Hers to Tame

by Rhenna Morgan

  He huffed out an awkward chuckle and clasped his hands together. “That was my reaction, too, but the allegation is a pretty serious one, and one of the higher-ups insisted it was a legitimate claim we needed to address.”

  “Address how?”

  “Well, that all depends. I told my boss the odds of it being true were slim, but then I remembered the men in the fancy car who’ve been picking you up lately. When I talked to one of your video guys, they said they’d spotted men following your crew while you’re working, too. So, I thought it best I follow up immediately.”

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Her heart took off at a sprint, and a cold sweat broke out along the back of her neck. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but where did this tip come from?”

  “One of the execs. They were at some big fund-raiser last night. The Midsummer Masquerade.”

  “And you’re calling into question my ethics on a casual comment?”

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t casual. It was quite pointed. The person they spoke to said you’re presently involved in a relationship with a man by the name of Kir Vasilek and that this Vasilek person works for Sergei Petrovyh—who’s rumored to be tied to Stephen Alfonsi’s disappearance. A fact you well know since you’ve done a good number of stories on Alfonsi in the past eight months.”

  “Every single one of those stories were not only solid, but corroborated by a number of witnesses.”

  His expression shifted, sadness settling behind his soft brown eyes. “That isn’t what I asked, Cassie. Are you, or aren’t you, romantically involved with a man who’s allegedly involved in a mafia organization?”

  The question came out of her boss’s mouth, but it registered in her head as though her father had voiced it.

  She’d known it would come to this. Had kept her distance from Kir as soon as she’d learned about him for a very pragmatic reason.

  And yet, she couldn’t find it in her to deny him. Couldn’t see past the smiles he’d given her. The passion and the connection that came with being with him, or the happiness that had her all but floating for the last four days.

  Four days, Cassie. Are you really willing to trade your career on the whim of four days?

  No, that was her mother talking. Not her own feelings or good sense. She didn’t have to make decisions based on what her parents thought. Or what Kir thought. Only what felt right to her.

  She moistened her lips and tried to steady her voice. “The last time I checked, suspected doesn’t mean guilty. You yourself just used the term rumored.”

  “This isn’t a courtroom Cassie. It’s a news station. Even if your previous stories were corroborated, there’s no way you can assure they were objective. Let alone maintain that objectivity going forward. And if it got out that one of our reporters was involved in a relationship with a man suspected of being part of a mafia organization, we’d lose all credibility.” He paused long enough to draw in a long breath. “Now, please answer the question.”

  A part of her wanted to deny it. To cling to what she knew. What she’d fought so hard for, even if it wasn’t the real dream she’d wanted for herself.

  But that was the old her. The frightened part of her trying to gain approval from people who simply couldn’t understand who she was. “The answer is yes. I’m in a relationship with Kir Vasilek. I’d only just met him when I first aired the stories about Alfonsi and didn’t begin a relationship with him until earlier this month, but I can absolutely say that neither Kir, nor Sergei Petrovyh, deserve the title of mafiya.”

  Her boss must’ve caught the nuance in using the Russian form of the word versus the more traditionally used mafia, because his expression turned to one of defeat. “You and I both know it doesn’t work that way. Perception is reality, and your reality will have a negative impact on this station.” He paused long enough to sigh, then added, “I’m sorry, but this is a conflict of interest, pure and simple.”

  “But I’m scheduled to anchor today.”

  He shook his head. “Not anymore you’re not. I called Lizbet in to back you up just in case. I told her to be prepared to step in after we talked.” He rubbed his hands awkwardly back and forth, a nervous gesture either fueled by the difficult situation he’d been put in, or the fact that he’d waded into uncomfortable territory with the girlfriend of a mobster. “I’m sorry, Cassie, but you have to go.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dangerous men with zero conscience. Situations where Kir and those with him had been grossly outnumbered. Guns, knives and a good number of other weapons intended for his demise. Kir had faced them all and then some since the day he’d last seen his mother, but not one of them left him feeling as powerless as the last half hour. He’d been far east of the city dealing with construction crew issues when Sam had called and told him that Cassie had been fired, but couldn’t offer any other details. Cassie hadn’t answered her phone. Neither had Evette. If Sergei hadn’t answered his and assured him Evette and Cassie’s aunt were inside the carriage house with her, Kir would have likely blown well past the speed limit and had a string of policemen on his ass with sirens blazing the whole way home.

  He pulled into the drive more aggressively than was wise and found Sergei and Roman milling just outside the carriage house door. Sam and Patrick were there as well. All four eyed him as though he were an unpredictable threat.

  The strikes of his Italian dress shoes against the concrete were louder than his voice. “How is she?”

  “Past tears and on to fury.” Roman glanced through the four-square windows that topped the front door. “Most of it aimed at the television.”

  “She has a competitor at work. Lizbet Montlake.” He looked to Sam and Patrick. “Is she the one behind this?”

  Patrick shook his head, but it was Sam who spoke. “She didn’t give us any details. Only asked us to take her home and tried not to cry while we drove.”

  “It was us,” Sergei said. “Evette couldn’t tell me much by way of text, but someone told an executive that she was intimate with you. And, by way of that relationship, was using station resources to further mafiya interests. Namely, mine.”

  His fault.

  Perhaps nothing he’d done directly beyond being who he was, but his fault all the same. At least that was the way Cassie probably saw it. “I need to talk to her.”

  Sergei cocked an eyebrow. “By that, I take it you’re asking me to risk life and limb to extract my bride?”

  “And Cassie’s aunt.”

  The smile on Sergei’s face was slight, but also held deep understanding. “You ask much, moy brat, but I will try.”

  Roman cast them a sidelong look that said he thought they were both crazy and jerked his head toward his men gathered outside the main house. “Good luck. I’ll be with them.”

  Sergei chuckled and reached for the doorknob. “Enjoy it, brother. One day you’ll have your own reckoning and escape won’t be so simple.”

  Inside, Cassie sat dead-center of the flannel sofa, her stare locked on the television. She’d changed from the professional attire she’d left in this morning to a simple tank, the loose cotton pants she preferred when watching TV, and bare feet. Her lips were pressed so tightly together, Kir had no doubt her jaws would ache tomorrow, and her hands were clenched between her knees. She glanced at Sergei. Then Kir. Then went right back to glaring at the screen.

  Standing behind the sofa, Evette grimaced and aimed a silent plea toward Sergei.

  Aunt Frieda, sitting to Cassie’s left, patted her niece’s leg. “Baby, it’s not gonna help you any to sit there and watch her. You said yourself, you didn’t think she had anything to do with this.”

  “Perhaps,” Kir said, wading into the tension-riddled room, “another option would be for me to have some time with Cassie so that I can understand, in full, what’s happened.”

 
Cassie let out a harsh exhale, snatched the remote off the coffee table and punched the off button with unnecessary roughness. “Nothing I shouldn’t have expected to happen.” She tossed the remote back to its place, the harsh clatter against the wood overloud in the room’s quiet. She looked to Frieda then Evette. “It’s okay. You can go. I’m not going to do anything stupid. Except maybe eat all that ice cream Evette brought me in one sitting.”

  Proving his calm under pressure, Sergei rebutted as if the situation at large was no major event at all. “My bride tells me it cures all. I’ve since given Olga orders to keep the freezer stocked at all costs.”

  Surprisingly, the humor worked, drawing a slight, yet fatigued smile from Cassie. “Guess that explains how she’s able to get it here so quickly.” Her shoulders sagged and she dipped her head forward, stretching the muscles in the back of her neck. “Really, girls. It’s okay.” She lifted her head and finally met Kir’s stare. “I need to tell him what happened.”

  Frieda offered Kir a look that begged him to show patience.

  Evette volleyed her gaze from Sergei to Cassie as though she wasn’t sure what to do.

  Sergei closed the distance between him and his wife and nudged her off the fence. “Come, love. If you leave our son unattended with Olga and her desserts much longer, you’ll have no prayer of getting him to sleep before midnight.” He let Frieda exit first, guided his wife across the threshold, then shot Kir a sympathetic smile. “We are close if you need us.”

  And then it was quiet. A gaping chasm of tension and churning hopelessness that left the air between them too thick and uncomfortable to breathe.

  He shed himself of his jacket, took the space Frieda had vacated and pulled Cassie into his arms so her torso lay cradled against his chest. “Tell me.”

  She laid it out. From the moment she’d arrived and learned Lizbet had been called in when it should have been her day off, to the final words her boss had uttered before he’d walked her to the bullpen and on to the front door. Every detail came out as though she’d replayed them a hundred times in her head, her voice drained and defeated until it finally cracked at the end. “It was mortifying. Lizbet was right there. She kept her head down the whole time, but everyone else watched every single detail.”

  The tips of her fingers idly pushed and pulled against the fabric of his button-down, an absent, yet vulnerable motion that made him long to feel someone’s waning pulse beneath his fingertips. He covered her hand instead and pressed her palm against his heart. “I am sorry, milaya.”

  Her chuckle was ripe with bitterness. “Why? You didn’t do anything. All someone had to do was speculate about what you do for a living, and the rest took care of itself.”

  That was the part that grated at him. Plucked at his instincts the way a sound out of place in the dead of night warned him to be alert. “This tip—who did it come from?”

  “I don’t know. An executive talked to someone at the Midsummer Masquerade last night and boom, I’m toast.”

  Kir sucked in a deep breath, the possibilities the new development opened up for finding Kevin’s killer rekindling his optimism. “We will find out who they are. Whoever it is may have ties to Kevin’s death and the email you were sent.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” She pushed upright and twisted so one of her knees lay bent on the cushion. “The fact is, Kir, this could have been any random person I’ve pissed off with a story. Either way, I’m out of a job.”

  He sat up and cupped the side of her face. “You know you have nothing to worry about, Cassie. You will be cared for. All of your needs provided for.”

  The last thing he expected was a frown, but that was exactly what he got, paired with an agitated tone. “I don’t want to be taken care of. I want to take care of myself. I want to be able to stand on my own two feet.” She shoved upright and paced toward the kitchen. “Even more than that, I want to clear my reputation. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Kir stood as well and faced her, the frustration and helplessness he’d wrestled with since receiving Sam’s call billowing larger. “Why do you care what they think? Reporting isn’t what you love. You’re good at it, yes, but photography is what you really enjoy. You only kept with the reporting because it gained at least some acknowledgment from your family.”

  She spun and threw her arms out wide as if he’d proven her point. “And now my family is going to find out I’ve been fired because I’m hooked up with a mobster.”

  There it was.

  The blame for today, and the conflict that had stretched long and taunting between them since the first day they’d met. The man who lived by his own law, and the woman who made a living reporting on those who went against the status quo.

  That’s not what’s really bugging you, though, is it?

  He strode to the window with a bird’s-eye view of the main house, wishing he could ignore the question every bit as much as he wanted to ignore Cassie’s situation. Wanted to pretend the ugliest truth of all wasn’t right there dancing square in the middle of his conscience.

  He was glad the conflict was gone. Had nursed a secret hope on the drive home that this would be the beginning of something deeper between them. A chance for them to be true partners where he never had to hide or couch his words in her presence.

  What if he told her how he felt? What if he shared his fears and his past and let her make her decisions from there?

  You are worth another’s love and trust as well, brother. Don’t let your parents’ past rob you of it.

  Sergei was right. Leveling with her was a risk—one he wished his father had taken with his mother and saved them all heartache. But if he didn’t come clean, how was he any better? How could he possibly hope for a different outcome?

  He faced her.

  Whatever she’d been thinking before, the expression on his face wiped the consternation and frustration from hers in a second. “What’s wrong?”

  He nodded to the sofa. “Sit. Please.”

  For a moment, her gaze shuttled between him and the door—not so much as if she sought to escape, but more that she seemed to consider calling for backup. Instead, she padded to the sofa, perched on the edge and gripped her hands in her lap, her concerned gaze locked on him.

  For the life of him, he had no clue how to start. How to put into words all the wrongs and distrust that had formed his life. “My father was bratva. His father was bratva.”

  Comprehension settled behind her beautiful eyes and her expression softened. “If you’re going to tell me about your family, could you do it a little closer?”

  He studied the distance between them, finding the courage to close the gap more difficult than any steps he’d taken to date in his life. Sharing his past was hard enough. Being close enough to feel her pity wasn’t something he was confident he could stomach.

  He forced one foot in front of the other and sat beside her, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him. “I’ve told you that Sergei’s family is different than most. He is ruthless in business, yes, and does not limit his investments or activities to what the government says he can or cannot do, but he does not extort from those who have not chosen his way. He does not blackmail innocents. And he protects his investments and those he considers his with formidable strength. There is no action he will not take if it means keeping those within his world safe.”

  He pulled in a slow stabilizing breath and turned his head to meet her gaze. “But the family I was born into was different. More in line with Alfonsi’s actions and what you see in movies. Perhaps worse.”

  She waited. No signs of revulsion or terror showed on her face. Just patience and openness.

  He sat up and allowed himself to sink into the thick cushions behind him. “My father and mother met and married quickly. He loved her deeply. Adored her. But he never shared with her about the life he’d chosen.”


  “Why not?”

  An ironic huff pushed from his chest. “Because to share what happened within the brotherhood wasn’t done. Many men would not take brides to avoid the conflict.” The memories of his youth rushed up to greet him. The idyllic life he’d thought he’d had until reality came crashing down around him. “He kept her in the dark on everything. Even made up false details about what he did for a living. Came home every night for dinner with a briefcase in hand and talked about business affairs that had nothing to do with how he’d spent his day.”

  “And then she found out.”

  Kir nodded. “A mistress of one of his brothers. A jaded woman who saw nothing of selling drugs or weapons save as a lucrative industry that allowed her man to provide her every luxury.”

  From the look on her face, she already suspected what would follow in his story, but she asked the question anyway. “What happened?”

  “My mother got greedy. Realized the power her husband could leverage and the spoils that could become hers. She pushed my father. Demanded more and more of him—none of which he would deny her.”

  He thought of her twirling in the fur his father had given her for her birthday. The new house he’d moved them to shortly after. Then he remembered the tightness behind his father’s eyes. The fear in them. “My father was a soldier. And while they do not suffer financially, there is only so much they can make without skimming from their vor.”

  “Oh, shit,” Cassie murmured.

  Kir nodded. “Oh, shit indeed. The government kept close tabs on my father’s organization. They saw my mother’s excesses and my father’s troubles. They cornered my mother and let her know how close her husband was to being found out.”

  He met Cassie’s gaze, all the disgust and anger he’d had to navigate alone as a child rushing up and lodging in his throat. “They used her. Manipulated her fear. Said the best way to save him from certain death was to give them enough evidence against him to warrant an arrest so that he would be safe. Said that the alternative would be for her to be implicated as well and suffer similar consequences.”