by Alison Aimes
He watched her intently, his hands fisting at his sides. “I always do my research. You can’t be happy about it in the case of Don and Paul and then hold it against me now.”
“Watch me.” She skittered back farther. “Now, stop stalling. How long have you known?”
He blew out a breath. “I underestimated you during that first meeting. I wasn’t about to make that mistake again. I had my people dig deep. They’re very good at what they do. Within a week, I had all the expunged records from Paris.”
“Will you leak it to the board? The press?”
“What do you think?” His voice was an angry growl.
She couldn’t look at him. She was the one who should have been angry. He’d slept with her—several times—even knowing about her past. She should never have trusted him.
She stumbled to her knees.
He grabbed her wrist, locking her in place. “The first time I realized just how strong you really were was when I read that report.”
Her gaze leapt to his. The awe in his stare stole her breath—and sent confusion roiling through her.
She’d expected censure. Disdain. Judgment. Pity.
“You were just a young girl. Without anyone. Under the thumb of a monster. But you survived.” His thumb glided over her pulse point. “You found a way when most others would have given in. You fought against the life he tried to force you into.”
“Not too well.” Her voice was a broken rasp of shame. She crumpled back onto her heels. “I took the drugs. I did what he said.”
“He was hurting you. You had no choice.”
Nothing she hadn’t told herself a thousand times before.
But somehow, hearing it from this particular man affected her in a way her own words hadn’t.
And gave her the courage to tell the rest.
“When my sister died, he refused to let me go home for her funeral.” She forced the ugly memories past the tightness in her throat. Even after all these years, that failure still hurt like hell. “Not…not being able to be there for her broke something inside me.”
His hold on her wrist shifted, his fingers sliding downward until their palms were touching. His fingers interlocked with hers. “I understand. Believe me.”
She looked down at their joined hands, her heart slamming against her ribs.
Lines blurred. And all she could do was scurry faster toward her destruction.
“The day of her funeral, I was angry, talking back more than I had in a long time. We got in a big fight.” Something cool and wet rolled down her cheek. Alexi whisked it away with the pad of his thumb before she could. “When he finished hitting me, he told me to take my worthless ass upstairs and get ready to go to some party. I just…snapped. While his back was turned, I grabbed his camera with the giant lens and swung it like a baseball bat.” Saying it aloud was liberating. She’d never shared the full story with a soul. Not even Russell.
“I was so full of rage, I just kept hitting. Even after he crumpled to the ground. I just kept on—until some neighbor who’d heard the yelling pulled me off.” She paused, and then confessed. “I would have killed him if they hadn’t.”
Alexi’s thumb slid over her cheek once more. “Makes me proud. A lot of others would have given up, but not you. You’re a fighter. It’s sexy as hell.”
Scars she’d been carrying around for a long while suddenly felt a lot less ugly.
She inched closer, her knees pressing into his. “Thank you for saying that. It means…a lot.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Some truths are kinder than others.”
Their gazes tangled once more. “What happened after that?”
“Francoise lived, and I was charged with attempted manslaughter. I thought it was over for sure.” The memory of that icy certainty gripped her even now. “I was sure I’d never see the light of day again, much less make it back home to visit my sister’s grave.”
“And then”—her rival cleared his throat, and she could tell the next words out of his mouth weren’t easy—“Russell saved you by throwing his money and influence behind your case.”
She squeezed his hand. “And Francoise went to prison instead.” Her voice quivered as it always did when she thought of what happened next. He’d been a predator and an abuser, but a part of her would always feel guilty. “He was there less than three weeks before he killed himself.”
Alexi yanked her back into his lap—just like she’d been hoping he would. “The man was a coward till the end.” He wrapped his arms around her and settled her tightly against him, her side pressed to his chest. Solid. Warm. Alive. “The only thing sad about his death is that I can’t kill him myself.”
“You know what, Alexi?” She offered up a quivery smile, swinging one leg over and straddling him. “You’re a lot sweeter than anyone would ever expect.”
“Sweet,” he barked. “I just told you I wish I could kill that scumbag.”
“Sounds sweet to me.” She latched her fingers behind his neck and liked the way his eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to the dark tips thrusting through her white T-shirt before returning to her face. “Since my sister died, I’ve been alone. And a little lost.” Shifting forward, she pressed her mouth to the corner of his and offered up another confession. “Right now, I don’t feel that way at all.”
Nostrils flaring, his hands slid up her back to tangle in her hair. “Because you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.” His mouth closed over hers. Not the sweet kiss hers had been, but intense, demanding. Sinful.
Her head was spinning when they came up for air.
His hands cradled her jaw, his stare boring straight into her, as if he could see to the heart of her. “I won’t pretend I went digging for your secrets out of curiosity alone, but I can promise you I won’t use them against you. I’m not out to hurt you, Lily. I’m just…I’m just trying to help someone else, too. I hope you know that.”
Her palms covered his, her crazy stupid heart, numb for so long, roaring to life. Fueled by hope—and sheer terror.
Every time before she’d hoped, every time before when she’d counted on someone, it had cost her. With Francoise, she’d lost her dignity. Her pride. Her sense of safety. With Russell, she’d lost her autonomy, her ability to make decisions for herself, her strength.
Thanks to those poor choices, she was only just scratching and clawing her way back to some semblance of the woman she aspired to be.
And neither of those two men had affected her like Alexi Kazankov.
Still, she couldn’t stop from moving her mouth over his again. Her fingers sifting through his hair as need thrummed through her blood and she ground against the thick bulge pressing into the V of her thighs.
She’d thought when they first met that going to bed with Alexi would make her weak and dirty. Instead, she felt stronger than ever.
“I’m giving you permission to stay the weekend.” She whispered the invitation between deep, soft kisses, her back bowing as his callused hands slid beneath her T-shirt to cup her sensitive breasts.
His slow smile against her skin was sexy as hell. The way his thumb traced her nipple even more so. “Then I’ll save asking for forgiveness for something else.”
She should have asked what. She should have demanded to know what else he’d need pardoning from.
Instead, she let him lower her to the carpet and mold his mouth to hers, his hard body sliding up hers until they were skin to skin and he covered her completely. Because it was too late now. The worst had already happened.
She was falling for Alexi Kazankov.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“You’re late.” Eaton slurped a noodle into his mouth, his appetite undeterred by the antiseptic smell outside Lena’s hospital room. “She’s already asleep for the night.”
“Damn.” Alexi gripped the new deck of cards and Russian chocolates—Lena’s favorites—tighter. “I was catching up on work.” Taking the weekend off had been worth it, but he’d d
efinitely paid the price. “How did she seem today?”
“The usual.” Morales, who’d been standing next to Eaton, pushed off the wall. “Tired. In pain. She wondered where you were and what was happening with Winslow Industries. Tim the orderly was nice enough to take your place when we played cards. You seem well rested, though. Have a nice weekend?”
A swell of fury hit. And not because Morales was purposely trying to irritate him. Lena was only in her sixties. Too young to fucking die.
This weekend had cooled the hottest of his rage, but now he was suddenly on edge again. Fucking pissed at the world and not sure how to bend it to his will. “Any news from her doctor?”
“Nothing positive.”
“What about leads on Paul and Don Pierson?”
“Even less.”
Alexi’s eyes sunk shut. He didn’t do well with helpless. Or with failure. Yet that’s exactly what he felt like he was offering up these days.
“You’re screwed, aren’t you?” Morales’s question dropped without warning.
Alexi’s eyelids popped open. “What the hell does that mean, mudak?”
“I’ll admit to being an asshole as long as you admit to having a major problem,” challenged Morales. “It’s a shit storm right now with half the board piling on the sympathy train for Lily Bennett, the police questioning us about the exact nature of your relationship with your rival, and business as usual nowhere to be found—and yet you were sporting a shit-eating grin as you came down the hall. Over the woman who’s causing you all the problems in the first place. Where the hell do you see this going?”
Alexi was getting very sick of that question. “I’ll figure it out.”
“I get the feeling Lena knows something’s up.”
“I hope you told her things were proceeding as planned.”
Morales stepped into his face. “I thought we always agreed we were assholes, but never liars.”
“You wouldn’t be lying.” Alexi gripped the stack of cards tighter. “I recently added four board members to our side. Closed several outside lucrative deals. Tripled our bonuses this year.” He flicked a piece of lint from his suit. “It may not be business as usual, but I’m still on fire.”
A phone chirped.
Happy for the distraction, Alexi pulled his from his pocket. Eaton and Morales did the same.
Not his.
Alexi flipped his back over—and caught Morales’s raised eyebrow. “Hoping for anyone in particular?”
Alexi ignored the smug bastard. Then his own phone did chirp. You busy?
Morales and Eaton absorbed every detail.
He didn’t give a damn.
30 min, he typed, I’ll come to you.
“What if Lena wakes up?” Eaton’s expression was deliberately blank.
“I’ll come back.”
No one said a word, but the hallway thickened with censure.
Fuck them. Things had gotten complicated. But he’d figure it out.
Once he did himself.
Fucking Russell Winslow. The man had destroyed one woman Alexi cared for and saved another.
The craziest part? If not for Russell’s failure with Anastasia, the pathetic excuse for a father and a man would never have been looking to atone, never seen Lily under Francoise’s thumb and decided to make amends by reaching out and saving her.
If that hadn’t happened, the Lily Bennett he knew—the one with all that fire and sweet vulnerability—would have never existed, her light buried under the bruises and abuse of an asshole lucky to already be dead, or he’d be suffering untold agony.
The tangled web of it all choked Alexi.
He rubbed at his chest again. Still in one piece. So why the hell did it feel split in two? His past, his present, his future at war. His loyalties increasingly divided.
The only time he felt at peace when he was inside his rival, everything else forgotten.
Which made him wonder what the hell he was doing still standing in this fluorescent hallway.
“A pleasure as always.” He offered a one-finger salute to his friends and turned around.
“Wait.” Eaton laid a hand on his forearm. “I’ve got news.”
The hair at the back of Alexi’s neck prickled. “Tell me.”
“Someone else knows about Lily Bennett’s past and they’re trying to sell it to the highest media bidder.” Eaton’s words left him in a rush. “They’re pitching it as stuff no one knows. Drugs, violence, love triangle. The kind of tale everyone would want to read—and could destroy a promising CEO career.”
“Shit.” Everything inside Alexi stilled.
“It will turn the tide in your favor once and for all—and it doesn’t even have to come from you.”
“Kill it.” He didn’t hesitate. “That’s not the way I intend to win.”
“Kill it?” His CFO looked like he was about to upchuck. “Has he”—his gaze shifted to Morales—“has he actually grown a conscience?”
“I’d look lower than the cerebral cortex for your explanation.”
“Watch it,” Alexi warned.
“Oh, I’m watching,” said Morales. “I just never asked for a front-row seat to your destruction.”
“You’re making too much of this.”
“Says the man who starts salivating like some Pavlovian dog when his phone pings.”
An ominous silence fell. Alexi’s gaze locked with the two pain-in-the-asses who drove him crazy, but who’d been there through his darkest moments. His blood family might have been shit, but he’d found a better version in these men—and Lena. Up until now, nothing had torn them apart.
But Lily had no one.
“Rag on me all you want,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just get the article killed. And, Goddamn it, let’s find out who’s behind it. I want names. I’m sick of being one step behind whoever else is trying to take my rival down.”
“Is it just lust?” Eaton’s tone was a sad mix of hopeful and bewildered. “Maybe it’s just a case of insane lust. The woman is gorgeous.”
Alexi let himself hope. It would be fucking easier. Simple. Uncomplicated. Safe.
“No,” he said at last, never one to lie, especially to these two. “It’s not just lust.” It was the worst, most illogical act in the world, but he’d fallen hard.
His confession hit with the subtly of an atomic bomb.
“Son of a bitch.” Morales threw his hands in the air. “From the moment you saw her at that charity event years ago, you looked like someone slammed you in the solar plexus. You didn’t even notice it was Russell Winslow standing by her side until it was too late. I fucking knew you had a thing for her even then.”
Maybe, deep inside, Alexi had known it, too. Maybe that’s why the second a year was up and the minimum acceptable mourning period had passed, he’d crashed into her life snarling and snapping—until he’d gotten exactly what he wanted. Her, in his arms. Looking at him in that throat-gripping, terrifying, irresistible way. With trust and hope in her gorgeous, emerald eyes. As if he could matter to her. As if he could be enough.
Only he couldn’t be. Not if he wanted to be enough for Lena, too.
Morales was right. He really had screwed himself good.
“This is no time to rehash the past. What’s done is done.” Ever practical, Eaton berated Morales while stuffing another noodle into his mouth. “Let’s figure out options.”
“He screws over Lena,” offered Morales.
Alexi shot him a warning glare. “Not happening.”
“Then you screw over Lily Bennett. I vote for that one.”
“I vote for coming over there and kicking your ass.” Alexi lunged closer.
“You can try.” Morales closed the gap.
Eaton slid between them. “I vote you both stop acting like idiots.” He slammed a palm on each of their chests. “Obviously, no one is screwing Lena over, but maybe if you talk to her? Maybe she’d be okay with the company remaining in the Winslow fold if they agreed to pay her res
titution?”
“I doubt it,” snapped Morales. “She wasn’t for that when Russell offered up that option years ago. I can’t see her accepting it now. She hates the whole family and the way they profited from her misery and her family estate. She won’t settle for anything less than having it back in full.”
Alexi had to agree. All she had left in her life was the dream of getting her family company back.
Plus, it would be at least a couple years before Lily turned enough profit to be able to dole out payments. A couple years that Lena didn’t have.
The weight on his chest grew heavier. He really should have kept his hands off Lily Bennett from the start. Stayed away from that damn memorial service instead of swaggering in like a cocky a-hole who assumed he could take what he wanted and get away scot-free.
“Fine.” Eaton’s no-nonsense tone slapped Alexi back to the present. “What about your rival? Any chance she’ll give it up for an obscene amount of money? I know it will mean the loss of her position and the money that goes along with Russell’s estate, but you could replace it for her.”
“Except I can’t replace the legitimacy that goes with it. Or gloss over the fact that she’ll be casting aside the promise she made to Russell to see his legacy realized.”
“Does she want legitimacy or does she want you?” sniped Morales.
It was a good question.
A high-pitched beep erupted from the nurses’ station down the hall before Alexi could respond.
A white blur rushed by. Then another.
Together, the nurses shoved open a recognizable door and sprinted inside.
The orderly Tim stumbled out.
“What’s going on?” Dread slid through Alexi, the sickening familiarity of the scene leaving an acidic taste in the back of his throat.
“It’s Lena,” said the man. “Something’s wrong.”
Alexi bolted through the door.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The steady slam of Lily’s sneakers usually calmed her. The peaceful, dark silence of her favorite Central Park jogging path around the ice skating rink the ideal escape, even with the new security guard Robert she’d hired to run by her side.
