-up off, left only in the skimpy white bikini she had bought for their honeymoon.
“I like the view better.”
She carefully stepped into the water, putting the coldness of it out of her mind as she sunk in to waist level. Closing her eyes, she dived beneath the surface. Despite the craziness of their lives, being here with Mishca, away from all the drama and violence that surrounded them in New York, she felt at peace.
“Please?” She called back with a flirtatious smile, wadding deeper into the water.
She didn’t have to look back to know he would be coming in after her, so when she heard the splashing water, she smiled.
“Tell me,” he said when he was at her back, “what do you see when you look out at the water?”
“Endless possibilites.”
His lips were ghosting over the shell of her ear, and she could feel the smile pulling at them, making goosebumps break out all over her arms. “That’s how I see us.”
“What do you wear to something like this?” Lauren called from the bathroom, light spilling out behind the door.
“Anything you want,” Mishca said back, busy on his phone, making sure that his other plans for the evening were still in play.
He had already been dressed for some time, foregoing his suit for jeans and a shirt, scuffed boots laced on his feet.
“How’s this?”
It wasn’t that Mishca hadn’t grown accustomed to Lauren’s beauty, quite the opposite, but there was something about the way she looked at that moment that made his breath catch.
Amused by his reaction, she walked towards him, still barefoot, drawing his gaze from her face down to her legs that were displayed quite nicely in the dress. He would have to remember to pay them more attention in the future. He stood when she reached him. She turned her back, lifting the heavy fall of her hair.
“Could you button me?” She asked innocently, more than aware of the affect she was having on him.
He ran a finger down her spine, beneath the delicate chain that hung down her bag, the only thing really holding the dress together. Right at the top, there was the smallest of buttons that he knew she could easily reach. “Any more surprises I should know about?”
She met his gaze through the mirror, a corner of her mouth turning up. She didn’t answer, she didn’t have to. Her expression told him everything he needed to know.
“Tonight should be fun.”
Chuckling, he opened the door, leading her outside. “Don’t tempt me.”
As she walked by, she brushed her hand over the span of his abdomen, smiling up at him sweetly. “Or?”
It was going to be a long night.
Lauren didn’t have to ask how often Mishca had been to Brazil, not with the way he expertly navigated the streets towards the villa on the outskirts of the city.
At the moment, she didn’t have any cares in the world besides what her hair would look like once they got to the party. With the top down, her light brown strands blew in the wind, whipping past her face as Mishca drove well above the speed limit.
By the time they reached the villa, she didn’t want the drive to end.
“Oh wow,” Lauren said when Mishca exited the car, tossing his keys to the teenager in the maroon vest, coming around to her side. “This is incredible.”
Halogen lights were imbedded in the ground along the walk way up to the front doors that were standing open, manned by two security guards, one holding a clipboard. Mishca didn’t have to give his name—his notoriety clearly spoke for itself—the guards stepping to the side to allow them entry.
The floors were made of an expensive sandstone tile, the home itself decorated in warm shades of reds, tans, and oranges. The room they entered was nearly clear of any furniture, the guests already in attendance mingling together.
A waitress carrying a silver platter
with flutes of champagne, and glasses of a fruity smelling drink paused in front of them.
“Can I interest you in a drink?”
Mishca declined, but grabbed one for Lauren. At her questioning look, he said, “Sangria. No one is better at making it than Lucia.”
While she had never had one herself, she knew what went into them. Taking her first sip, she coughed and swallowed, surprised by how strong it was, but did enjoy it.
There was a vast difference between the Russians she had met back at the manor, and the ‘businessmen’ she was seeing today. They were not nearly as stiff, dressed casually as opposed to the suits she was used to seeing them in. Luka looked like he would more in this group than with the Bratva.
They were at ease as they all talked casually, Mishca introducing her to a few of them, but the woman that stole the show was the one that was holding the auction.
Lucia Cortez wasn’t classically beautiful, but had a wide smile that either meant happiness or impending doom, and while she seemed perfectly pleasant when Lauren first saw her, Lucia’s mood changed at the drop of a hat, especially when she saw people she didn’t want there.
When Mishca and Lauren walked outside, where she was yelling in rapid Portuguese to one of the waiters, she abruptly halted her argument, smiling warmly at Mishca.
She came over, the gauzy material of her dress whipping back behind her, as she grasped Mishca by the shoulders, kissing both of his cheeks. Even Lauren got the same treatment, as though they had been friends for ages, instead of virtual strangers.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” Lucia said in heavily accented English. A pleasant smile spreading her plum-painted lips. “And you must be Lauren,” she said, “as beautiful as Mishca described.”
Blushing, Lauren thanked her, glancing over at Mishca who shrugged.
“Mishca Volkov,” a portly man called out, opening his arms as he crossed the room towards them.
Accepting his embrace with a hard slap to the back, Mishca stood back with a smile, gesturing for Lauren to come to his side.
Unlike Lucia, the woman standing at the man’s side didn’t smile at her, her eyes narrowing as thought she thought Lauren might have been a threat. Barely holding back an eye roll, Lauren accepted the man’s extended hand.
“Marco, my wife Lauren.”
“Ah, she is a treasure.”
Lauren smiled kindly, readying to thank him, but Lucia’s condescending voice cut in before she could.
“Oh, stop it, Marco. She’s not like one of your putas. She won’t fall for your charms.”
He didn’t look angered by her remark, only amused. That was something Lauren noticed about the older men in Mishca’s line of work. Either they didn’t get angry, or those smiles they gave were warning enough.
“My wife, as gracious as ever.”
A waiter rang a bell, capturing the attention of everyone in the room. “If you would proceed to the media room, the auction is about to begin.”
Instead of display cases, the jewelry was presented on young women, everything from diamond broaches, to emerald solitaire earrings, and brilliant ruby necklaces, the jewels nearly the size of a baby’s fist.
The guests were casually going about, observing, commenting, and already selecting their favorites before the bidding even started.
“Half of it she hasn’t worn, most were just gifts when Marco was having an affair,” Mishca explained when they were going to their seats.
Lauren coughed, taking a sip of her drink. There were at least thirty models in the room. “If you messed up, what would you give me?”
“The world, and if not that, I would let you slap me. That seems to be your favored response.”
She rolled her eyes, but Lauren did smile. “That was one time.”
Lucia walked in from a side entrance, all conversations dying away as she took the podium. As she began the auction, it didn’t take long before she started selling. She had an interesting way of holding the event, meaning she didn’t care how often Marco’s new girlfriend raised her hand to bid, Lucia ignored her, and in the same token, whenever Mishca bid on Lauren’s behalf, it didn’t matter whether another person was offering a larger amount, she always sold to him.
In the end, Lauren came out with a necklace crafted in the shape of flowers and large teardrop earrings that were made of black diamonds. Once the auction was over, Lauren talked with Lucia, Mishca excusing himself to have a private conversation with Marco.
“I never thought I would see the day,” Marco said as they stepped outside, lighting one of the Cuban cigars he was known to carry around. “With all those rules you Russians are known for, I doubted you could even take a woman. Come você vive—How do you live?”
Mishca smiled graciously, sitting in one of the few chairs that faced the house so he could still have a clear view of Lauren. “Times are changing, Marco.”
Striking a match, Marco took his time lighting the end of the cigar, staring over at Mishca above it. “A change of power, si?”
There was a time when Marco had anticipated doing business with them in New York, an alliance that could have been profitable to both sides, but Mikhail had rejected that offer in favor of one with another crime syndicate. While he had never revealed his motives, Mishca had thought it was because Marco was just as powerful as Mikhail, and he didn’t want to risk losing his status.
To answer his question, Mishca shrugged. Nothing was set in stone, and he didn’t want to commit to an answer that hadn’t come to pass yet.
“About our deal,” he went on, blowing out a puff of smoke. “I shouldn’t expect any interference?”
Mishca didn’t doubt that Marco was referring to Lauren since she was here with him. “No, we’ll be meeting alone. Expect my call when it’s time.”
“Claro—Of course.”
“I—”
“Mishca?”
They all spun around at Lauren’s interruption, and Mishca immediately went on alert at the look on her face. She looked surprised when everyone stood.
“There’s a slight problem inside,” she went on as a crystal glass smashed against the door beside her, making her jump back.
Mishca could almost hear the raised voices inside as he climbed to his feet, pulling Lauren to his side as Marco’s men rushed inside. Mishca scanned over her quickly enough, making sure she hadn’t been hurt though he had no idea what was going on.
“What happened?”
“Lucia and Marco’s girlfriend are having it out.”
Marco laughed joyfully, extinguishing his cigar in an ashtray at the table. “Perhaps I should be the one to deal with this. It was good to see you old friend. We will see each other soon, I trust.” He picked up Lauren’s hand with both of his, kissing the back of it for no longer than a second. “And do bring your wife back the next time you’re here. Good day, Lauren.”
Lauren turned to him. “Are we leaving?”
He glanced down at his watch, recalling the time he needed to be at the restaurant. “Yea, let’s go.”
Saying goodbye to Lucia proved to take some time, only because she was in the middle of threatening to kill Marco’s newest playmate. While Lauren found it amusing, she didn’t know her like Mishca did, and he knew she was more than happy—and eager—to do it, especially with Marco willing to clean up after her.
Back at the villa, Lauren pulled off her heels before climbing out of the car, running a hand through her hair. Instead of going inside, she came over to his side, and he knew immediately that if he didn’t let her down gently, he wouldn’t be meeting up with Marco any time in the near future.
“Lauren.” Her name was a warning, and he could tell from the growing smile on her face that she knew that was what it was, but ignoring it, she continued to come for him.
When she reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck, he couldn’t deny her, even if it made him late. As he lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he couldn’t help sliding his hand a
round her waist, squeezing the curve of her ass.
He wanted to lose himself with her as he carried her in, almost did with the way she clung to him, but there were greater things at stake than his need for her.
“I promised him a meeting,” Mishca said by way of apology, nearly caving when she nipped at the cord of his throat.
“Ten minutes?” She whispered in his ear, a plea if he had ever heard one—one he had made plenty of times himself.
But he had a short window of opportunity, and he couldn’t miss that.
“I promise I’ll take care of you when I get back.”
Sighing, she begrudgingly loosened her hold on him, allowing him up. He had to smile at the adorable look of frustration on her face. Righting his clothing, he grabbed his phone, pocketing the device as he leaned over to place a kiss on Lauren’s forehead.
“How long will you be gone?”
Glancing down at his watch, he said, “No more than two hours.”
He was readying to walk out the door, but Lauren called out to him, “Are you taking Vlad with you? You shouldn’t go alone.”
“I will, don’t worry about me.”
With a placating smile, she said, “I’ll always worry about you.”
Outside of the room, as he walked towards his car, Mishca sent a quick message to Vlad, letting him know where he was going, and who with, but he made a point to tell him not to go near Lauren’s room for any reason. He didn’t want to have to explain to her why he’d specifically ignored her request.
Instead of driving, he took a cab to a restaurant in the heart of Rio, one that was fairly crowded despite the hour. He paid his fare, waving the hostess off as she prepared to offer him a table. He didn’t plan on staying long.
She, the woman he had come for, was sitting alone at an outdoor table, blueprints of a mansion resting in front of her. Too consumed by her task to notice, Mishca slipped to her side, refilling her glass of champagne with the bottle that the waiter had left in a bucket of melting ice.
The Final Hour Page 22
