I opened my mouth to argue, but he chose that moment to plunge two fingers up into me and I arched my back and moaned—
Running footsteps, then an apologetic cough from behind him. Konstantin twisted around with a sound that was almost a snarl. But he didn’t yell at the man who’d run into the room, just waited, his massive chest rising and falling as he panted.
The man said just three words. “It’s Ralavich. Here.”
Konstantin just stared at him in disbelief. As he took it in, his face turned...bleak. Haunted in a way that made me want to wrap my arms around him.
Then his jaw tightened and his eyes went so mercilessly, bitterly cold I drew in my breath and pressed my back against the banister. I’d glimpsed a warmer side to him but this was the opposite. This was him filled with raw, jagged hate. Ralavich. I knew that name.
“I need to deal with this,” muttered Konstantin. And he wheeled around and stalked out. I raced to pull my dress back into place before any of the guards got a good look at my bare breast and hiked-up skirt but I needn’t have worried: when I looked around, every one of them had their eyes averted. They didn’t dare look.
Except one. Grigory was muttering orders to the other guards but his eyes were still on me, his expression unreadable. I swallowed and hooked my shoulder strap back into place, then smoothed the hem down. I told the guards I was going upstairs to unpack and started to climb the staircase, but I could feel Grigory’s eyes burning into my back. My stomach was in knots. I must have made a mistake. Because somehow, he knows.
15
Konstantin
Ralavich. I’d heard his name and suddenly I’d been twenty years in the past, watching everything I cared about being torn away from me.
And I’d frozen. Weak. So weak. I couldn’t afford to freeze or hesitate, not even for an instant. Now the rage was thundering through me, the need to find him and destroy him making my hands clench into fists. I’d tried to have that bastard killed many times, over the last two decades. But he was as well-protected as I was. If he was really here in New York, maybe I’d have the chance to do it myself.
But he can’t be here. It made no sense. Every scrap of New York was taken by me, Luka or Angelo. Soon, it would all be mine. Ralavich wouldn’t be able to gain a toehold in this city... unless there was something I was missing.
I scowled. I don’t like mysteries. I have enough to deal with, keeping everything running smoothly. And building, every day building, growing my empire a street at a time.
And meanwhile the FBI were always sniffing around, trying to find something they could use to bring me down. The woman they had running things, Carrie Blake, was like a dog with a bone. She made a point of coming on busts, just so she could glare at me as I watched one of my guys led away in cuffs. She was a straight arrow, impossible to bribe, which I had to grudgingly respect. She was good looking, too, in an elegant, older woman way, with silver hair that made me think of beryozka trees. I’d actually run into her at a party, once, by pure chance. She had her hair pinned up and was in a deep red evening gown. When we saw each other, she almost dropped her martini and I almost crushed my whiskey glass. But both of us rallied quickly.
She’d glared at me. Mr. Gulyev. And I thought this was a civilized party.
No, Ms. Blake. Apparently, they let just about anyone in.
The woman was a thorn in my side. I knew she had people watching me. I never saw them, but I could feel them, sometimes, like when I’d met that property developer at the construction site.
The only good news was that Christina was back. I’d sleep well tonight.
Christina. I licked my lips. She’d tasted different. Innocent in a way that didn’t fit Christina at all. She almost reminded me of that woman in my hotel room, Hailey. Christina had always been eager and confident in bed, but ultimately she was... glossy. Like those magazines American women read, with the perfectly edited model on the front, alluring but somehow fake.
This new Christina was clumsy, tentative... almost shy. But she was real and that turned me on like nothing else. I’d only intended to kiss her, not go at her up against the banister like a couple of teenagers. But the accident had changed her, somehow... and I loved it.
I thought of the way she’d responded to me, her tongue urgent, almost desperate against mine, her walls satiny tight and slick, clutching at my fingers as I’d explored her. Even now, my cock was rock hard in my pants.
I’d find out what was happening with Ralavich. And then, tonight, I had to fuck her.
16
Hailey
I WAS SO BUSY thinking about Grigory watching me, I’d reached the landing at the top of the stairs before I realized I had no idea where I was going. I don’t know where our bedroom is!
I risked a glance over my shoulder. Grigory was still glaring up at me. He actually took a step towards the stairs as if he was going to follow, but then one of the other guards asked him a question and he cursed and turned to the man to answer him. While he was distracted, I raced up the remaining stairs and went right, picking a direction at random. I just wanted to get out of his sight and find our room before anyone—
“Well, that seemed to go okay.”
The voice came out of nowhere and it was so sudden I literally jumped, then flattened myself into an alcove, eyes everywhere, trying to find the source.
And then it sunk in that the voice was familiar. Calahan, in my earpiece. I slumped in relief. Then, as I replayed what he’d said in my mind, my face went hot.
He’d been listening to everything.
I swallowed. The kissing at the airport, what had just happened downstairs...hearing wasn’t the same as seeing, but...I remembered the moan I’d made, when Konstantin slid his fingers into me, and flushed harder. Had Calahan sounded jealous? Or was that just my imagination? “Yeah,” I muttered at last. “Now I have to find our room. Any ideas?”
“Sorry,” said Calahan. “We know zip about the inside of the mansion. You’re going to have to do some exploring.”
I started along the landing. The mansion was huge, but most of the doors I opened led to unused bedrooms, some completely empty and some with beds covered in dust sheets. The rooms were amazing: the ceilings were so high I had to squint to see all the intricate plasterwork and the chandeliers were iron octopuses the size of small cars, draped in glittering glass. You could have opened the place as a hotel for at least fifty guests. But it looked like Konstantin never had anyone to stay.
As I walked, I thought about the name I’d heard downstairs, the one that had enraged Konstantin. “Ralavich,” I said to Calahan. “You don’t think he means Dmitri Ralavich?”
Two years ago, in Alaska, my friend Kate had almost died when she’d come up against a Russian mob boss by that name. A truly evil man, notorious for trafficking women.
I could hear Calahan working a keyboard. “He started out in St. Petersburg, same as Konstantin. It would make sense for them to be rivals. But what the hell would Ralavich be doing in New York? There’s no territory he could take here: Konstantin and the other two bosses have the city all sewn up.”
By now, I’d made my way up to the top floor and right to the end of the west wing. I pushed open a big set of double doors... and gasped. I’d finally found the master bedroom, or rather the master bedroom suite. There was a massive bedroom complete with an Emperor-size bed, separate dressing rooms and bathrooms for Konstantin and me and a sort of lounge area. God, this place was fit for a king and queen. Or maybe a Tsar and his Tsarina.
I’d thought the clothes Christina had brought back from Milan were amazing, but her walk-in wardrobe was something else. One entire wall was devoted to shoes, from elegant, calfskin-leather knee boots to stilettos in every conceivable color. I picked up an amazing pair of midnight-blue kitten heels and sighed. I’m not big on fashion, but even I recognized this as shoe heaven... and none of them would fit. I was going to have to quietly buy some replacements in my size and use those. If Konstantin had a
favorite pair he liked to see me in, I was in big trouble.
The clothes were less of a problem. They’d fit, if maybe a bit tightly on the bust. I’d just need to work up the courage to wear them. Christina seemed to like low necklines or high slits, or both. And then there was an entire section devoted to lingerie, each matching set neatly arranged on a hanger together with packs of expensive stockings. Am I really going to wear this...for him?
“How’s it going?” asked Calahan in my ear. “Find anything useful?”
I quickly left the closet and started searching the room. “Got his laptop,” I said. It was on a table next to a vase of flowers and I stared at the scene for a few seconds, my eye for detail kicking in and noting how the laptop was angled and where a few fallen petals had fallen onto it. I powered the machine on but just like Calahan, I was stymied when it asked for a hardware key. Without that, we weren’t getting in.
There was a tiny crack on the landing outside the door. Shit! I powered off the laptop and angled it just how it had been, carefully replacing the fallen petals. I had time to take one step away from the table before—
The door crashed open and Grigory stood there, glaring at me. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing!”
Grigory marched across the room and grabbed me by the upper arms. I felt my insides turn to water. “Stop playing games!” he snapped.
I’d been right: somehow, he knew I was an imposter. I screwed my eyes closed in fear. He was going to tell Konstantin and then the FBI would find my body floating in the harbor—
“Three weeks!” he snapped. “You call him, but not me. And then downstairs, you make me watch the two of you....”
My eyes flew open. What?!
He grabbed my face in both hands. “God, I’ve missed you.”
And then his lips were on mine.
17
Hailey
I WAS SO SHOCKED, I didn’t try to struggle. I just stood there, my face tilted up to him, his thumbs rubbing gently along my cheekbones as he kissed me hard and deep.
Christina was having an affair with him! It exploded in my brain like a firework, lighting up everything else. That’s why he’d been glaring at me, ever since I arrived. He thought I’d been ignoring him.
I was coming to my senses now, but I didn’t dare stop the kiss because I had no idea what I was going to say to him when it ended. Now that I was over the shock, I wanted to strangle Christina. I’d known she was evil, but what sort of psycho bitch sleeps with a notorious crime boss... and then cheats on him, right under his nose? Konstantin would kill both of them, if he found out. And now I’d inherited the problem. He could walk through the door right now and catch us kissing and—
I broke the kiss and stood there panting and wide-eyed. “We can’t! It’s too dangerous!”
He put his hands on my waist. “You started this!” he growled.
I stared at him, incredulous. Christina had only been with Konstantin for four months and she’d already seduced another guy? It made me furious... and weirdly, it wasn’t just because I was going to have to deal with it. It felt wrong. Unfair on Konstantin.
God, was I starting to get protective of him?
I put a hand on Grigory’s chest and pushed him back, trying to ignore how hard his pecs were under his shirt. He was good looking, if you went for slightly older guys. But I had to try to cool this down...without making him suspicious. “It’s too risky, with me just back,” I told him. “Give me time.”
I walked him slowly back across the room, all the way to the door. And despite his size and his frustration, he let me do it. I thought back to the kiss: he’d been desperate, but... tender.
This was about more than just sex. He was in love with Christina.
I stared at him, amazed. But it was true: the way his eyes kept going to my lips, the way he alternated between glaring in frustration and looking totally helpless. This big, tough, older guy, the one I’d been so intimidated by downstairs... he was as lovesick as a teenager.
And I knew in my gut that Christina hadn’t loved him in return.
She’d just strung him along, using him for sex, wrapping him around her little finger. And now I’d inherited that power. I’d never had that before, never had a man crazy for me. It made me awed...and humbled. However risky this was, I had to let the poor guy down gently. I couldn’t just break his heart.
“Just be patient,” I whispered, as I guided him out of the room. “We’ll be together soon.”
Before I could stop him, he lunged forward and kissed me sweet and quick on the lips. Then I managed to get the door shut and leaned back against it, sighing in relief. But as I gazed around the room, the relief didn’t last long. I’d had no idea about Christina and Grigory. What else didn’t she tell me?
All I wanted to do was to stay in the bedroom, where I couldn’t run into anyone else and blow my cover. But I had a job to do and I wasn’t going to get evidence on Konstantin here.
I felt ridiculous creeping around the house in a fancy dress so I changed. Most of Christina’s skirts were more like belts, but I managed to find a slate gray pencil skirt that actually came down almost to my knees, although the soft, stretchy fabric did hug my ass and hips a lot. And after a lot of digging, I managed to find a sweater that didn’t have a plunging neckline, a beautiful angora wool turtleneck in rust red.
I took some time to touch up my make-up: Christina always looked perfect and I had to maintain that, even though it took me twice as long as it probably took her. Then I crept slowly downstairs.
I thought Konstantin would be down on the first floor, but by homing in on the deep rumble of his voice, I finally found him on the second, in a room whose door was ajar. I pushed it quietly open….
Everything about Konstantin’s study was old-fashioned. He sat in a big, high-backed, swivel chair, the green leather faded until it was the color of money. The desk looked like something Lincoln might have sat behind, the mahogany so dark with years of polish, it was almost black. In one corner of the room was a black-painted safe the size of a refrigerator, like something that would have held the payroll in the Old West. Konstantin hadn’t seen me yet. He was leaning forward, his elbows on the desk, one hand holding a phone and the other cradling his head. “Da,” he said, nodding. “Da svidania.” Goodbye. He ended the call and sighed, then rubbed the back of his neck with both hands. Only then did he open his eyes. But when he saw me, he didn’t look pleased. He looked shocked.
I pushed on with the plan: I’d comfort him, just like Christina would have, and let him vent all his troubles to me. I started across the room, trying to swing my hips like she did. “What’s the matter?” I asked. “Is Ralavich really in New York?”
But he just stared at me as if I’d gone crazy and then gave me a quick, frustrated shake of his head. Reminding me of some rule they’d established long ago.
I froze. Something was horribly wrong. This whole plan relied on the assumption that all criminals confide in their girlfriends. But what if Konstantin was the exception?
I stared into those cold gray eyes and I knew I was right. It wasn’t just that he didn’t love Christina, she wasn’t even his confidante. He was so ruthless, he didn’t share a damn thing with her.
“Sorry,” I muttered, and backed out of the room. Just as I left, I thought I caught something else in his face...and then I pulled the heavy door closed and stood there staring at my hazy reflection in the polished surface. My mission had just become a thousand times harder...and more dangerous. But there was something else.
It bothered me that he wouldn’t share his secrets with me. Even though I was living proof that his secrecy was right, that he should be paranoid...it bothered me. Because I wanted to help him. Sitting at his desk, his head in his hands, he’d looked so alone. And then there was what I’d glimpsed on his face, just as I’d left. He’d been angry but...regretful. As if it was himself he was angry at, not me. As if he wanted to share everything with me but couldn’t.
I pushed the thought away. He’s the enemy! And if he wouldn’t share stuff with me, I’d just have to get the evidence some other way.
I went back to the stairs and carried on down to the first floor. I found a massive ballroom at the back of the house, which must be where Konstantin held his famed parties. There were several lounges, the smallest of which seemed to be permanently set up for poker, a gym and a sauna: I’d heard about how Russians liked their saunas.
I passed through a set of double doors and the whole mood of the house seemed to change. The furnishings were less lavish and more practical, and where the rest of the house felt quiet and echoey, this part was a hive of activity. I realized I’d strayed into the part that I wasn’t supposed to see: the staff area. I saw women wheeling laundry carts around and others carrying trays of food. There was a huge pantry and an even bigger kitchen, where a man in a chef’s hat seemed to be briefing the cooks for the evening meal. When he saw me, he jumped to his feet. “Miss Rogan! Can I get you something to eat?”
He was smiling and seemed friendly enough. But he’d gone pale and his smile was too wide, too forced. Does Konstantin keep them all living in fear?
I shook my head. “No. Sorry. I’ll leave you in peace.”
I passed through a hallway lined with closely-spaced doors. A few were ajar and I could see people lounging on beds, reading or listening to music, like a college dorm. This is where the staff live. God, what must all this cost?
At that moment, a pretty blonde in a maid’s uniform who couldn’t have been more than twenty rounded a corner and saw me. Her face went snow white. “Miss Rogan! Did you ring? I’m sorry! I didn’t hear! What do you need?” She literally ran the rest of the distance to where I stood. “I’m sorry!” she said again.
She was shaking. She was actually shaking.
The Double Page 8
