by Amy Deason
The groan escaped her lips before she knew it.
“What’s wrong? Do you need to stop?” Nikolas stepped in front of her, forcing her to pause.
Tipping her head, she looked at him. A refreshing breeze ruffled the strands of his black hair and his eyes, obsidian at best, gazed down at her, deep and unreadable. Dark stubble was beginning to line his jaw, lending him a sexier, more dangerous look.
Like he needed it.
Geez, why did he have to be so hot, so intriguing, so . . . so everything?
The asshole.
“I’m fine.” Gritting her teeth, she blocked out the way his arm felt underneath her fingertips as she brushed past him. And tried to dismiss the smell of his skin. A raw, masculine scent. The unique scent that was Nikolas. But it beckoned her, making her crave something he would never give her.
She shrugged the heartache aside and kept walking, only a few steps ahead of Nikolas. Thankful for the space he gave her, limited as it was, she managed to admire some of the scenery throughout the remainder of the thirty minute hike. Small chapels and sketes decorated the sun-drenched forest, turning it into something spiritual. What she wouldn’t give to have come here under different circumstances. To soak up the peace and beauty of this place, of this world which was so entirely different from anything she had ever experienced. But it was what it was. There was nothing she could do about it now.
Raising her eyes from the tan earth beneath her feet, she caught her first glimpse of their destination.
A row of pearly hued buildings separated them from the monastery which loomed above them. At the stone arch, a set of ebony-robed monks waited patiently, watching them approach with hooded eyes. She smiled cautiously, wishing desperately that she had learned at least a little Russian before coming to this holy place. Their faces, one lean and smooth, the other squatty and creased, remained stoic as they approached.
Stepping past her, Nikolas addressed the holy men and quickly repeated, in Russian, their purpose for being here. Or at least she thought that’s what he’d said. The words sounded the same anyway. And she heard her last name again. With a silent nod, the men ushered them inside where they were met with an identical set of buildings.
The large space between the two structures were dotted with miniature gardens. Flowers and vegetables sprouted from the raised beds, each one filled to the brim with the darkest, richest looking soil she’d ever seen. More monks, all clothed in black, tended to the beauty around them. They clipped, watered, tilled, and fertilized each individual section. Never glancing in their direction, each man concentrated on their task as if it were their divine purpose.
She would have loved to stand back and just watch them but Nikolas was incessantly urging her forward. Casting one last wistful glance over her shoulder at the peaceful work going on behind her, she faced forward and found herself looking at a second, much-larger arch, this one locked with a heavy latticed yett. The yett, or gate, reminded her of the ones used in castles as the last line of defense before reaching the inner sanctum of the king. The similarity of this situation was not lost on her.
Through the black wrought-iron fence, she gazed up at the monastery. Its walls, dark-red stone trimmed in white, reached for the sky, each of the five domes painted a delicate shade of blue and adorned with a bright crimson cross.
With another series of incomprehensible Russian, Nikolas gained them access and led her through the black gate. Once inside, she turned in a slow circle, admiring the elaborate building. As her spin came to a halt, she caught Nikolas staring at her and the expression on his face made her breath catch. His face had lost its angry edge and a gentle smile played on his lips. He looked boyish and happy. She’d never seen him like this before and it sent her heart soaring. A tiny bud of foolish hope bloomed in her chest.
Nikolas looked away quickly and cleared his throat. “Come on, they’re waiting for us inside.”
Opening the heavy wooden door, they stepped inside.
Finally, she thought, it was time to get some answers.
Chapter 17
Dmitri’s breathing grew harsh but instead of backing down, he continued to push himself harder, shoving the handles of the butterfly press together, tightening the muscles in his chest as he did. One, two, three . . . Sweat rolled down his face and back but Dmitry barely noticed. His mind was focused on the Cadence.
She was on the island. Just like he’d thought she’d be.
His informants, the vagabonds living in the squatty villages on Valaam, were more than happy to keep their eyes and ears open for him. After all, without his money, they might very well be living in the sewers with the rest of the country’s homeless. It might be better for them if they were. True, they might get to sleep in a bed under a roof instead of in a dirty sleeping bag underneath the city streets but at what cost? Because once they accepted his money, he owned them.
It was good to be rich.
But it would be even better to be unstoppable. And he would be. Just as soon as he got his hands on Phillip’s formula.
Which by his calculations, should be less than forty-eight hours from now. Once he had received confirmation of the girl’s arrival on the island, he’d made the call to a very special individual. The man was good. Better than most he worked with. He knew how to get in and out of situations without raising suspicions. Your typical all-around-good-guy. The kind you would invite over to a family BBQ or maybe your daughter’s dance recital or whatever stupid shit families did together. He was perfect for the job. His skills didn’t come cheap but Dmitry didn’t mind paying as long as he got what he wanted.
Standing from the press machine, he reached for a towel and wiped the sweat from his body. Three hours in here may seem like a lot to most people but this is where he did his best thinking. And let off the most steam without hurting anyone. He was fine with inflicting pain but doing it too often would cause a stir.
He settled his feet into the familiar pattern and crouched down low, grasping the titanium bar with both hands. Taking a deep breath, he stood, pulling the deadlift bar with him as he went. Four hundred pounds was beginning to be a breeze for him. Next week he would up the weight. Up, down, up, down. He continued to do the exercise until sweat began to pour from every pore.
He enjoyed working out, making his heart pound and his blood pump. It was all a part of keeping himself in shape and ready for whatever life threw at him. He would never go back to being that small, scared street urchin. He would never be intimated again. He would never back down. He would have total control.
Dumping the bar, he stood, flexing his shoulders. The muscles in his arms ached but it was a good ache. A clean, refreshing tightness that made him feel alive and vibrant. He could keep going but a quick glance at the wall clock reminded him he was running low on time today. The meeting with his shareholders was in less than two hours, giving him just enough time to shower and eat.
He hated these fucking meetings. Boring as hell. Crotchety old men in three-piece business suits droning on about market values and quarterly earnings. He shouldn’t have to convince them to keep investing in his company. By now, they should see just how brilliant he was and how staying with him would be financially beneficial to them for years to come. But he supposed he had to keep the sniveling weasels happy. At least for the time being.
Turning on the shower full blast, he stepped under the hot spray, feeling the pelting drops hit his body. As he lathered up, his mind returned to Phillip Montgomery and that meddling daughter of his. What right did either of them have to stand up to him? To defy him? Bloody Americans, thinking they could do whatever they wanted, when they wanted. And in his country too.
Well, he’d shown Phillip who was boss and what would happen if he refused to cooperate. The bastard was dead, lying at the bottom of a limestone cave somewhere. A proper burial for the moral f
launting scientist.
Now it seemed the lesson would need to be repeated with his kid. Good thing he was in the teaching mood.
~ ~ ~
Jesus was everywhere.
His likeness stared down at them from every available space. From portraits encased in gilded frames the size of a barn door to hand-drawn images not much bigger than a postage stamp. Statues created from ivory, gold, and marble lined the hallway. Even the dome above them, a spectacular vision of stained-glass, bore the semblance of the Holy being. Angels and saints were carefully woven throughout the room as well, creating a spiritual ambiance so deep that even he, a relatively unreligious man, could feel.
Before the weight of his sins could rise up enough to smother him, Nikolas glanced back to get Cadence’s take on the place. Earlier, just inside the fence surrounding the monastery, she’d been luminous. Absolutely radiant. Sheer wonder and joy lit her features and pure happiness danced in her eyes. She had been breathtaking and he hadn’t been able to take his eyes from her. At least not until she’d caught him staring.
He was thrilled to see the effect was repeated within these walls. Her blue eyes skipped across each molded surface, gobbling up every detail as if she were starving for them. Something in his chest hitched as he watched the amazement light up every inch of her face. She deserved to be this happy, this content for the rest of her life and for a moment, he desperately wished to be the one to give that to her. To be the one to make her smile and laugh every day from this day forward.
But he wasn’t.
The euphoric feeling sputtered and took a nose dive, spiraling out of control in an explosion of fire and smoke before crashing to the ground below.
He could never be that man. It wasn’t in him to do such a thing. Even if he wanted to.
“Ah, Mr. Kozlov and Ms. Montgomery, you have arrived.”
Nikolas regarded the man approaching him.
The customary black robe, belted at the waist, disclosed a tall, lanky frame and wide set shoulders. His rawboned face was unlined, making it impossible to guess his age but his beard, a chestnut-colored wave, cascaded from his chin to the point just below his breastbone where an ornate silver cross lay. Nikolas guessed him to be between twenty-five and thirty.
Around my age. Although I imagine our life experiences are vastly different.
“I am Brother Gagarin. Welcome to Valaam,” he continued, each word enunciated carefully.
Thankfully, the monk was speaking English. Though difficult for him, it was obviously for Cadence’s benefit. Nikolas was supremely thankful for that. It would save him a lot of wasted time explaining to her what was being said.
He would love to teach her his native language sometime.
Almost immediately, the logical part of him spoke up, deflating the thought. But there won’t be a ‘sometime’ will there? This is the end of the road for you and her . . .
Nikolas cleared his throat and pushed the truth from the sinister voice aside. “Thank you. I believe Bishop Vasilevsky is expecting us.”
“Yes, of course. However, Bishop Vasilevsky is tending to an urgent matter. He sends his apologies but promises to meet with you directly after lunch.” Brother Gagarin’s green eyes flickered between him and Cadence, including both of them in the conversation.
Urgent matter? What could possibly be more urgent than this?
Nikolas could feel the anger rising. This whole damn mission had taken much longer than he’d expected. And being near Cadence was beginning to drive him insane. Everything about her was needling at him, chipping away at his armor and he didn’t like it. He needed to get away from her but until they talked to Vasilevsky, there was no chance of it happening.
Sucking in a deep breath, he pushed the volatile emotion down. It would not be a good idea to lose his temper now. Especially in this place. But lunch was several hours away. What the fuck were they going to do in the meantime?
The illicit idea formed before he could stop it. He could take Cadence to the only hotel on the island, peel those layers of clothes from her body, and explore her at his leisure. He would run his tongue over every inch of her velvety soft skin, making her moan and writhe against him. He felt himself growing hard as he imagined himself between those sweet, supple thighs and his breath caught involuntarily.
Dear Lord, what is she doing to me?
Whatever it was, it needed to stop. Now. Being with her was not an option. Not even close. He’d sworn to himself, and to her, that he would not touch her again. And besides, after the way he’d treated her this morning, there was no chance in hell she was going to let him get that close to her again. But dear God in Heaven, he wanted her more than he had anyone else in his life.
Suck it up, Kozlov. It’s not going to happen. You had her once already and once is enough.
But was it?
He didn’t think so. Not nearly enough.
“Is there someone else we can talk to?” Cadence said. “Please, it’s very important.” She held her hands to her chest, the fingers tightly interlocked.
Nikolas grimaced at her pleading tone. It was obvious she wanted to be away from him as soon as possible.
Job well done, Kozlov, you shithead.
Brother Gagarin was shaking his head and for a moment, Nikolas had the crazy thought the monk was responding to the mental beratement he was treating himself to. But that was ridiculous. He was a shithead and it didn’t take a man of God to see it.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Montgomery, but Bishop Vasilevsky insisted he be the one to talk to you about this matter. I understand this is an inconvenience but perhaps you might want to explore the island? It is quite beautiful this time of year.”
Cadence’s bottom lip puffed out as she sighed.
Nikolas groaned. He wanted to bite it.
“I suppose if it’s the only option we have . . .”
“There is much to see inside the monastery walls as well. I could give you a guided tour if you would like,” the monk responded with a kind smile.
What the hell? Weren’t monks supposed to be celibate?
Jeez, get control of yourself, Kozlov. He is not interested in her. He’s only being nice. And even if he was, what’s it to you? You don’t want to be involved with her anymore remember?
“I’m sure we can manage,” Nikolas interjected, putting himself back into the conversation and drawing Brother Gagarin’s attention away from Cadence.
With a nod, the ebony-cloaked monk began to turn away only to face them again. “I don’t mean to intrude but I couldn’t help but notice Ms. Montgomery’s skin is rather raw. If she would like, I could bring some lotion.”
“Oh no,” Cadence said, “I tried some on the boat but it burned like hell . . . uh, like fire.”
Speaking of fire, Nikolas thought, her face was the color of flames right now and it wasn’t from her attempt to wash him away either. Embarrassment lent a color to her cheeks that even the raw skin couldn’t hide.
“I understand. But the lotion we have here is extremely soothing. We make it ourselves,” the monk said in a persuading tone.
She flashed her pearly whites and dipped her head appreciatively. “Okay. That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
“If you would like to wait in your room, I will bring it to you shortly.”
Cadence’s brow furrowed in confusion. “My room? What are you talking about?”
Brother Gagarin had the decency to flush as he looked from Cadence to Nikolas and back again. “Oh, I assumed you knew. There has been a room reserved for you at the Hotel Igumenskaya.”
Nikolas felt Cadence’s eyes blazing into him without even looking her way. Ignoring her, he nodded toward the monk. “That will be fine. Thank you.”
Eager to escape, Brother Gagarin disappeared down a hallway like a puf
f of smoke.
Nikolas faced Cadence, not surprised to see distrust looming large in those sparkling blue eyes. Holding up his hand, he stopped her rant before she even got started.
“Before you jump to conclusions, I reserved the hotel while we were in St. Petersburg. I wasn’t sure how long we would need to be here. Actually,” he continued,” we should have arrived last night.”
In another time and place, he might have laughed as the wind left her sails and her face fell. But there was nothing funny about it.
“Oh, I, uh, I thought . . .” She stared down at her fingers as they twisted around each other.
“I know what you thought, Cadence, and it couldn’t be further from the truth. Now let’s go. Brother Gagarin will be bringing his miracle lotion back soon.” Turning abruptly, Nikolas led them back the way they had entered.
His words had come out sharp and cold, just the way they should be. Just the way they needed to be. He was telling the truth about the hotel’s reservation date. He did make it back at the safe house in St. Petersburg and by all accounts, they should have been here last night. But that’s where the truth stopped.
Stopped, hell. It shriveled up and died.
When he’d made the reservation, he’d considered the likely possibility of seducing the truth out of her. But there was no need for that anymore was there? He’d gotten what he needed in the car ride to Priozersk. And then so much more on the boat in the wee morning hours.
But none of it changed his inclinations toward her. He still wanted nothing more than to take her back to the hotel room and spend the rest of the day between the sheets with her. Or on top of the sheets. Or on the floor. Or in the shower. It didn’t matter where as long as their naked bodies were entwined and he could touch her as much as he wanted.
