by Bella Rose
“Excuse me?” Dimitri demanded in Russian. “What has gone to shit?”
“I want the books for every single branch of our operations in my office tomorrow. Tell the accountant I want him here overtime. You two will stay with him and make sure every fucking shipping manifest and income statement matches. Got it?”
“What the fuck?” Kirill snarled, leaping to his feet. “That’s not our damn job!”
“You don’t want to do that?” Sasha slapped his hands flat on the tabletop and glared at both men. “Then go find Grigori Sokolov’s killer. The fucker’s murder is screwing with my alliance. The council is getting restless, and I need answers. Now!”
That was a bit of an exaggeration, but eventually Sokolov would go to the council, and if Sasha’s men had knowledge of what had happened to Grigori, then Sasha would personally pay the price. No way would he go down for these two assholes. Not when they were so quick to turn on him and Maria.
***
Maria stared at the desktop. Sasha was either a total slob, or someone else had been in here pawing through his files. Either way, on top of the pile were shipping manifests related to international cargo coming from Russia. She recognized words like vodka and furs. Her father’s organization imported them, as well. Of course, they were also more or less code words for things like RPGs and AK-47s. After all, what was a bottle of vodka without a side order of missile launchers?
She spotted a sticky note half buried beneath a pile of papers. She pulled it out. The name “Grigori Sokolov” was scribbled across the yellow note in spidery handwriting, a question mark beside it.
Maria sank down into the leather executive chair. She looked at the note and wondered what it meant. Nothing here showed any hint of Grigori in connection with the cases of liquor, guns, or furs. Nothing suggested an interrogation or a murder—or the disposal of her cousin’s body.
A shiver made her press her palms to her cheeks. Was she sleeping beside a man who had ordered the murder of her cousin? The Tarasovs and the Sokolovs were supposed to be allies now. Was Grigori just a contact within the Sokolov organization? And if so, why had Sasha’s men killed him?
She looked at the manifests again, seeking any clue, and found a local address, a warehouse down near the harbor. She bit her lip, wondering if she’d gone too far already. It was one thing to snoop around what was technically her own house. Searching Sasha’s office could get her killed, depending on who found her. It was another thing entirely to leave the safety of the Tarasov compound and go running off across the city chasing down hunches and suspicions.
Snatching up a pen, she scribbled the address on a fresh sticky note, putting the one bearing her cousin’s name back where she’d found it. She owed it to her Sokolov family to find out what was really going on. If it turned out that Sasha was lying to her, she would have to face facts and accept that their marriage wasn’t what she needed it to be—or even what the council had intended.
The unexpected prickle of tears made her take a deep shuddering breath. Sometimes at night now she was almost glad to hear Sasha slip into her bedroom. He often did, in the dark hours when the house was still as death. They would lie together and whisper about silly things. Sure, they had sex, and yet their conversations were far more intimate. She did not want to believe that he was a monster. She did not want to believe that the man she was beginning to fall for was a lie.
Chapter Eleven
Sasha stared at his bedroom door and willed himself to turn around. It didn’t work. Despite all the reasons to stay away from Maria, he could not make himself do it.
He put his palms flat on the cool wood surface of the door. Closing his eyes, he searched for a shred of logic. Logic. Ha! What sort of fool would he be if he refused to face facts? He was starting to like his wife. It was more than just a physical attraction. It was more than just the desire to possess her body. It was more than fucking. Sasha wanted to just be with her.
“Fool!” he muttered.
Pushing away from the door, he forced himself to take a seat in the overstuffed chair near the fireplace. That did nothing but give him time to ruminate on the things Dimitri and Kirill had said behind his back.
He pulled out his phone and then put it back in his hip pocket once again. Then he pulled it out and quickly dialed Dimitri’s number. There was no answer. He tried Kirill next. There was still no answer. And finally because his suspicions, curiosity, and everything else was driving him crazy, he sent off the most unlikely text ever: requesting a meeting with Emil Sokolov.
He rose, and halfway across the room, he heard a knock at the door. No doubt it was Dimitri or Kirill trying to make amends for being an ass. “What do you want?”
“I just wanted to talk.” He was shocked to hear Maria’s soft voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you, but you never made it home for dinner. I haven’t seen you at all today.”
Just a few words uttered through a door and he felt like shit. This was bad. This was not the behavior of a man who was prepared to stash his wife in a penthouse somewhere, sire some children, and then forget about her. This was the behavior of a man who was falling for a woman. Impossible.
“Come in then.” He kept his tone clipped. The door opened, and Maria stepped into the bedroom with obvious hesitation. Sasha narrowed his gaze at her. “But you need to make it quick because I need to go out.”
“Out?” Her face fell.
Damned if that didn’t make him feel bad. He bit his tongue. There was no way in hell he was going to stand here and justify his actions. Not to a woman. Not even his wife. “What did you want to talk about?”
“I just—I—oh, never mind.” She turned to leave.
“No. What did you want to say?” He was getting impatient, and yet strangely he also didn’t want her to leave. “It was obviously something if it had you over here banging on my door.”
“I just thought…” She looked very uncomfortable. “Well, the Sokolovs and Tarasovs are allies now, right? Because of the marriage?”
“More because the council decreed it, but yes.” Why did she care? What did it matter about the status of her father’s organization in relation to his? Or had she heard something around the house that he was not privy to? “Why?” he demanded.
“Oh, I was just wondering, you know.” She looked very uncomfortable. “Because of how everyone here thinks of me as the outsider. I just thought that if they knew our families were allies now that things might change.”
It would take an act of God for things to change, but there was no point in telling the poor girl that sad fact. She had enough on her plate. He pursed his lips and wondered what to say next. Then he remembered that he needed her out of the bedroom so he could leave. Right. “Was that all?”
Her expression showed that she was stung by his dismissiveness. He didn’t care. Except he did, dammit. She sighed. “I suppose. Have a nice time tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She exited his bedroom with all the dignity of a princess. He could not help but watch her delectable backside as she swung her hips around a chair. How could the woman be so slim and yet so damn sexy? She didn’t have a whole lot of big curves, but he loved the way her torso was so slender and well muscled. Her belly was taut. He hips were a soft flare. And she had the prettiest pussy of any woman he’d ever been with. Damn.
“What?”
“Huh?” He looked up, feeling like a teenager caught peeping into the girls’ locker room. She’d stopped in the doorway and looked back. He cleared his throat and waved her on out of the bedroom. “Sorry. I was just lost in thought.”
“Uh huh.” She raised an eyebrow.
There was a knowing smile on her face that would not have been there ten days ago. She’d come into her own. Or perhaps she was coming into her own. It was enticing and erotic, and he really wanted to grab her right now and bend her over the end of his bed. He would slap that beautiful ass right before he pushed his cock into her hot channel and fucked her until the
y were both satisfied.
“Good night, Sasha,” she called over her shoulder.
He cleared his throat, feeling pissed off and completely uncertain of why. “Good night, Maria.”
He could not follow her. That would have sent a completely wrong message. This was the best thing he could do. He needed to leave. Going to this meeting with Sokolov was not just a distraction, it was good business.
Maria thought she might lose her temper and shout at Sasha. She ground her teeth together and stalked back to her suite across the hall. So he was “going out” was he? Apparently he had had enough of his new bride. He needed something else to keep him interested. She’d always been told that men had short attention spans, but ten days? Really?
It was possible he was going out on business. The Bratva operated at all hours, after all. Her father would often be out late at night. But she discarded the idea almost immediately. She’d seen the look on his face as she left the room—the hungry, wanting look he wore when he wanted sex. And if he’d wanted sex with her, well, here she was. No need to go anywhere. He’d been her one ally in this house of enemies and ill will, and now he was abandoning her, too.
She slammed the door behind her and marched over to the fireplace. Picking up the poker, she stabbed at the logs. Her actions sent up sparks that felt strangely satisfying. She was so pissed off right now that she could burn down the whole house and not care one bit. She’d had just about enough of these snooty Tarasovs.
Maria marched a circle in her room. She picked up some clothing with every intention of hanging it up and then threw it down. That was why she had maids. Right? But they did nothing in her quarters. They didn’t lift a finger around the house unless Sasha told them to. That was going to stop. Now.
Maria belted her satin robe around her waist and shoved her feet into her embroidered slippers. Feeling a self-righteous wave of anger, she pushed her bedroom door open and headed for the third floor. The maids hung out there, and they didn’t bother to hide it. They were there at all hours, even the ones who didn’t live in. There was drinking and gambling and plenty of food filched from the kitchen. It was about time for Maria to put her house in order.
A door led from the second floor to the stairs that went up to the third floor. Maria flung it open and listened. Sure enough, there was a riot of giggling and talking in Russian going on up there. She just hoped that her limited Russian vocabulary was going to be enough.
Determination made her brave. She marched up those steps and paused at the top. The room up here was long with slanted ceilings that showed they were directly beneath the roof of the house. It was warm and cozy. Maria recognized a beef roast on the table. This had been intended for Sasha’s dinner, which he hadn’t come home for. How thoughtful of the maids and the cook to make sure the leftovers didn’t go to waste. She could even see containers sitting around the table, suggesting they had plans to take the food home to their families. Did Sasha know this was going on? It was theft. In her father’s household, they would have been whipped and dismissed!
“Hello.” Maria kept her tone sweet as she approached the far end of the room where four women sat around a round table with a bottle of vodka between them.
They looked at her as though she were a bug on the sidewalk. Great. And Maria even recognized the former housekeeper Tatiyana. Perfect. So she was sneaking over here to visit her friends after hours. That was awfully friendly of everyone.
“What are you doing here?” Oksana the cook didn’t even pretend to be respectful. She sneered the words and curled her lip with obvious disdain. “Don’t you have a couch to lie on or something?”
Olga looked around at the others before she offered her insult. “Don’t you have a master to service?”
“You’re fired.” The words were out before Maria could have stopped them had she wanted to. “Get your things and get out. And the rest of you will stop stealing food from my kitchen. Do you understand?” Maria turned and lifted her chin. She set her jaw and stared at Tatiyana. “And if you no longer work for me, you can visit your friends on their own time in their own homes. You’re not welcome here. Understand?”
Tatiyana stood up so fast her chair tipped over backwards. “Oh, I understand perfectly. You think you’re the lady of this house, but you are not. Even when Sasha let me go”—she used exaggerated air quotes—“he told me that it was only temporary until he got you your own place and put you in it.”
Maria threw that aside for the moment. That didn’t matter. She could not let it matter. Not now, when she was already dealing with this bullshit. Taking a deep breath, she prayed for courage. “Well, I’m not gone yet. So that means I am the lady of the house. And as the lady, I’m telling you to get your freeloading backside out of my house. Do you understand? You are not welcome here.”
Tatiyana tossed her head like a queen and began walking toward the doorway that led to the back stairs. “As you wish little girl. But you’d better watch yourself. Sasha Tarasov isn’t a monogamous man. You’ll lose his interest, and then you’ll be the one on the curb and I’ll be right back here running the mansion.”
Oh, how Maria wanted to tell Tatiyana that it wasn’t true! She wanted so badly to yell in the other woman’s face, but she could not. Not yet and maybe never. Or eventually she was going to snap and tackle Tatiyana like some complete lunatic.
“You think you fired me,” Olga said dismissively. She made a point of walking over to the meal and picking up several containers full of food. “But I’ll be here in the morning just like every other day. You’ll be standing there wondering why Sasha doesn’t give a shit about your opinions. But I can tell you that he doesn’t.”
Maria swallowed back the bile that threatened to overtake her. Were they telling the truth? Did Sasha really disregard her feelings and thoughts that thoroughly? Perhaps it was all a hoax. Or maybe her marriage was the hoax. How could she even know? Sasha was out right now with another woman. He was probably making love to her. She would be curvy and beautiful with dark hair and lots of experience. She would please him in ways that Maria never could.
“See you tomorrow,” Olga said nastily as she exited after Tatiyana.
Oksana and Ana just watched to see what Maria was going to do. She could not stand here and have a face off. Not when she suddenly felt young and silly. So even knowing that they were going to laugh at her when she was gone, she went back downstairs to her bedroom to stew in silence.
Chapter Twelve
Meeting Emil Sokolov at his club downtown was probably one of the stupidest things Sasha had ever done. The place was deep in Sokolov territory. It was smoky and dark, with a lounge singer wailing in Russian and wall-to-wall people ordering drinks, eating dinner, and dancing with their lovers.
The place was obviously bringing in money. Sasha’s practiced eye noticed how much liquor the bartenders were selling. He took note of the number of tables filled and how many servers were ducking and dodging their way through the room. Sasha had a few restaurants and a few bars, but nothing quite like this.
“Welcome!” Emil waved Sasha back to a table at the very edge of the all the action. It had a view of the entire room and every exit. “Have a seat. Do you want a drink? Denis, bring the man a drink.”
“Just vodka,” Sasha told the waiter who had appeared.
The man was a bit heavily built to be an ordinary waiter. Sasha figured that Denis was capable of a little more than carrying a tray. No matter. Sasha was deep in enemy—or rather ally—territory. He was on his own and perfectly comfortable handling himself no matter the situation.
“I was surprised to get your message,” Emil said as Sasha slid into the opposite side of the round booth. “You did not seem as though you wanted to be in contact with me the other day.”
“Perhaps I did not.” Sasha tried to find a good segue and could not. “But this thing with Grigori Sokolov bothers me. I did not sanction any sort of action against him or any action regarding him at all. Yet I find hi
s name on the lips of my men, and I cannot help but wonder if Grigori was somehow involved with my men.”
Emil lit a cigarette and took a long drag. He blew out a thick cloud of smoke, sending it toward the ceiling. “Grigori was a very independent man,” Emil admitted. “I must admit that when he went missing, we initially thought he had just gone to ground or run off for a few days. He frequently got himself into trouble.”
“So you believe he got himself into trouble with a Sokolov,” Sasha mused. Denis brought his vodka and a glass. Sasha poured himself a shot and threw it back. “Do you have any notion what this might have been about?”
“Grigori had been working on something down at the harbor. He’d told someone in our organization that he was set up to earn a pretty penny on the side for importing something.”
Griori Sokolov had been informing on Sokolov business to Dimitri and Kirill—that much Sasha had approved. He wanted to know just how much Emil knew before he exposed unnecessary information.
“A few of my men were meeting with an informant,” Sasha said slowly. He poured another drink. “It was regarding goods at the harbor. Do you think that might have been your Grigori?”
“I think it highly likely.” Emil snorted. “Grigori would get information for anyone. Even Tarasov men before the agreement from the council was in place.”
“That nonsense with the council is almost unbearable in its way,” Sasha muttered. He sat back in his seat and watched the singer drape herself over the black baby grand piano. She had great curves. Her breasts were full and her hips were lush. Why wasn’t he even the least bit attracted?
“You’re staring at my lounge singer,” Emil observed. “And you a married man.”
“She’s an attractive woman.” Sasha could hear the falseness in his own voice. Great.
Emil turned to stare. “I’ll be damned. You’re falling for my daughter.”
“Why would you think something ridiculous like that?” Sasha scoffed. “Men like me are not made for fidelity. Even you were unfaithful more than once, I have heard.”
