Alexei_A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

by Ava Bloom

  And what had I expected to gain from going home with some random guy?

  I sighed and shifted as much as I could given the ropes binding me to the chair. Whatever I’d expected, it certainly hadn’t been this.

  Sometimes, I honestly wished I could go back to when Alexei left Russia. What if things had been different then? What if I had come with him to Barcelona, or what if we had gotten married and he had refused to leave St. Petersburg?

  I’d been through these scenarios a dozen times, and they never had any sort of happy conclusion. I hadn’t left St. Petersburg because I hadn’t wanted anything to do with the Volkov family mob on their home ground in Barcelona. Alexei hadn’t stayed with me in St. Petersburg because he hadn’t wanted to lose his entire family, and they would have shunned him if he’d refused to do his part for the family. It would have been an act of disloyalty of the highest measure, as far as they were concerned.

  But sometimes, I could almost picture it.

  I didn’t know what Alexei’s place looked like here in Barcelona, but I knew he had money, thanks to the deals he’d made over the years. He probably lived in some opulent, sprawling estate on the beach. In the mornings, we’d have made love in our bed as sea-breezes wafted through the open balcony doors. There would have been breakfasts in bed—fresh fruit and the tastes of home. We would have explored the city together, and gone for long walks on the beach.

  And I didn’t think either one of us would have been happy.

  I sighed and shook my head. That was the crux of it, really. We both belonged in our life back in Petersburg. I just hadn’t been able to convince Alexei of that.

  The door swung open, and two dark figures stalked into the warehouse, making their way through the clutter to where I was sitting. I was surprised to see Alexei there—closely followed by Estevan, the Spaniard from the club the previous night.

  “Yup, this is her,” Alexei said, scowling at me before I could find my voice. “My stupid little sister, Yulia.”

  I blinked at the pointed way that he said that. If only my mind didn’t feel quite so sluggish—again, after-effects of whatever they’d drugged me with, I was sure.

  Estevan looked between the two of us, a frown on his face. “Fuck off, this isn’t your sister,” he said narrowing his eyes. “I want proof,” he said. “Your word doesn’t mean anything to me, Russian.”

  “Fair enough,” Alexei said, pulling out his state-of-the-art cellphone. “Here’s a picture of Yulia here and I when we were children, at one of our family reunions. As you can see, she never really grew into those ears of hers.”

  Estevan laughed when he saw it, and I felt my face heat up in a brilliant blush. I knew exactly which picture Alexei must be showing the Spaniard; it had been in one of my mother’s old albums, and Alexei had seen it one day back when we were living together. He had teased me mercilessly about how far my ears stuck out from my hair—but later, I’d found that he’d carefully removed the photo from the album and framed it for our mantle. An early piece of our history, he’d told me when I’d asked about it.

  I was surprised that he still had a copy of the photo on his phone.

  I was still surprised that he was here at all, let alone covering for me like this. But then again, that was probably just business. Estevan had mentioned something about the arms deal; I’m sure the Volkov family was worried about what information this guy would get out of me.

  I stared at Estevan for a long moment, trying to figure out who he must be. He didn’t hold himself like someone from the military or the police. And with his weasel face, I had a feeling he was just another gang member. I tried to remember what I knew about gangs here in Barcelona. There wasn’t much, but I remembered some mention of Audaz, the Volkov family’s rivals for territory in the city.

  I grimaced, realizing I must have walked right into some sort of trap somehow. Or else I’d just been majorly unlucky, somehow.

  I sighed and shook my head. I never should have left St. Petersburg. I should have known I would get into trouble here.

  But Estevan finally nodded at Alexei. “I apologize for my confusion,” he finally said, moving behind me and cutting the ropes that bound me.

  “You’re letting me go?” I asked in surprise. “Just like that?”

  Estevan sneered at me. “As much as I’d like to screw you again, I don’t think your brother would appreciate the show,” he said, pushing me roughly towards Alexei.

  Alexei looked like he wanted to fight the other man, but he wisely held his tongue, grabbing my wrist and tugging me along. “He has better things to do,” he said airily as he led me away.

  I stumbled along with him, struggling to keep up with his longer legs and quick pace. But he didn’t slow down for me; instead, he just dragged me along, until I was breathless.

  I didn’t protest, though: I didn’t want to stick around waiting for Estevan to change his mind.

  We stumbled out onto the sidewalk, and Alexei expertly led me down the street and into the subway. Soon enough, we were being whisked off across the city. We rode in silence, but I couldn’t keep from watching Alexei. He was obviously still shaken by the whole incident, his face pale. He kept looking nervously around, like he expected other members of Audaz to jump out at any point and take both of us hostage.

  Finally, we reached our station, and Alexei led the way out into the sunshine, his grip still too-tight on my wrist. Still, I never said a word.

  He turned to face me, cupping my cheek with his palm. “Don’t you ever do something that stupid again.”

  I nodded, still wordless in my gratitude.

  7

  Alexei

  I brought Yulia back to my beach house. It probably wasn’t the smartest move, going straight there from the Audaz headquarters, but all I could think about was getting her back to someplace that felt safe. Someplace where Audaz would have to be stupid to mess with me. The Volkov family would skin them alive if they dared trespass on my property.

  I immediately went into the living room and poured myself a drink at the bar, taking a big gulp of the sharp-tasting liquor, reveling in the burn in my throat. Yulia was still watching me fearfully, her eyes wide. She hadn’t said anything since I had rescued her, I suddenly realized, feeling worry flare up inside of me.

  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” I asked, setting down my drink and coming closer to the woman, wanting to reach for her. But I held back, waiting for some sign from her that she was okay.

  Yulia shook her head and cleared her throat. “I know he said—that. About sex. But I don’t even think we…”

  I breathed out a breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding. “Good,” I said. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Один – два – три … When I opened my eyes, I stared at Yulia for another long moment. “I’m serious, if you ever do something that stupid… I’m not sure I can promise I’ll be able to save you so easily next time,” I told her. “You’re lucky he believed that stupid story, I didn’t know what else to tell him.”

  “My father would have-“

  “Your father is bankrupt,” I interrupted coldly. It wasn’t my secret to tell, but it was time she realized what she was really tied up in. “What the hell did you think he was doing here, doing business with Evgeni? He wants this just as little as you do, but he couldn’t see any other way out. And the last thing he wanted was to let his beautiful young daughter know that her father was a failure.”

  “He’s not a failure,” Yulia said tearfully.

  I sighed and pulled her into my arms. “I’m sorry,” I said, holding her close. “You don’t know how worried I was when Nikolai told me…”

  “Nikolai told you where I was?” Yulia asked in surprise.

  “He recognized Estevan when you were still there in Ritmo with him. He made sure to follow you.” I paused and then said bitterly, “Of course, you made it impossible for him to intervene since you willingly followed the guy right back to Audaz territory.”

  “I
think they drugged me,” Yulia said, her voice barely a whisper.

  “I saw,” I snarled. “You were so busy trying to make me jealous that you weren’t paying attention at all.”

  “You saw him drug me and you didn’t step in?”

  “We couldn’t start a fight with Audaz on our territory,” I told her, pulling away. “Anyway, don’t you think you got what you deserved? I can’t believe you. Dressing up so sexy like that and just trying to make me angry as you went off with someone else. What the hell were you playing at?”

  Yulia dropped her eyes, and I could see tears pooling on her lashes. “We can’t…” She swallowed hard. “I miss you, Alexei,” she finally said, her voice plaintive.

  I felt my heart break a little, just staring at her. I folded my arms across my chest to keep from reaching for her. “You’re going back to Russia tomorrow,” I said, my voice thick.

  “I have to,” Yulia said, looking up at me.

  I sighed and ran a hand back through my hair. “Yulka, as much as I wish things could be different, I don’t think I can leave Barcelona.” I paused and then continued frankly, “I don’t like it here, to be honest. I wish I were back in Petersburg. I wish I were back with you. But I’ve made my discontentment known—for years now. Evgeni can still use me here, and I can’t just abandon my family.”

  “What are you doing that no one else could do, anyway?” Yulia asked bitterly. “Sure, you’re family—but your family is big enough that surely Dmitry or Vanya or Nikolai or anybody could do everything that you’re doing for them.”

  “It’s not that easy,” I said, shaking my head. “You know I studied diplomacy. I’m the one with all the contacts with the local police. I’m the one who ensures that our position here stays comfortable. None of my cousins have the level of tact required for that. And money will only get us so far, especially when it’s not like Audaz is lacking in money either.”

  Yulia stared at me for a long moment and then looked away. “If you really wanted to leave, you’d find a way,” she said with quiet conviction.

  I scowled, but I didn’t want to fight with her anymore. She would leave Barcelona the following morning, and that was already going to be difficult enough without us fighting through it. I didn’t like the thought of losing her again, and especially not on bad terms.

  “Come on,” I finally said, leading her through the house towards the kitchen. “You’re probably hungry. Let’s spend your last day out on the beach and then I’ll take you back home to your father.”

  “Can we have a picnic, like we used to?” Yulia asked as we went into the kitchen.

  I smiled a little, remembering those summer days when we used to take the tram out to Tarkhovka. That sandy beach had been nothing special, but on warm days with Yulia, there had been something almost magical about it. I shook my head, trying to forget those memories and keep myself in the present.

  “Sure,” I told her, already thinking through what I might have that was picnic-worthy.

  We brought sandwiches and some side dishes out to the beach with us in an old cloth shopping bag that had been in the house since before I had moved in. Yulia spread out the blanket on the sand and we both sat down.

  For a long time, I just watched as she stared out over the water, wriggling her toes in the sand. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that I wanted to say to her—but it wasn’t worth saying that I loved her now. It would only make things more difficult on both of us the next day.

  “I have a dog back in St. Petersburg,” Yulia said suddenly, watching as a man threw a frisbee for his dog further down the beach. She laughed. “He’s such a stupid dog, you’d hate him. He can’t fetch, he can’t do any tricks. He’s big and dumb, and he likes to sleep on the whole couch. He isn’t allowed in bed with me anymore because I got sick of him rolling on top of me in the middle of the night. But I love him.”

  “What’s his name?” I asked, trying to picture Yulia with a dog. Yulia with a life that didn’t involve me.

  “Ginger,” Yulia said. She laughed again. “But he isn’t ginger at all. He’s got dark fur, and it’s usually all tangled. I have to brush it more often than I have to brush my own hair!”

  I snorted. Then, I paused. “Do you still live…in the same apartment?”

  “No,” Yulia said finally. She shrugged and looked over at me. “It was too difficult after you left. I kept expecting you to walk in the front door. But I like my new place.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “Of course, it’s not a palace like your place here! But it’s cozy.”

  I smiled over at her and then got to my feet. “I’m going to go for a swim before I eat,” I told her. “Do you want to join me?”

  “I don’t have a swimsuit,” Yulia said, frowning at me.

  I rolled my eyes. “You’ve got a bra and panties, and it’s a private beach,” I pointed out.

  She stared at me for a moment and then accepted my hand up, quickly stripping off her dress and running down into the spray.

  I smiled after her, thinking about how she wasn’t the woman that I had once loved—but I still loved her all the same. I sighed and followed her into the water, reminding myself again that I couldn’t keep her there in Barcelona with me.

  8

  Yulia

  Our day at the beach was fun, but I could tell that Alexei had something on his mind the whole time. I wanted to ask about it, but it almost felt as though I’d spoil the moment in doing so. The last thing I wanted was for him to turn away from me.

  Of course, that was exactly what I’d been trying to get him to do the night before when I’d gone home with Estevan. But in the past 24 hours, something had changed between us. It was silly to want something more with Alexei; his life was here in Barcelona and mine was nearly two thousand miles away in St. Petersburg.

  It was probably just some form of Stockholm Syndrome anyway. The only reason my feelings for Alexei were renewed was because he had swooped in to save me when I’d thought that all hope was lost.

  That’s not true, my inner voice reminded me snidely. It wasn’t just that he had saved me.

  There was our history. There was the sex we’d had earlier that week, in his cousin’s pantry. There was the way the waves crashed over his bare chest, making his firm muscles glisten in the sun…

  I couldn’t help swimming towards him, running my hands along his slippery chest. Alexei didn’t hold back either, his hands slipping along my curves, pulling me closer to him. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he looked seriously into my eyes. My whole body was crying out for him to kiss me…but eventually, Alexei slowly let me down onto the sand, backing away.

  He cleared his throat. “We probably…shouldn’t,” he said quietly.

  I nodded slowly, a pang in my heart.

  That night, I couldn’t seem to leave, even though I knew I should head back to Father and let him see for himself that I was all right. Alexei had called him from the beach to let him know that I was all right, putting him on speaker phone so that I could hear as well.

  There had been no mention of Audaz, to my surprise. Instead, Alexei told Father that I had gone home with Nikolai and some of the other Russians, and that I had passed out on one of their couches. Father had been so grateful to hear from me that he hadn’t even questioned why I hadn’t called.

  “Why did you lie to him?” I asked curiously as Alexei hung up the phone.

  Alexei shrugged. “He doesn’t need to hear about you trying to fuck some random Spaniard,” he muttered. “Anyway, he would just worry about you for the rest of the time you were here.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “And it has nothing to do with you being scared that he’d never let me come to Barcelona again?” I asked shrewdly.

  Alexei didn’t meet my eyes for a moment. Then, he smiled wryly. “That may be part of it,” he said.

  We went inside, and still I lingered, even though I knew my very presence there in his house was a promise that neither of us could handle r
ight now. Even if I wanted to come back to Barcelona at some point, I didn’t know when I’d be able to. I had used up all of my vacation days on this trip with Father.

  But I busied myself in the kitchen anyway, pleased to find that despite Alexei’s bachelorhood, he had a pretty well-stocked pantry.

  “I have a cook,” he said when I asked. “She’s Russian. She stocks everything I need and comes over a couple nights a week to make sure I have a few home-cooked meals in my fridge at all times.” He shook his head and leaned towards me conspiratorially. “Her cooking has nothing on yours, honestly. But it’s the best that I can find in this god-forsaken city.”

  I laughed. “The food at your weekly dinner with your cousins was good,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah, Dmitry and Andrei are especially good in the kitchen. The rest of us have a couple staple recipes that we rotate through.”

  “Any requests for tonight?” I asked, even though I already knew what I was planning to make.

  Alexei just sat back and watched me, sipping at a dark glass of beer. “You probably wouldn’t appreciate it if I told you what I really wanted to put in my mouth right now,” he said, leering at me.

  I shivered, a sharp burst of lust traveling through my body. I turned away from him so that he couldn’t see my blush. “That’s not on the menu,” I said tartly.

  “That’s a shame,” Alexei sighed, his voice surprisingly wistful.

  When I glanced over at him, he was looking out the window. I shook my head and went back to my cooking.

  “You know, I’ve always thought it was sexy, watching you cook,” Alexei said a little while later.

  I snorted, determined not to think about the things we could be doing right now. If I started thinking about his bedroom, about being there beneath him, I was going to burn the soup. Instead, I gave him a salty look. “You only think it’s sexy to watch me cook because you’re looking for that perfect Russian wife,” I said teasingly. “The one who will always listen to you, give you a lot of healthy and strong children, and take care of your home.”