The Lion in Russia

by Roslyn Hardy Holcomb

  Leo took a seat on the bed. “Am I to assume that you have no intention of telling me what the hell that was all about?”

  Vries came back into the room having pulled on a silky pink robe. She stood near the bed still drinking the water. “What do you want to know?”

  He stared at her as though she’d suddenly sprouted horns. “What do I want to know?” He closed his eyes for a moment as though struggling to compose himself. “How about we start with why my girlfriend of just a few days was suddenly playing bodyguard tonight, complete with a gun she somehow made from a purse,” he roared gesturing toward the minaudière she’d placed on the dresser when they entered the room.

  “I wasn’t playing bodyguard. I am a bodyguard. Amongst other things,” she said with a sigh, and sat down in the chair next to the bed.

  “Yes, that’s obvious. My question is who are you, and why are you guarding me? I thought you were a model? Just what the hell is going on?”

  Vries lay her head back on the plush white chenille chair. The stark black worsted wool of his suit jacket contrasted sharply with the lush fabric of the chair, and she stroked it softly fairly certain this was as close as she was going to get to touching Leo for a long time, if not forever. “I’m a model too. And a bodyguard and a lot of other stuff you probably don’t what to know about. And yes, my job is to keep you alive.”

  “Who hired you? I’m a busy man, but I think I would’ve noticed had I done so.” His accent was getting thicker with each sentence and Vries really had to focus in order to understand him.

  “I was assigned through the agency I work for, as to who signed the contract, I have no idea.” That was the literal truth, she suspected she’d been hired by the U.S. State Department, but she certainly couldn’t swear to it.

  “Someone hired you to protect me? Why do I need protecting?” he said.

  Vries put the bottle of water to her lips and drained it. Then rose to get another one from the small refrigerator in the coffee bar. Noting that Leo had finished his vodka, she brought the bottle over to give him a refill placing the bottle on the bedside table before resuming her seat.

  “I assume that you’re not asking that question seriously,” she said with a wry twist of her lips.

  “Yes, actually, I am serious. Who do you think would want me dead?”

  Vries pinched the bridge of her nose. This was worse than she had thought. “Putilin.”

  Leo shook his head, then took a sip of his drink. “Putilin doesn’t want me dead. He wants my money, and he wants me neutralized.”

  “I can’t think of anything more neutralized than a dead man,” she said, then leaned toward him needing to convey the urgency of the situation to him. “For God’s sake Leo you’re going to testify at a trial that will expose all the corruption in his government.”

  “Expose? There is no need to expose it. Everyone knows what he has done. He has made no attempt to hide it,” he said.

  “So why on earth would he allow this trial? What is the point?”

  Leo’s sigh seemed to come from the depths of his soul. It infuriated Vries because he sounded as though he’d given up. “It will give him an excuse to arrest me. Obviously in exposing these crimes I shall have to divulge my own complicity.”

  “Your complicity?”

  “Surely you didn’t think I was an innocent?” he said.

  “No, but if you were a criminal I doubt you’d be going back at all. Russian politics make Game of Thrones look like hopscotch, but you’re not an idiot.” she said.

  He nodded. “You are correct, to a degree. The things I did, the things all my friends did, were not illegal at the time. Putilin will bring me up on charges of the acquisition of state owned oil and mineral wells.”

  “He’s going to have you tried retroactively? How is that possible?” she said.

  “Putilin is a force onto himself. He wants my money and he wants me in prison. He wants to make an example of me. I’m worthless to him in prison,” he said.

  Vries frowned. “And you’re just going to go?”

  “I must. This trial and the ones to come will be the only record of what he has done. Everyone knows, but there must be a legal process, otherwise it is as though it never happened. I’m too well known for him to kill. He wants to put me in prison on some trumped up charges like he’s done to several others. Having me killed will arouse too much suspicion.”

  Vries stared at him for a long moment, her brain not wanting to process what her ears were telling her. This was absolutely insane.

  “If that’s the case, who do you think was shooting at you tonight?” she said through gritted teeth.

  Leo shrugged. “I am a wealthy man as you are so fond of pointing out. I have many enemies. It could’ve been a kidnapping attempt gone awry. We are in Italy after all. Is it not well-known for kidnappings?”

  “Kidnappers don’t come in with guns blazing. It pretty much defeats the purpose. And Italy hasn’t been the kidnap capital of the world for thirty years.”

  “Right now I don’t really give a damn who was shooting tonight. I’m leaving Italy in a couple of days, anyway,” he said.

  Vries stared at him in shock. “Where are you going? I thought you were staying here for a couple more weeks?”

  He sighed again, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have no reason to remain here. I’m going to Pitr.”

  “What? Who is Pitr? And what do you mean you have no reason…”

  “Did you really expect me to continue our affair knowing that you’re only with me because you were paid to be?”

  “That’s not true! Sleeping with you is not part of my job and I’ll probably get fired for it.” Nausea bubbled up in Vries’s throat and she took another sip of water to counter it. Was that really what he thought of her? Tears burned the back of her eyes and it was all she could do not to give in to the pain of his rejection and the abject terror of knowing someone was trying to kill him and she might be unable to stop them.

  “I’d heard about women like you, but never thought I’d…” he broke off the sentence with a sharp shake of his head. “Anyway, you can leave now. I’m going to St. Petersburg, my home. You will stay here in Milan and that will be the end of it. I’m going downstairs to talk to my men, when I come back I’d appreciate it if you’ve packed your things. Pushka will take you home.”

  “No, that won’t be the end of it. If you’re in St. Petersburg, I have to be there too.”

  “For this nameless person who hired you to protect me from a nonexistent threat? As you’ve seen I have more than adequate security.”

  “Yeah, and that’s why you almost came up short by a head tonight! I don’t have a choice. I have to stay with you, and if you won’t let me come with you, I’ll have to come on my own. Considering the forces against you, that puts me in danger too.”

  “Goddamnit. I have told you, there is no one trying to kill me.”

  “You couldn’t prove it by me, Leo,” she snapped back. How could someone so obviously brilliant be so fucking stupid at the same time? Of course the answer was obvious. Lelia was right; he was driven by patriotism. Willing to die for his country. God she hated the true believers, they always fucked up even the best-laid plan.

  “And I’m supposed to care if a treacherous woman like you is in danger. Why would I?”

  “Because you do. It’s a habit of yours, one you couldn’t break if you tried.”

  He sprang from the bed and grabbed her arms pulling her to her feet and into his embrace. “Goddamn you woman,” he said his jaw clenched so tightly she was surprised his teeth weren’t ground to powder. “I don’t know whether to kill you or fuck you until we both lose consciousness.” He took her mouth under his so brutally she tasted blood in her mouth. His muscled body pressed along the length of hers inciting a longing that was never far beneath the surface. It was this reaction that forced her to end the kiss, damned if she would lust after a man who thought so little of her. However, before she could
push him away he groaned against her lips and the kiss gentled. Before she could respond he raised his head, staring down at her with a peculiar combination of rage and pure lust contorting his features.

  “Do I get a vote on that?” she whispered her body automatically responding to the proximity to his.

  “But I know better than to trust you,” he said as he pushed her back down into the chair and turned to charge toward the ornate double doors at the opposite end of the suite.

  She immediately sprang back to her feet. “Where are you going?” Regardless of the fact that he was being a right bastard it was her job to protect him. If he was leaving the house she needed to know.

  “To another bedroom. I might have to take you to Pitr, but I’ll be damned if I’ll have you in my bed.”

  ***

  The next morning Vries sat at the dining room table, picking listlessly at a pastry while sipping her morning espresso. Having not slept well the previous night, she felt even crappier than she had when she went to bed. Leo must have had an even worse time of it as he hadn’t even come down yet. It was half past nine and he was usually up no later than seven. The events of the previous evening replayed through her mind as though on a continuous loop. She’d tried repeatedly to contact Deringer, but he hadn’t answered his cell, nor had he responded to emails she’d sent to several of his email addresses. She was starting to get seriously worried about him.

  Turning to rise from the table, she looked up in astonishment when Pasha came bustling into the room. The other woman was dressed melodramatically in all black; a black cashmere turtleneck and impossibly skinny cigarette pants were a perfect foil for her long blond hair. Artificially colored, of course. Vries knew Pasha had a standing appointment with a colorist every Wednesday. In actuality Pasha’s hair was almost totally gray, but the colorist did an excellent job and it swept down her back nearly to her waist.

  “Oh my Vries, I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said rushing over to Vries’s side. She paused to give her a brief kiss, enveloping Vries with the aroma of La Luz, the House of Girasol’s signature fragrance.

  Just then the housekeeper returned to the dining room and Pasha requested a cup of tea. “I don’t know how you get away with pastry in the morning, of course I am ten years older and carbohydrates are deadly for me.”

  “For me too,” Vries said.

  “Where is Lyov? Usually he’s up and about very early.”

  “I think he’s still upstairs, we had a rather exciting night,” Vries said.

  “Oh?” Pasha raised a perfectly arched brow.

  “Not that type of excitement. I’ll leave it to Leo to tell you if he’s so inclined.”

  Pasha nodded. “How very discreet of you, love, but he tells me everything. He even told me he planned to ask you out, but that you were worried about our relationship.”

  Vries smiled. None of this was relevant anymore as she was pretty sure Leo had lost all romantic interest in her, but again, she didn’t think it was her place to be sharing the man’s business with his ex-wife even if he apparently had no hesitancy in doing so.

  “It’s not a big deal…”

  “Exactly,” Pasha cut her off. “Lyova and I were never in love. And certainly are not in love now. ”

  Well that brought Vries up short. She’d known the divorce was amicable, but it had never occurred to her that they were never in love. Then why on earth had they gotten married? Her puzzlement must have shown on her face as Pasha rushed on to explain.

  “You have to understand the times we were living in. I was poor. Poor in a way you as an American could never understand,” the other woman said, her accent thickening with emotion. Pasha often faked a heavier accent, especially in business dealings. It kept the people she dealt with off-balance. But Vries was pretty sure this was authentic. Vries studied her face closely. Pasha was in her mid-forties, but managed to look barely thirty. Vries didn’t think she’d had a lift and her features were too expressive for Botox; either she had amazing genes, a helluva surgeon or she’d found the Fountain of Youth. Vries had tried Botox and found it impossible to use. As a model she needed to be able to move her face, but if Pasha had found someone this good with fillers Vries wanted to know his name immediately. She realized the other woman had stopped talking.

  “We have poverty in America,” Vries said.

  “Yes, yes, of course you do, I’ve seen 60 Minutes. What you don’t have is the desolation, the utter hopelessness that was there when I was growing up,” Pasha said.

  Vries didn’t interrupt again, though she knew what Pasha said was untrue, it was not an uncommon belief amongst the Eastern Europeans she’d met.

  Pasha continued, “I was modeling and going to school to be a pharmacist, but it was very hard. I was actually considering becoming a mail-order bride when I met Lyov at a disco. My friends told me he was rich and I set my sights on him.”

  “Okay, you didn’t love him, but how do you know he didn’t love you?” Vries said.

  “Oh, Lyova was just getting accustomed to being a wealthy man. He was like a kid in a candy shop, you say? He bought fast cars. Lots of houses. Beautiful woman. He collected me, like a painting or a crystal vase. And I let him. Fortunately we got along well. He discovered I have a brain under all this hair.”

  Vries frowned. “So why the divorce?”

  Pasha shrugged. “We grew up,” she said simply. “The relationship was empty. There was no love. No passion. I found passion with Girasol. I love it more than I could love any man. I despaired Lyova finding anything that obsessed him more than making money, then he met you. It was obvious from the very beginning that you would be his grand passion.”

  Vries shook her head. This discussion was almost surreal. “It feels so strange to be having this conversation with his ex-wife.”

  “I tell you we are like—”

  “Brother and sister.” Vries briefly closed her eyes, really tired of hearing them say that. “I know. You two really need to file that phrase under Not Helping. It just sounds creepy.”

  “I’m sorry, but it is the truth.”

  Vries took another sip of her coffee. “Okay,” she said with a sigh.

  “What is wrong with you? You are not yourself this morning. Are you sad because Lyov is leaving? He is a businessman and he will be back soon. He travels constantly, but then so do you.”

  “No, that’s not it. Besides he’s taking me with him.”

  “He is? That’s excellent. When he told me he was going to Pitr I was worried, you know.”

  “Why?” Vries asked wondering just how much information Leo had shared with Pasha.

  “I thought he was saying goodbye. How you say, a farewell tour? Pitr is our home and I know Lyov believes he will be arrested after the trial. I believe Putilin wants him dead.”

  Vries blinked. Then blinked again, astounded by the other woman’s astute observation and the fact that Leo really did tell his ex-wife everything. Vries wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Actually she did know. Fortunately she and Pasha had become fast friends almost from their first meeting, so it wasn’t as awful as it could have been. Plus she seemed to have Leo’s best interests at heart.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Think what?”

  “That Putilin wants Leo dead.”

  “Because Putilin isn’t an idiot. Those other men don’t have the type of power Lyov does. Putting him in prison will only give those wanting to overthrow the president a focus. Ideally Lyov will just disappear.”

  “If you know this why didn’t you try to talk him out of returning to Russia?”

  Pasha rolled her bright blue eyes. “Have you ever tried to talk him out of anything? Perhaps your relationship is too young…”

  Vries quickly shook her head. “No. I get your point.” Leo didn’t push worth a damn.

  “Anyway, but if he’s taking you, perhaps I’m just worried over nothing.”

  Vries made a sound of assent, unwilling to sh
are that the relationship was over and she was forcing Leo to take her with him. After all, the relationship was still her best cover.

  “Oh my goodness,” Pasha said. “You won’t have anything appropriate for winter in St. Petersburg! You will need coats and furs and boots.”

  “Pasha, the last thing I need is more clothes. I have whole Girasol lines I haven’t even worn yet, besides I’ve survived winter before,” Vries said.

  “There is nothing like a Russian winter. Look what it did to Napoleon,” Pasha said shaking her head.

  “That was Moscow, not Pitr. Leave it to you Pasha to find a way to spend more of my money.”

  Vries whirled around as Leo entered the room. Eating him with her eyes she took in every facet of his appearance. He looked as exhausted as she felt which was no mean feat. The lines of his face were drawn and his complexion was gray. His light eyes stood out vividly against the dark circles under them.

  For several breathless seconds he returned her look, staring as though he was as helpless to look away as she. “She’s right, you know. You will need appropriate winter clothing.”

  “I’m sure that what I have will be fine, and I can buy my own clothes if they’re needed. I can’t wear fur anyway. I’ve done a PETA campaign,” Vries said.

  “Yes I know,” his voice deepening to a near growl. “As though I could forget you posing nude for anyone who cared to look. That won’t be happening again.”

  Vries gasped, but before she could even formulate a rebuttal to his high-handedness he continued. “PETA has never spent winter in Pitr, if they had, they’d be skinning the little bastards with their teeth. Since you are coming to St. Petersburg on my behalf it’s only fair that I buy any clothing you need for you.”