Hers to Tame

by Rhenna Morgan

  “Just wait,” Kir said to Emerson. “When you turn twenty-one, all the men will take you out, and you don’t have to go home at all if you don’t want to.”

  Evette might have been a foot shorter than Kir, but her playful sass was giant-sized, and everyone loved her for it. “Shut your mouth, Kir Vasilek. It’s bad enough all the ideas he gets from you and your guys. He doesn’t need a thirteen-year head start planning all the trouble he’ll get into when he’s legal.”

  Kir pressed his hand to his overly stuffed stomach and gave her a mock bow. “Of course, madám.”

  She snorted and waved him off. “God save me from all the testosterone.”

  Sergei chuckled and pulled her tight against him. “Say the word, liubimaja, and we’ll start working on evening out the scales with a baby girl.”

  To that, Evette merely rolled her eyes, but also grinned in a way that said she didn’t mind practicing for such an outcome in the least.

  “Give me forty-five minutes to drop them off and I’ll circle back,” Sergei said to Kir and Roman.

  Kir eased back into his seat, the fit of his suit pants more uncomfortable than he cared to admit. “Take your time. I need vodka and a rest before more celebration can begin.”

  “Spoken like an old man,” Roman said, taking a sip of his own Stoli. “You sure you don’t want to call it a night now so you can get a good night’s sleep?”

  Evette giggled and snuggled in closer to Sergei, her head resting naturally against his chest. “Poor Kir. And you’ve got a whole night full of those verbal slingshots to endure.”

  Sergei shook his head, but the fond smile on his face as he turned his wife toward the exit said he loved his woman’s shenanigans.

  Craning herself around long enough for a wave, Evette called out. “You two have fun and be safe.”

  “Happy birthday, Uncle Kir!” Emerson added just as loudly.

  And then they were gone, the happily-ever-after threesome disappearing into the sultry shadows of the bar’s main building.

  “She’s good for him,” Roman murmured. “Grounds him.”

  It wasn’t surprising his old friend had zeroed in on Kir’s thoughts. The two of them had been banging around the more dangerous neighborhoods of St. Petersburg for as long as Kir could remember. Roman had been one of the few people he’d known to stand by him despite his father’s betrayal.

  “Sergei has always been grounded.” Kir stared at the now closed door a moment longer, then turned back to his empty plate. He anchored one ankle over the top of his knee and grabbed his Stoli. “Though, I admit her presence has been a good one.”

  “Hmmff.” Roman matched Kir’s drink with one of his own. “A hard thing for you to admit by the sound of it.”

  Not so much now, but at first he’d been heavily resistant to the idea of Sergei getting close to anyone. At least until he got to know Evette.

  Kir set his tumbler on the table in front of him and ran his finger through the sweat that had formed along the side. “She’s not like most.”

  “You act like anyone with a pussy is not to be trusted.”

  “You act like you’ve met a lot who can be.”

  Rather than answer, Roman kept his silence. A particularly odd reaction considering the two of them had been sparring about the same topic off and on for years.

  Kir looked up from his ruminating and found Roman frowning at someone or something in the crowd behind Kir. Before he could turn and follow his gaze, Roman shifted his attention back to Kir. “Just because your mother was a bad seed doesn’t mean the entire gender is lacking.” He finished off his vodka, clinked the glass back down on the table and changed the topic. “So. How fast do you plan on settling yourself between a woman’s thighs tonight? Or should we just call one of the men and have them drive you to the retirement home early?”

  Kir took the out and let the dig on his mother stay in the past where it belonged. “You’re just jealous you’re too much of a brute to appeal to the ladies.” He raised his drink and offered a mock salute. “Besides, now that Sergei’s settled down, one of us has to pick up the slack and keep the balance.”

  “Is that what you’re doing? Keeping the balance?”

  Kir shrugged, but he’d have given a lot to be free of the confines of his suit. “And enjoying myself.”

  “Interesting.” Roman scanned the crowd again, his gaze sharper than normal. “Looks to me like you’re a man desperate to avoid the truth.”

  Something wasn’t right.

  While he wouldn’t exactly say Roman appeared uneasy, he’d also lost the relaxed demeanor of moments before. “What truth?”

  Roman’s focus settled across the room for the briefest of seconds and his frown disappeared. He zeroed in on Kir. “That maybe Sergei had the right idea about settling down.”

  A scoff ripped up Kir’s throat. “For me? Not a chance. Evette is a rare find. Our pakhan may have gotten lucky, but there’s no way in hell I’d risk what I have today for a woman.”

  Roman cocked his head, and his voice dropped to that of a man edging close to a ticking bomb. “I seem to recall you breaking one of your precious rules for that reporter late last year.”

  Kir studied the crowd around him. Loads of beautiful people out to celebrate the weekend’s arrival with good food, good drink, and good company.

  Cassie McClintock was one of those beautiful people. Tall, short platinum-blonde hair and a lithe body with a megawatt smile that disarmed everyone. She was also funny and alluringly intelligent. The intoxicating mix had thrown him for a loop.

  “I don’t have any rules,” Kir said.

  “You’ve never given a woman your time or attention more than once, but you did for her. Now that I think on it, your eagerness to bed every woman in New Orleans increased shortly after your second round with her. Perhaps she scared you.”

  Okay, maybe he did have rules. Carefully crafted protocols to ensure he never fell prey to the schemes he’d seen so many of the men he’d worked with succumb to. “I’m not interested in relationships. I only contacted her a second time to further our plans with Alfonsi. Not because I wanted anything more.” And never-ending summer would come to Russia before he ever admitted that he’d reached out to her repeatedly and been firmly shut out.

  For the briefest of moments, Roman’s gaze cut to a space just over Kir’s shoulder before it locked back on Kir. He smirked and picked up his glass. “Is that so?” He stood just as Kir sensed someone behind him. Roman said in Russian, “Remember, brother. The worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves.”

  Before he could process or ask what Roman meant, an unmistakable feminine voice sounded behind him. “Kir?”

  He should have stood.

  Should have at least turned around and faced her, but the manners he’d had deeply ingrained since the day he was born couldn’t fight their way free of the shock and foreign panic seizing his muscles.

  Roman gave him a barely perceptible nod, the silent dare behind his gray eyes conveyed loud and clear. He lifted his attention to Cassie and his stern glare shifted to something bordering on approachable. “Miss McClintock. It’s good to see you.” With his empty glass in hand, he motioned to Kir. “Please, take my seat and keep my brother entertained. I need to see about getting another drink.”

  He left without another word.

  Cassie, on the other hand, didn’t budge.

  But she was still there. Kir could feel her. The weight of her stare on his back and the same prickling awareness he’d felt the first night he’d laid eyes on her. He forced his muscles to relax and motioned to Roman’s vacated chair. “By all means, sit. I doubt a conversation with the back of my head would be very gratifying.”

  It took another few hesitant seconds before she moved, the energy pulsing off her like that of a doe face-to-face with a rifle.

  The secon
d she stepped into view he regretted the invitation. Realized he hadn’t braced appropriately for the skirmish that lay ahead, because time had clearly muted his memories. Maybe it was a survival technique of the mind. A way to ease past hurts and allow for his lungs and heart to keep working after she’d cut him off.

  Because she was beautiful.

  Not some cut and paste, unoriginal model-type beautiful, but unique and vibrant. Blue eyes. A pert little button nose that matched her bold personality and full lips that felt like heaven against his own.

  He could still taste her on his tongue.

  Hear the throaty sigh she made whenever he found a sensitive spot on her body.

  She stood in front of Roman’s chair and gripped her tiny purse with both hands in front of her. The coral leather matched her nails and the whimsical flowers printed on her white sundress. Definitely dressed to catch a man’s eyes. “You sure you don’t mind?”

  He cleared his throat and sipped his vodka to chase away his bitterness. “Is there a reason you think I would mind?”

  “Maybe because I was a shit and never returned your phone calls?”

  He chuckled despite himself. “Your directness was always something I appreciated.” He dipped his head toward the chair and set his drink on the table. “Please. Sit.”

  She set her purse on the table and scanned the empty plates and remains of his birthday cake as she sat. “You had more people here when I came in. Were you celebrating something?”

  “My birthday.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize.” She smiled, though it lacked its usual power. “Happy birthday.”

  He nodded in lieu of a thank-you.

  “Were they relatives?”

  “Not by blood, but family nonetheless.”

  Her smile faltered and she ducked her head. “Well, it looked like you were having a good time.”

  Odd. He’d only been with her on two exceptional nights, but he’d never seen her hold herself so rigid. As if she was braced to bolt at a moment’s notice. From someone in his crosshairs, he’d expect such a behavior, but coming from her it was unexpected.

  She’s afraid of you.

  The second the thought whispered through his head, he knew it was true. The question was why. “I followed your stories after we last saw each other. It seems you got a good deal of traction from Alfonsi’s downfall.”

  She peeked at him from beneath her lashes, then lifted her chin. “I got a good deal of traction because you got the ball rolling. I’m not sure I’d have had the same success if it hadn’t been for you.” She hesitated all of a heartbeat, and her lips curved in a soft, but sincere smile. “I never really thanked you for that, but it was very much appreciated.”

  Interesting. A thank-you and fear all rolled into one visit. “Is that why you’re here tonight? To thank me?”

  She shook her head and wrinkled her nose. An adorable gesture that made him wonder what she’d looked like doing it when she was little. “Not exactly. I mean, I am grateful and wanted to tell you so, but...” She clasped her hands tighter in her lap and took in a long, slow breath. “I wanted to apologize, too.”

  “For?”

  The shy hesitancy disappeared in a blink and she cocked one eyebrow high to match the dry humor in her voice. “Really? I ignored at least five voice mails from you. You have to ask what I’m apologizing for?”

  There it was. The spunk and wit he’d so enjoyed for too brief a time rising above everything else. “I would have preferred something less evasive, but a rebuff is hardly something that requires an apology.”

  “It is when the same person calling me did a lot to help me get a leg up.”

  The chatter, music and early weekend energy around him never wavered, but everything inside Kir got eerily still. “I merely assumed you got what you needed from our...acquaintance.”

  A flush crept up her neck and she pursed her mouth like she’d bitten into a sour grape. “I suppose it would look that way. And believe me—you really did help me a lot. Not just with my job, but with my family, too. But no. That’s not why I didn’t call you back.”

  He forced himself to keep his face impassive. To hold himself completely still even though his instinct was to lean forward and demand she get on with her explanation.

  She swallowed so hard it looked like it hurt, but she held his stare. “I didn’t realize who you were.”

  “Who I was?”

  “Who you work for.” She circled her hand in front of her as if that might hurry the words out of her head. “What you do. For a living, I mean.”

  She’s afraid of you.

  Why the thought hurt so much more the second time around he couldn’t say, but he also couldn’t blame her.

  “I started digging into the details you’d given me,” she said, “then one of the guys asked me who my source was. I told them your name, and they told me you work for Sergei Petrovyh.” She grimaced as though uncertain how to continue. “It’s intimidating, you know? Frightening. When you called, I didn’t know what to do. Then the follow-up stories started pouring in and my editor took note of my work, so I ran with them. For the first time in my career, my father actually used the word impressed in a sentence about me.” She paused to take breath and studied him. “Looking back, I think I just used all the momentum and activity to ignore the fact that I was an ass, and...well, I’m sorry.”

  She wasn’t lying. Not about a single word. He’d been reading people his whole life, often banking his survival on reading them correctly, and she was absolutely sincere. Not to mention offering him a glimpse into her life for the first time. “I thought you didn’t like to talk about your family.”

  Her head jerked back as though his comment had come out of left field. “Excuse me?”

  “The second night we went out. I asked you about your family and where you were from, and you deftly changed the topic. And yet, twice tonight you’ve mentioned your family. Were you being coy before, or cautious?”

  She huffed out a tired sigh and her shoulders drooped. “Honestly, I don’t normally talk about them. Dealing with them is exhausting and depressing enough as it is. Rehashing the details with anyone else is just salt in the wound.”

  “Exhausting how?”

  She considered him for long seconds, reluctance swimming behind her stormy blue eyes. Whether it was her guilty conscience riding her, or that she’d decided to face her fears, he couldn’t say, but something made her decide to open up. “I’m kind of the black sheep of my family.” She wrinkled her nose again, though without the smile she’d paired it with before, the action was a bit sad. “More like the black, black, black sheep.”

  “How so?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve got a neuroscientist for a mom, a nuclear engineer for a dad and an experimental physicist for a brother. I tried for years to get into the heavier stuff like them, but in the end, my niche was reporting. It doesn’t matter that I finished my BA degree with Honors. Dad just says it’s a degree in bankruptcy.”

  “Not very supportive.”

  She snorted. An adorable sound he’d first heard her make on this very same patio surrounded by her girlfriends. “That’s a polite way of saying he’s a jerk. The truth is, he’s just wound a little tight and doesn’t seem to be capable of comprehending things outside his own world. Life is a textbook to him and, if you don’t line up with the black and white on the page, then he keeps his distance.”

  “Textbooks are often filled with lovely illustrations. Focus on the words only and you miss some of the more beautiful messages.”

  The smile his comment earned him felt like the first rays of sun after a cold and gloomy winter. “I like the sentiment, but I’m afraid it would be utterly lost on my father.” Her gaze shifted to the space just behind Kir’s shoulder and her smile slipped.

  A moment later Roman stalked to Kir’s side, his voi
ce low and calm but his words delivered in their mother tongue. “We have a problem.”

  One thing his brother in arms wasn’t known for was drama, so if he said there was a problem, it had to be a sizable one.

  Either Cassie surmised the urgency through Roman’s tone alone, or his intimidating size and presence jump-started the nerves she’d finally shaken, because she grabbed her purse and shot to her feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you, but I do appreciate the time to talk.”

  Kir stood as well and buttoned his suit jacket.

  Before he could say anything, Cassie stepped out from in front of her chair, aimed an unsteady smile at Roman, then met his stare. “Thank you, again.” For a moment, he thought she’d add something else. Instead, she nodded and offered a nervous wave. “I hope you have a happy birthday.”

  Her stylish heels weren’t as tall as women often wore to the club, but carried her in long strides toward the bar’s interior and the exit beyond.

  “She draws much attention when she moves,” Roman said with a mix of appreciation and humor. “All hips and attitude.”

  It took a minute for what his brother had said to truly sink in, his attention still rooted to the door she’d disappeared through. When it finally did, he faced his friend. “Why are you looking at her hips? I thought you were saving yourself for Mrs. Right.”

  “You said you were not interested, and a woman with grace and courage is very attractive.”

  “You don’t know if she’s courageous.”

  “She talked to you, didn’t she?” Roman waited. Ready for another comeback.

  God knew, Kir wanted to give him one. His daily banter with Roman was one of the many joys of his life, but it was damned hard to generate a retort when he could only agree with his friend’s analysis.

  Roman smirked, clapped Kir on the shoulder and turned him toward the door. “Come. Mikey’s waiting.” The seriousness in his tone crept back into place. “It’s good you got a few good surprises tonight, because you’re not going to like the next one.”