by Roxie Rivera
NIKOLAI II
By Roxie Rivera
NIKOLAI II (Her Russian Protector #6)
Claimed and cherished by Houston's most ruthless mob boss, artist Vivian Kalasnikov embraces her new position as Nikolai's wife and the lonely, dangerous role as queen of Houston's underworld. But Nikolai is keeping secrets from her, and the whispers of a coming street war leave her terrified for the man she so passionately loves—and the tiny life growing inside her.
Nikolai finally has everything he's ever wanted—power, wealth and a family with Vivian, the beautiful sun who lights up his dark life. But as his young wife prepares for her debut on the international art stage, he finds himself drawn into a bloody conflict that threatens the quiet life he's painstakingly built. He can feel the promise of his future happiness slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.
One wrong move, and he'll lose Vivian and his child forever. One wrong move, and he won't see another sunrise.
The sins of their fathers have come back to haunt Vivian and Nikolai. To protect his beloved wife and his heir, he'll do absolutely anything. The brutal gangster who violently conquered the streets of Moscow and Houston is about to be unleashed—and Houston's underworld will never be the same again.
Ivan (Her Russian Protector #1)
Dimitri (Her Russian Protector #2)
Yuri (Her Russian Protector #3)
A Very Russian Christmas (Her Russian Protector #3.5)
Nikolai (Her Russian Protector #4)
Sergei (Her Russian Protector #5)
Sergei, Volume 2 (Her Russian Protector #5.5)
Nikolai II (Her Russian Protector #6)
Kostya (Her Russian Protector #7)
Alexei (Her Russian Protector #8)
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Epilogue
Author's Note
About the Author
Backlist
Copyright
Prologue
April
"Where are we going?" My gaze darted from the windshield to the strong, proud profile of my husband's handsome face. The pale blue glow from the dashboard lights highlighted all the features I loved so much. Unable to help myself, I reached across the short distance between us and trailed my finger along the scar on Nikolai's jaw. My fingertip traced the curving line of his chin and dipped into the shallow cleft there.
"It's a surprise, zolota." He cast a sinfully sexy smile my way, and my core trembled wildly. The realization that this smile was mine and mine alone did crazy things to my heart. With everyone else, he maintained that impenetrable wall. Others were met with a coldness that chilled to the bone with a single, sharp glance.
But not me. Never me. With me, Nikolai was warm and loving because I was his solnyshka and his zolota—his sun and his gold.
"You said you don't like surprises." I tapped his lower lip, and he responded by playfully nipping at my finger and making me giggle.
"I don't, but it's different when it's a surprise for you."
"Why?"
"Because it simply is." He turned his head and kissed my palm before turning his attention to the wet highway that he deftly navigated. Rarely did Nikolai drive us anywhere. For security reasons, he usually preferred to let Kostya, Sergei or Danny handle that rather mundane duty. Tonight was special for some reason. He had even chosen to drive the Continental coupe that he babied so much.
"Did you enjoy the opera?" He grasped my hand and interlaced our fingers.
"I did." That morning he had surprised me with tickets to a performance and instructions that I was to be ready to leave the house by six. After a quick shopping trip with Erin and Bianca, I had popped in to see Holly Phillips at her salon so she could work her magic.
"I'm glad." He lifted my hand and kissed the back of it. "What did you think of dinner? If you didn't enjoy the private dining at the theater, we can visit one of the restaurants in the Theater District the next time. We won't have a problem getting a table."
No, we definitely wouldn't. That was one of the perks to Nikolai owning one of Houston's finest and most popular restaurants. He had contacts at all the hottest places in town. "I enjoyed the dinner and dessert at the theater, but I enjoy trying new places."
"Then I will make different arrangements for our next night out." He rubbed his thumb in a slow circle along the back of my hand.
The idea of having a regular date night with Nikolai filled me with such happiness. Before our rather rushed wedding, we hadn't had a chance to date like a normal couple. A crazed psychopath, an angry drug lord and my fugitive father had complicated things and pushed us into a hastily arranged wedding without a real courtship.
The city was quieter now and the underworld seemed to be in a calm period, but I knew better than to think it would last. Sooner or later, all hell would break loose—and Nikolai would be right in the center of it.
Not wanting to entertain those terrifying thoughts, I jokingly replied, "If I had known you were a patron of the opera and had a box, I might have studied German or Italian instead of Russian and Spanish."
He laughed. "Every year, I hope they'll announce one of Tchaikovsky's operas on the schedule, maybe Iolanta or Eugene Onegin, but every year, it's Wagner or Puccini. Not that I don’t enjoy their operas but…"
"I understand."
As he exited the loop and merged into one lane traffic with heavy construction, his hawk-like gaze skipped to the rear view mirror. Instinctively, I glanced at the passenger side mirror. Though the rain drops made it difficult to see, I spotted the black SUV following us and stiffened. The memories of the blitz attack that had nearly killed him were too fresh.
"Easy," he said and squeezed my hand. "It's Artyom and Danny."
Looking more carefully, I relaxed. It was one of the black Escalades from Nikolai's fleet. "Have they been trailing us all night?"
He glanced at me with amusement twitching his sinful mouth. "What do you think, rybka?"
The pet name brought a smile to my face. "I think you probably had some of your men in the audience."
He nodded. "Kostya enjoys the opera. He brought Boy with him and stuck him in an aisle seat near the rear. Artyom and Danny stayed in the SUV, just in case."
Just in case we needed to make a hasty exit amid a hail of gunfire or worse, I silently finished.
He must have known what I was thinking. "You're safe with me, Vee. No one will ever hurt you again."
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that no one would ever harm us again, but I knew better. If my life had taught me anything, it was that there were no guarantees. "You can't promise me that."
"Solnyshka." He unlaced our fingers and slid his hand to the back of
my neck, cupping me gently but firmly. "You are my wife. You belong to me. I protect what's mine."
It was an outrageously alpha statement, but I understood that was simply Nikolai's way. From him, that was the strongest declaration of love possible. "Do you belong to me?"
"Always," he answered without hesitation. "Forever."
"So how do I protect you?"
He shot me a strange look. "That's not your concern."
"It is," I insisted. "If you take care of me, I'm supposed to take care of you."
"You do take care of me, Vee." He caressed my neck. "In your own way," he added. "In the way that means the most to me."
"I worry about you." We didn't speak of his role as the Russian mob boss of Houston very often. It was a fact that was acknowledged and accepted between us, but it wasn't a topic that we discussed. Even now, I felt uncomfortable bringing it up. "I read the newspapers, and I see what's happening with the cartels in Mexico and I—"
"Vee," he murmured softly. "Don't."
"But—"
"Do you trust me?"
There was no question about that. "Yes."
"Then trust that I will tell you what you need to know," he said. "If I say nothing about my work, that's a good thing."
"I know."
His jaw visibly clenched at my whispered reply. It wasn't a sign of irritation with me. No, he was angry with himself. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Dragging you into this life of mine," he said. "You deserve so much better. If I was less selfish, I would have made sure you ended up with a man like Misha or Viktor or Leonid."
I blinked at the mention of Yuri Novakovsky's fellow billionaire oligarchs who visited Samovar every time their business trips brought them to Houston. "You being selfish and wanting me all for yourself has nothing to do with it. I never would have been happy with those men."
"You don't know that. You never tried."
"I didn't need to try dating men like that. It was you, Kolya. It was always you." Narrowing my eyes at him, I reached over and pinched his leg through the crisp fabric of his trousers. "And why are you trying to convince me I should have run away with one of Yuri's friends? Do you regret marrying me?"
"Never." He hurriedly and firmly reassured me. "You are the best thing that ever happened to me. Marrying you was the proudest moment of my life and the smartest decision I have ever made." He caressed my neck and traced the shell of my ear with his thumb. "Because I love you, I want the best for you. It would have been better for you to marry an obscenely rich businessman who could give you everything you deserve."
I reached up and clasped his hand between both of mine. "You've given me everything I want and more. I don't need things, Nikolai. I only need you."
He eased on the brake as we approached an intersection. The yellow light switched to red and he made a full stop. With his foot on the brake, he surprised me by leaning over, cupping my face between both hands and capturing my mouth in a deeply sensual and possessive kiss. I gripped his arms as he flicked his tongue against the seam of my mouth and silently asked for entrance. A little whimper escaped my throat when the kiss took an erotic turn that left me trembling inside.
Always aware of his surroundings, Nikolai gently ended our kiss seconds before the light turned green. His hand returned to the back of my neck where he tenderly caressed my skin. We drove in silence for a few moments before he finally spoke again.
"I only need you," he echoed my words. "Only you. Everyone else—no one else—matters to me like you do." A happy smile curved his mouth, and his thumb glided along the curve of my neck. "You look so beautiful tonight."
I actually blushed. "Thank you."
Nikolai turned down a street that ran parallel to a rather rundown shopping center. All of the storefronts were closed except for one—a tattoo parlor I recognized as the one his preferred artist owned. He didn't pull into the parking lot but instead navigated down the side street and into the employee lot out back. It was a shadowy space that would have made me nervous had I been alone, but I feared nothing with my husband at my side.
As he parked, I twisted in my seat to face him. "What are we doing here?"
He switched off the engine and unlatched his seatbelt. Leaning across the center console, he flicked off my belt and pushed it away from my shoulder. His fingertips grazed my cheek and jaw before gliding over my lips. Holding my gaze, he asked, "Do you know what today is?"
"Friday." I noticed Danny hurrying from the SUV to take up a position at Nikolai's door. He quickly unfurled an umbrella and waited for his boss to exit the car.
Nikolai chuckled softly. "Yes, but more specifically."
"Um…it's Friday. It's April the…" My voice trailed off as the significance of the date struck me. "Oh."
"Da." He nodded solemnly. "Eleven years tonight." His hand slid down my neck, over the curve of my breast to the flat expanse of my belly. He rubbed a slow, warm circle there, his palm moving over the gunshot scars hidden by the diaphanous amethyst chiffon of my evening gown. "Eleven years since the night I nearly killed you."
The awful, ugly truth hung in the air between us. Flashes of memories I had tried to suppress came roaring back to life right before my eyes. The shame of my involvement in the attempted hit on Nikolai's life made my stomach lurch. I had been an easily tricked child, a little girl so desperate for her father's love that she had agreed to burglarize a house, but that didn't make me any less guilty for what had almost happened that night. Nikolai had fought off my father and escaped with his life before very nearly taking mine.
"We were bound together forever that night. You and me," he said, his hand going still on my abdomen. "I never imagined it would lead us to this life we share, but it has. It was fate that you would become my queen."
My eyes widened at his description. "Your queen?"
"You would prefer koroleva?" he teased.
"Kolya! Be serious!"
"I am being serious." He played with the loose waves of my hair that cascaded around my shoulders. "That’s what they're all calling you. The Night Queen," he clarified. "Because you rule the underworld with me."
"Hardly," I argued. "I'm just your wife. I'm just—"
"You aren't just anything, Vee. Not to me and not to them." He captured my mouth in a lingering kiss. Pulling back, he held my gaze. "Come. It's time for your coronation."
I blinked, and the pieces fell into place. "You've brought me here to see Igla."
He laughed at the nickname the men of his family had given to the Hungarian ex-pat tattoo artist who had spent most of his adult life in Moscow. Igolochkoy was a Russian embroidery style where the threads were punched through the fabric using a sharp needle. "You've been eavesdropping again."
"Your men should be more discreet."
He shot me a look before sliding out of the front seat. Danny handed over the umbrella that shielded Nikolai's tuxedo from the warm drizzle and stepped back to give him some space. My husband walked around the car to open my door. Reaching in, he grasped my hand and guided me out into the night. His palm settled against the small of my back and he gently pressed me toward the rear entrance of the tattoo shop that Arty now manned. The street captain with the shaved head and grass green eyes winked at me as I passed.
Inside the shop, we were greeted by the infamous tattoo artist. The older man sported a thick, long white beard and heavy ink from the top of his neck to the tips of his fingers. No doubt his torso, back and legs were equally as decorated. Nikolai called him by his real name—Tomi—but the artist only nodded before taking us to his private studio at the rear of the shop. It was so quiet in the space that I wondered if he had shut down the business to see us tonight.
With Arty and Danny guarding the door, Nikolai shut it behind us. Clearly at ease in these surroundings, he slipped out of his tuxedo jacket and bowtie, dropping them on Tomi's desk. He accepted the sketch the artist thrust his way and studied it with a smile. Handing it to me, he asked, "What do you
think, Vee?"
I examined the surprisingly feminine and delicate crown Tomi had drawn. The design wasn't very big, but it was incredibly detailed. It was done in the style of a Russian tiara, the type one of the Feodorovna empresses might have worn. Tomi had incorporated Nikolai's pet name for me by using beautiful little sunbursts. There was a pretty crest in the center but it seemed unfinished.
As if reading my mind, the artist handed me a pencil. Addressing me in Russian, he said, "You're the only one I've ever allowed to alter my designs."
Understanding that this was something I should consider an honor, I reverently took the pencil and the drawing to the nearest flat surface. I didn't have to think twice about what would go in the center of the crest. I sketched in my husband's Cyrillic initials. Soon they would mark my skin, forever branding me as his.
When I handed it to Tomi, he actually cracked a small smile. "Good," he said before taking the pencil and cleaning up my addition with harder, cleaner lines.
Nikolai's hands settled on my shoulders. The heat of his chest seeped into my back. His lips brushed my ear. "You don't have to do this. I thought you might like to have one done. You've always been fascinated by them, by what they mean and how they're earned."
Glancing back at him, I asked, "Have I earned this one?"
He pressed a tender kiss to my throat. "You've earned so much more than this. It's the least I can give you. The very least," he whispered before turning my face and claiming my mouth.
"Where will it go?" I tried to ignore the nervous wobbling in the pit of my stomach and focused on the beautiful piece of art that would soon adorn my body.
"Where would you like it to go?"
"You choose. It's your gift to me."
His eyes sparked with a primal flare that made my insides tremble for a reason that had nothing to do with nervousness. I pressed my thighs together as Nikolai walked to Tomi's small desk and grabbed a rubber band from the container on the corner. When he came back to me, Nikolai gathered my hair in his hands and twisted the strands into a high bun that he secured with the rubber band. His lips skimmed the back of my neck. I sucked in a shocked breath when his tongue flicked against my skin.
