by Kresley Cole
“I ran into him on the way in.”
Kovalev looked surprised. “Most young ladies find themselves more starstruck after first meeting him.”
Maybe if I hadn’t already had eyes for Sevastyan.
“Filip’s the son of my distant cousin and best friend, who died recently. The poor boy took it hard. Your being here is just what the lad needs. . . .”
After that, the afternoon passed companionably. Kovalev and I came up with things we had in common: dislike of slapstick comedy, love of animals and heist movies. “They’re usually not accurate, though,” he commented, reminding me that I was talking to a crime boss.
He told me stories about my mother—she’d loved to garden, loved plants; she would’ve been pleased to know I’d grown up on a farm. He challenged me to a game of chess in the morning and promised to teach me about clocks.
When they all struck five, Kovalev said, “As much as I’m enjoying this, I should let you go, so you can have some time to get settled in before the banquet.”
“Oh.” Banquet, schmanquet, I was greedy for more time with my father.
In a confiding tone, he said, “I regret scheduling it, wish we could have a quieter dinner and carry on this conversation.” He was as reluctant for me to leave as I was. “Aleksei could join us.”
A knock sounded. Speak of the devil.
Chapter 13
“Perfect timing, Son,” Kovalev told him. “Will you see Natalie to her rooms?”
“I thought you would want to.”
“No, no, you two go on. I’ll see you tonight, dear.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and it felt natural.
As Sevastyan and I left the study, I couldn’t stop smiling. The Siberian had been right—I hadn’t known what I was talking about; Kovalev was wonderful.
On our way up the grand staircase, Sevastyan finally spoke. “You enjoyed yourself.”
“Just like you said, Paxán is great.” My prejudging of Kovalev had been off the mark to a laughable degree, and I’d been totally wrong about Sevastyan. Maybe it was time to take a hiatus from my manalyzing—which must be geographically limited.
Sevastyan raised his brows. “You call Kovalev a term of affection?”
“He asked me to,” I said defensively.
“And you do, despite his occupation?”
I sighed. “Sniping at me? You’ll have to do better than that. Besides, just as you said before, I understand things better now.” I held his gaze. “And I am so glad you forced me on that plane.” For more than one reason . . .
I thought I saw his eyes growing heated, but he looked away, steering me along an art-lined hall. We must be heading down the other wing.
When we stopped in front of a set of white double doors, he said, “This is your suite.” He opened them to reveal a huge sitting room, just as lavish as Paxán’s office, but more feminine.
The décor was definitely intended for a chick. A really rich Russian chick. “It’s so lovely. But, um, where do I sleep?”
With an exhalation, he started across the spacious area, leaving me to follow. We passed an adjoining study with a snazzy new Mac, then a media room with a wall-stretcher TV, before we reached the bedroom.
Stepping inside, I muttered, “This—is—the—tits.”
“Pardon?”
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” I twirled in place, taking in the massive four-poster bed, the hand-painted armoire as big as an elevator, the draperies with silk tassels the size of my forearm. Underfoot, oriental rugs warmed more shining marble. Above, intricate carved molding was gilded with gold. Jade green—my favorite—was the accent color.
“Paxán didn’t decorate this for me, did he?”
“Of course. You’re his daughter. He took great pleasure trying to imagine what you would like.”
“And you knew green is my favorite color.”
He inclined his head.
This reminder of his prying into my life didn’t grate as much as it had before. “At least some good came from your spying, huh?”
Ignoring that, he said, “There are garments for you in the closets.”
“Plural closets?”
“Naturally.”
“Oh. Who picked out the clothes?”
“A stylist. She is on call for you, should you need anything else.”
Near an extravagant display of welcome flowers, I saw a leather folio and several gift boxes. Inside the folio was a selection of credit cards and a list of phone numbers for Kovalev, the estate manager, the stables, my stylist, housekeeping, the kitchen. “Should I wait to open these presents with Paxán?”
With a raised brow, Sevastyan said, “Something tells me there will be more to follow.”
Inside the first box was a smartphone that looked like it’d been transported back from the future. I’d be able to call Jess with my proof of life a week early—and eventually my mom as well. Though what I would tell her about all this, I didn’t yet know.
The other boxes—from stores like Cartier, Harry Winston, Mikimoto, and Buccellati—were all filled with dazzling jewelry: a triple-strand pearl choker, sapphire earrings, an emerald drop fringe necklace with a matching bracelet. That bracelet was so heavy and substantial, I could deflect bullets with it, à la Wonder Woman.
Turning to Sevastyan, I joked, “There must be a million dollars’ worth of jewelry here.”
When he held up his palms in a what’re-you-gonna-do? gesture, I cried, “Oh, my God. There is!” I inhaled a shaky breath. This situation was too wild—and overwhelming. I now lived in a palace. I truly was not going back to school tomorrow; instead I’d be playing chess with my billionaire father.
This was my “new life” for the “foreseeable future.”
I crossed to a set of balcony doors, opening them for fresh air. I drank in the sight as a mist began to fall over manicured gardens and landscaping lights came to life all across the property.
When Sevastyan joined me at the balcony rail, that feeling of connection swept me up again. But he was all coolness toward me.
“What’s that building?” I asked him, indicating a two-story manor catty-corner to this wing. As with the lake folly, its colors and architecture complemented this palace. There was a sleek black Mercedes in the drive, much like the one he’d rented in Lincoln.
“My home,” he said shortly.
“You live on the property?”
“Da. Though I have an apartment in Moscow,” he said in a pointed tone, no doubt referring to my comment about searching his place—and doing other things. Such as watching him masturbate.
I swallowed, peering up at him, filled with questions about the man. What was he thinking at this moment? How’d he get that sexy scar down his lips? Who’d broken his nose?
Had anyone ever kissed that slightly askew bridge for him? “You must have missed this place while slumming in Lincoln.”
Shrug. “I return downstairs now.”
I followed him back inside. “What do you need to talk to Paxán about so urgently?”
Over his shoulder, he said, “I do have private concerns with him, Natalie.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re going to tell him about us, aren’t you?”
He swung his head around at me. “There is no us,” he said with such vehemence that I almost flinched.
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m going to admit that I behaved inappropriately with you. I owe him that.”
I had a great feeling about Kovalev, but the truth was that I didn’t know him well. What type of punishment would an infraction like this bring? “How mad will he be?” I couldn’t picture Kovalev losing his cool, but then I also couldn’t picture him blackmailing politicians.
“At you? Not at all. As for me, he can’t be more angry than I am at myself.”
Sevastyan was starting to piss me off. I strode up to him. “Look, I just got here, and everything is wonderful with Paxán. Why rock the boat when you and I barely did anything? I held off on despoili
ng you. You were relatively safe from my clutches.”
Stony gaze.
“Please, I’m asking you not to make a big deal out of something so trivial.”
“Trivial?” He closed the slight distance between us until we stood toe-to-toe. “Maybe for two experienced adults. But you’re hardly experienced, are you?” His breaths quickened along with mine. Tension sparked the air around us. Oh, God, his intoxicating scent hit me just as I recalled his fierce virgin-or-not promise and his admission: What was supposed to sate my appetite has only whetted it.
Chin raised, I bowed up to him until a sheet of paper wouldn’t have fit between us. “Just because I haven’t had sex doesn’t mean I was a nun.”
He cocked his head to the side, gaze flicking over my face, like he was trying to read me and coming up empty. I knew the feeling.
“And if my virginity is such a sticking point with you,” I said, “that’s an easy fix.”
His fists clenched. “You mean with another man?”
That show of jealousy thrilled me, so I reminded him, “You could have done it.” When I’d been wet and ready for him. Curiosity about how he would relieve me of my virginity seized me; I could only imagine what kinds of tricks this man had in his bag. A long exhalation escaped my lips, and I found myself saying, “You still could.”
He took a step back, as if what I had might be catching. “Perhaps I want to tell Paxán so it doesn’t happen again.”
“You’re that certain you don’t want it to?”
“Yes,” he said, but he’d started twirling that thumb ring. Maybe that tell also indicated when he was lying?
“Was I just a job to you, Sevastyan?”
He gazed to the right of me as he answered, “That’s all you can be.”
“Do you wish you’d never been sent to America for me?”
He faced me fully. “Every second of the day,” he said, no longer touching his ring.
Chapter 14
Buzzzzzzzz.
My suite had a doorbell? As I hastened to the doors, which were a haul from my bedroom, I wondered if Sevastyan had come to get me. Though I’d been hurt at first by his parting words, I’d assured myself that he was trying to be a good enforcer, walking away from the taboo woman.
Spirits buoyed, I’d investigated my suite, getting ready for tonight. After taking a bath in a tub larger than most family pools, I’d gamely explored all the clothes, shoes, handbags, and cosmetics.
Though the lingerie on the plane hadn’t been over-the-top sexy, the selection in my new wardrobe ran the gamut. I’d gone for daring—thigh-highs, a black silk thong, and matching demi-cup bra—just in case Sevastyan apologized for being a dick and admitted taboo was just his speed (a girl can dream!).
For the banquet, I’d decided to err on the side of dressy, selecting a formfitting wrap dress in royal-blue silk. The color made my eyes look more aqua than green.
I’d pulled my hair up, the better to show off my pounded-gold choker and chandelier earrings. Though I wasn’t a makeup buff, I’d even opted for mascara and lip gloss.
At the door, I smoothed my dress, then opened up. “Filip?”
“I thought I’d escort you to the feast.” He was dressed in the latest style, drainpipe pants and a slim-fit jacket. With his tie a little loose, his look said: Ivy Leaguer who started the party early. “You look ravishing, Cuz.” He took my hand and kissed it.
If Sevastyan had done the same, I would’ve jumped like the man had live wires attached to his skin. But with Filip there was none of that spark. “Thanks, Filip.”
Out in the hall, he offered his arm. “Were you disappointed to see me at the door?”
“What? No,” I lied.
“I’m afraid our grim friend Sevastyan declined to come get you.”
“Did he, then?” Burn.
It made sense, though. The man wished he’d never met me; why wouldn’t he avoid me? How quick he’d been to tell me, “There is no us.”
Filip frowned down at me. “I’ve never seen him so put off by a pretty girl before. But all things considered, I suppose we shouldn’t blame him.”
“All things considered? What do you mean?” My black heels sank into the plush rug as we made our way down the hallway to the staircase.
“He was the boss’s main heir before you came along.”
I shrugged noncommittally, though I knew this wasn’t the cause of Sevastyan’s chilliness. Manalyzing again, Nat?
The truth was that I didn’t know anything about him.
Filip continued, “Now Kovalev has taken such a shine to you, he called for his lawyers today to change his will. As of an hour ago, you’re officially a billion-heiress.”
“How do you know that?” We reached the stairs, descending.
He grinned. “I have ways, Cuz.”
Why the rush to change his will? “I never asked for that. I don’t want any of Kovalev’s money.” Just thinking about having to deal with that kind of wealth, and the accompanying responsibility, made my necklace feel tight around my throat.
I liked the simple life; people with that kind of money didn’t lead simple lives. “And I have no intention of horning in on Sevastyan’s inheritance.”
“Natalie, I never meant to imply that.” He looked mortified, as if I’d pantsed him. “I’m so sorry if I offended.”
“Oh, Filip, I’m just being overly sensitive.” I confided to him, “The money actually freaks me out.”
“That’s a good problem to have, no? Don’t fret, you’ll get everything worked out with Kovalev. He’s a considerate man, a big softy at heart. He’ll do whatever it takes to make you comfortable here.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Wanting to change the subject, I said, “You and Sevastyan don’t seem to get along.”
Filip gave me a you-have-no-idea expression. “He’s like a vicious guard dog around Uncle Kov, not surprising since the man plucked Sevastyan off the streets.”
That was where Kovalev had found him? The idea of Sevastyan living on the streets as a boy broke my heart. No wonder I couldn’t get a sense of him. Sevastyan was a blend of street and privilege.
“He doesn’t like anyone near Kovalev but himself.” With a charming quirk of his brow, Filip said, “I’d probably admire the trait more if he didn’t use it against me.” When we reached the main floor, Filip steered me down an airy foyer.
“And why doesn’t Sevastyan like you?”
“He resents my education. He never had formal schooling, you know. He hates any reminder of that. Chip on his shoulder the size of Siberia.”
What must Sevastyan think about my advanced degree? Had he felt even a twinge of guilt when he’d unenrolled me?
“Just be careful around him, Cuz.”
The same advice Sevastyan had given me about Filip. “Why?”
He gazed away. “The man’s got some . . . serious issues.”
“Tell me.”
In a lower voice, Filip said, “He’s been to prison and seems proud of it. He’s got these two dome tattoos on his arm, which is mafiya code for doing two stints. One of those times was in a bloody Siberian prison camp. It does things to a man.”
I was speechless. I’d seen those markings on his arm and had had no idea what they signified.
Yet knowing more about Sevastyan’s checkered past didn’t diminish my attraction for him. In fact, Filip’s revelation had just given Sevastyan layers, making me want to peel them away one by one. Once I returned to my suite tonight, I’d fire up that Mac and learn more about the tattoos. Hell, about this entire new world.
“And don’t even get me started on his bizarre relationship with alcohol.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, though I’d already seen evidence of this. Last night, Sevastyan had consumed a drink, but only after abstaining from it again and again.
“Just watch him tonight. You’ll see. But enough about him. Look, if you need anything, you come to me.” Filip patted my hand on his arm. “You’re Ko
valev’s daughter, and I owe that man my life.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “I was in a bad place six months ago when my dad died suddenly. Uncle Kov gave me a lifeline.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, and I really appreciate your offer.”
I heard laughter and voices drifting from the room at the end of the foyer. I was eager to join the others, but just outside the doors, Filip stopped me.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Natalie. It’s nice to have someone else around who’s Westernized. And who doesn’t hold it against me that I’ve never been to prison!” He laid his hands on my shoulders and smiled down at me, a move that would make most women proffer their panties. “Kovalev has to go into the city tomorrow afternoon. Let me show you around the place—”
Before I could pull away, the doors opened, revealing the Siberian on the other side. My heart leapt—had he been coming for me?
He stopped in his tracks, expression growing lethal. What’d I do now? Then I realized it looked like Filip and I had been about to . . . kiss. I swung my head around to take in the immense dining room and the other guests already inside. About thirty brigadiers.
And all their eyes were on Filip and me, every conversation stalled.
I guessed it was pretty bad when dozens of Russian gangsters got scandalized by one’s behavior. But I hadn’t done anything.
At least, not with Filip.
When Sevastyan’s fists balled, I marched away from both men. Squaring my shoulders, chin lifted, I made my way to Kovalev, my heels sounding abnormally loud in the silent hall.
He was standing at the head of a lengthy table that was covered with dazzling candles, china, and silver. He glanced uncertainly from me to Filip, so I gave him a ready smile. “This is incredible, Paxán. Thank you.” My guiltless demeanor seemed to defuse the situation; conversations resumed.
When Kovalev pulled out the chair to his right for me, he said under his breath, “Anything amiss?”
I murmured back, “Not at all.”
Filip followed, taking a seat beside me. With a laugh, he muttered, “That was awkward, huh?”
When Sevastyan returned to the table and took the seat opposite me, his face was his usual unreadable mask, but that muscle in his jaw was twitching.
