Nickolas’s voice breaks into my rambling thoughts. I can’t think about Dylan right now. I need to focus on the man at the other end.
“Patience, my love. Your stupid boyfriend won’t let you go. It’s all we’re waiting on,” he informs lowly. “Don’t think I haven’t seen the advertisements he placed either.”
Shit motherfucker fuck! It dawned on me just then how I told Nickolas about the alternate way Eddie and I communicated. Oops. I didn’t mean to, but after Eddie left, Nickolas and I went out and had one too many shots of vodka. We are Russian, after all. It’s like water to us.
“I hadn’t noticed them.”
“Mhmm.” He yells at one of his men about cleaning guns then goes quiet.
A moment of silence passes between us and I hold my anger at bay. Nickolas could easily jump on his private jet, pick me up, and drop the criminal case by the end of the day.
“You know you’re vital to this plan, but more importantly to me. I won’t leave you there to die,” he concludes.
“Нет, but it seems you’ll string it out as long as possible.” I notice snow swirling outside the window thanks to the snow blower.
“I’ll come get you right now if you agree to marry me tonight,” he offers.
I guarantee there’s a haughty grin on his smug face. Leave it to Nickolas to give me one way out of this hellhole.
“My fiancé recently died, I can’t marry while I’m in mourning,” I counter smugly.
He chuckles into the phone. “You have a smart tongue, Mishka. One I look forward to enjoying the rest of my life.”
I move away from the window. Undoubtedly, Nickolas will revel in me before the year is out. Until then, I’m rolling in the sheets with Dylan. He’s an understanding guy for one who’s supposedly in love with me.
“Whatever you say.”
“I’ll be there soon. Don’t worry about it. Oh, and I will bring you a stunning ring too,” he promises then disconnects the call.
As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t mind my fate with Nickolas. It’s better than the future I would’ve endured at Alexei’s hands and much better than living out my days in an American prison.
“Пока, imminent husband.” I toss the phone to the table. My sole desire is to cuddle by the fire and wait for Dylan to get here. I could use a good dose of losing my brains to a man who is expertly trained in the art of seduction.
Chapter Eleven
It’s strange how I depend on people when I shouldn’t. Typically, I’m an independent and ruthless woman. That’s when the opposite gender doesn’t catch my attention. My desire to be needed is too strong. Maybe my parents screwed up while raising me, but I’m stuck with this gut-wrenching fate.
At the moment, I’m sitting across from a very irresistible Dylan Kain and I’m fucked. Well, I will be fucked quite soon if the desire in his eyes is any indication. I cross my legs and listen to him ramble on about himself. I don’t mind. I find his stories rather entertaining, but I keep it to myself. I can’t afford to get close since Dylan is a free pass, not an option. I’m all but married to Nickolas and somehow in love with Eddie. I have no room for another man to muddle my affections.
Nevertheless, I listen as he tells me about his family. It seems he’s an only child. His parents died when he was ten and he went between foster homes. Snooze. There’s nothing exciting about him. I distractedly lick my lips. Except what’s beneath his boxers. I sip the red wine in my glass, the buzz keeping me sane. Oh, and imagining Dylan naked.
He begins a story about a dog named Digit, and I’m lost to my thoughts. If I wasn’t such a hornball, I may care about him. He’s fascinating in a humdrum way. Nothing too flashy in his past and no secret mobsters he’s connected to behind the curtain.
Despite my idle trust, I’m wary of his schpeel. It’s impeccably put together. His involvement in the Verde chapter of the Russian mob is clueless on me even now. He could be lying. Staring at the way his lips dance across his words, I sigh. Then again, maybe he’s innocent in all of this. The opposite is what I attract, and who I’ll end up with.
I don’t think I can live with someone like Dylan for an array of reasons. The first and most important is that I’m a Russian spy’s daughter who kills without batting an eyelash. And I’m an informant for the U.S. government. Plus, I’m in love with Nickolas and Eddie.
No, I won’t grow old with Dylan or have his babies. Unless my life suddenly simplifies itself. As if that will happen in this century.
“What about you? Where did you grow up?” he asks, jerking me back to the present conversation. “I barely know anything about you.” His cool gaze warms me more than the alcohol humming through my veins.
I shake my head. “Not much to tell.” He tastes his wine and keeps my eyes locked in place. I squirm under his confused gaze. For the most part, men are one-hundred percent fine with skipping background chatter so we can get down to a twist in the sheets. I meet his eyes, resembling a stormy sky today.
“I’m not interesting. Just your normal, everyday girl.” I hold in a snort. As if any part of my sentence is true.
Dylan languidly glides over the couch until our thighs touch. I keep my gaze fastened with his but instantly regret my decision. He holds me prisoner without trying. His tepid breath collides with my alarmingly rapid panting.
“I think you’re very interesting. Intriguing, really,” he informs, pressing his lips to my neck.
He kisses a line down my low-cut shirt. “Tell me one measly thing,” he pleads, easily unlatching my bra strap. How did that even happen?
“One little thing about you, and I’ll take off my shirt.” He grabs my wine glass and places it next to his on the coffee table.
“Is that supposed to be incentive?” I shoot back with a hint of sarcasm. If I wanted his freaking shirt discarded, I’ll rip it off.
He pulls me against his chest so fast my head spins. The only way he’d be any closer was if he was inside me. The pinewood scent of his plaid shirt overwhelms my senses. Immediately, I crave a spitting fire to watch his naked body come alive by.
“Just one thing.” He guides his hand up my shirt and drags the bra away from my breasts. My skin pebbles at his coarse fingers.
I want to tell him something now. If he keeps going, I’ll unload my soul and end up killing him in the process. Sliding my shirt up, he finds my breasts and envelopes them with his hands, tormenting my thoughts.
I scramble to think of a truth about myself worthy to share. I’m drawing blanks at every turn. He pinches my buds and I race to come up with something. “I hate romance movies.”
Dylan stops his lips from concealing my bud in his mouth. He hovers over my exposed breast. My nipple aches for his caress when his breath cascades over it. His dark hair shifts to the side when he lolls his head toward me.
“That’s too bad.” He slides down from his seat beside me and positions himself between my legs. “Tell me why,” he prods, unfastening my jeans.
I shiver as his knuckles graze my stomach. “They’re unrealistic. Nothing in life happens so perfect like in a movie. A girl doesn’t fall for a handsome stranger after hours of knowing him,” I respond, not taking my eyes off him.
He crudely pulls my jeans over my hips then drops them on the floor. “I don’t know about that. I mean, we hardly know each other.” His finger slips beneath my blue thong, and I try to maintain my composure. Moisture floods to between my legs. “Plus, you might be watching the wrong type of romance movies,” he finishes as he discards my panties to the floor. He stares down at my curves, carefully surveying them with his metallic depths.
I nearly lose myself when he peers into my eyes. That damn expression of his has a way of tearing down every wall I erect. Keeping my gaze, Dylan prods his finger between my folds, and I see the pure satisfaction fill his face.
“I guess you could be right.” The moment I finish my retort, he leans down and kisses my inner thigh. Goosebumps straggle over my body. He presses a k
iss to my other thigh, and I hold my breath. His mouth lingers at my epicenter, his breath tangling with the aroma of my core. He doesn’t move. Simply stares as I grow increasingly impatient. The suspense is killing me. Do it already.
Unhurried, Dylan removes his finger. My body jolts at his cool, wet replacement against my hot center. He teases my folds, actively tasting me for sweetness. I can’t handle this. I can’t handle the tender way he divulges in me.
He moves closer, deeper and plunges his tongue into me so unexpectedly that my hips move against his mouth. The man has a tongue like a masterful dagger. One that knows precisely how to make me throb for his next move.
I moan softly and lace my hands through his thick locks. My eyes roll back the more he laves. I can’t come this fast!
I yank his hair when he pulls me further down the couch and into his mouth. It’s no use. Dylan’s proficient skills have me on the brink. The bristly hairs from his beard torment my inner sanctuary, sending me into disarray.
As he suckles on my bud, I cry out. “Ohhhhh!” Black flashes across my eyes as I ride out the orgasm he produced with scarcely an effort.
I expect the sensation to stop shortly after it happens, but when he slides his fingers between my folds, rapidly, my body convulses once more. My vision is completely void from the black shield caused by Dylan’s weapons of orgasmic destruction. My knees tremble as I search for daylight.
I’m given no time to recover, no time to escape before his thick member plunges inside me. I gasp as he fills me to the brim. His length and girth impale me so swiftly I come again over him. My high-pitched moan echoes in the room, and Dylan consumes the rest of it with his mouth. His tongue clashes with mine, and I taste myself. Damn, I taste good on him.
His tempo is strained, as if trying to stall from emptying already. My hips rock with his, but I can’t concentrate. My body has a mind all its own right now. I should be pleasing him like he did to me, but all I can muster is pulling his head closer. I tug at his hair and he moans. His gruff voice turns me on even more, so I yank harder. This action is met with him growling. I shiver at the erotic sound.
Pressing my luck, I detach my fingers and drag them along his back. He arches at the pain, but it only makes him plunge deeper and faster. He likes the pain and I sure fuck like the agony he’s dishing out. “Fuck me hard,” I demand.
Dylan lunges into me and catches my hair in his hands. He twists the long lengths, crudely pulling as he does. I shriek in delight as my head is slowly torn from his lips. He has me deliciously caught with my neck completely exposed, my eyes staring at the ceiling as he thrusts harder. I manage a chuckle at his frisky bite on my neck. He kisses it then attacks it with his teeth, no doubt leaving marks as he goes. If I die in this instant, I’ll have no regrets.
“You shouldn’t like this so much,” he comments, nibbling on my collarbone. His lips suck at the side of my neck, and I desperately want to see those devilish eyes. As if hearing my thoughts, he untangles his hand from my locks and crushes our lips together.
“I won’t if you won’t,” I reply, catching his bottom lip in my teeth.
He groans as I suck on his lip then drop it. I meet his gaze and he pauses his thrusts. He searches my face, memorizing it in its entirety. Thriving beneath his intimate blue eyes, my heart races as he traces my neck, breasts, then navel.
“If we keep this up, I may never recover,” he admits, catching the tip of my ear in his teeth.
I sigh at the fresh wave of lust filling my gut. “Maybe, that’s what I want.” I trace my hands down his back until I cup his muscular ass. His breath snags as I survey his backside with my hands. I smirk at the perfect shape and slap him as hard as I can. He reacts by thrusting. I slap him again and he lets out a guttural grunt.
I kiss down his chest until I reach his nipple. Licking the copper pebble, I squeal when his body contracts. Gently, I graze my teeth along his nipple, wait for his body to tighten then trace my tongue around it before repeating. His rhythm picks up, his body straining into mine.
Under my hands, his muscles ripple and tighten whenever my lips meet his skin. He swats my ass, startling me out of the trance his upper body holds me in. I meet his eyes and recognize their sinful motive. He slaps my ass again, and I mutter a stifled scream. Everything he does turns me on more.
He captures my lips, and I devour him. His breathing, so sweet, catches and his final convulsion soars into my body. Gently, he drops my lips. His grizzled beard skids over my shoulder, sending sizzling chills down my spine. Attempting to recover my breath is useless.
“See what happens when you open up to me?” he croons to my neck then plants a kiss on a smarting bite mark. “And that was only one thing.” He meets my eyes. “Want to tell me another little something about yourself?”
My stomach flips at his low tone. If this is the result of me telling him one, stupid artifact, what will he do if I tell him more?
A smile creeps onto my face. “That depends.” I kiss his neck. “How much time do you have?”
A positively wicked grin overwhelms Dylan’s face. “As much as you need.”
***
Two days have passed since I heard from Nickolas. He’ll show up out of the blue and will be disappointed with the way I’ve spent my time in another man’s embrace. Screw it. I might as well have fun while I can. Once I’m married to Nickolas, it’ll be guns and drugs non-stop until I die. He’ll throw in lots of money and trips, but what do I care for those? It’s not what I want. I didn’t want any of this, but I never had a choice. My mother passed down her legacy to her only child. The skhodka makes sure I always remember my role.
The uneaten sandwich on my desk catches my eye. Dylan dropped it off an hour ago, but I don’t want to eat it. It’s his small way of reminding me how much I shouldn’t like him. He’s too kind, too thoughtful, too fucking good for me. He reminds me of Eddie in an odd way.
I tilt my head and imagine him in front of me. His tall stature of six foot five is impressive for a guy. It’s curious that every one of my steady boyfriends were around the same height as me. It’s a freaking miracle, more like. Finding clothes is nothing compared to finding a single, attractive guy taller than me. It’s why I settle for whoever is closest to fitting the bill. Alexei was an inch taller than me, Eddie six inches, and Nickolas roughly four inches.
I scrunch my face at the thought of the four men. Oh, wait, three. Alexei is dead. They bear pros and cons. What man doesn’t? Being strapped to someone for the rest of my life sends me into panic mode. I can never be someone’s property. I’m my own person.
My stomach rumbles, but I refuse to touch the turkey and Swiss. “Who would I choose if they all treated me like a queen?”
I glance to the copy of Emma sitting on the desk awaiting its return to the shelves. “Too bad none are Mr. Knightley.” I’ve done way too much reading over the last months.
I turn my attention to Moby Dick sitting on the other side of the desk. “Yep, that’s more like it.” I chuckle at my pun. It’s not a subject I ever dared think over. I can’t bring Alexei back from the dead. But would I want to? I mull this for a moment. Nah, Alexei can stay in his shallow grave, mortuary or wherever the fuck he is. If it came down to loaded guns to their heads who would I choose to live? Hmm, that’s a tough one. Can I pull the trigger? I giggle then frown.
“Okay, be serious, Mishka.” I squint between the two books. The longer I stay in Colorado, the more I lose my mind. I twirl a pen between my fingers. It depends what I base it on. If it’s off performance in bed, then hands down Dylan. If the scale is on soulmate crap, then Eddie. If the scale is off someone you’ve known forever, somehow loathe and love at the same time then Nickolas. “Well, that solved absolutely nothing.”
My desk drawer starts buzzing, and I check the clock. Why is he calling? It’s not our check-in day. I pull the drawer open and see a blocked caller flash on the phone. Should I answer it? Not answer it? I roll my eyes. Hell, why not?
“Да?” I answer in Russian then regret my action when no reply comes across the line. Static dances along the connection. I don’t dare say another word. Breathing on the other end makes me bite my tongue from commenting on their asthmatic tendencies.
“Mishka?” A woman’s voice asks in the same language.
I nearly drop the phone in my lap. Her voice sends my stomach into a nosedive. “Mother?” I hold my breath and tell myself it isn’t true. Someone’s playing a trick on me.
“Yes, it’s me.”
I drop the phone this time. It clatters to the floor, and I sit motionless. As far as I know, Alena Vald is dead. Killed by a double agent, dead. I recall her funeral then frown when I remember it was a closed casket affair.
The voice continues to speak, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. Pick up the damn phone. I get that much from the tone. I lean down and grab the clamshell. “How are you alive?”
“I’m sorry I never told you. I couldn’t. It was for your protection,” Alena explains.
I sense the tears in her throat, but they don’t faze me. My resentment for her supersedes hearing her voice from beyond the grave.
“You killed Pops. Like he drank himself to death after you died.” I grip the phone in anger. “Or should I say ‘faked your death’?”
The nerve of this woman is beyond me. I could never be like her and lie to everyone. I shake my head. I’m doing exactly that. I have for my entire life. Like mother like daughter.
I clear my throat. “He married that bitch, Linda or whatever her real name is, then turned over all parental responsibility to her. She turned me into a monster. Thanks, Alena.”
“Mishka, I am your mother. Don’t speak to me as though I’m not,” she spits out.
I can’t stand speaking to this woman who claims to be my mother.
“No, you’re not my mother. I don’t have a mother. The mother I knew would never abandon her family. My mother died because she stuck her nose where it didn’t belong. I don’t know who you are or how you got this number, but you better leave me the hell alone!” I pull the phone away from my ear, ready to disconnect the line.
Assassin by Day Page 13
