by Roxie Rivera
After the botched hit by Romero, Nikolai had assumed it was one of the local crews trying to take him out before he could build up the Russian presence in Houston. Now he had to wonder if Maksim hadn't sent him here to get him out of the way.
Back in Russian, Nikolai had climbed as high as he could in the family. There had been whispers of him striking out on his own to form his own organization. They were rumors that he'd stridently denied because they weren't true. He'd never wanted his own family of thieves and criminals.
But then Maksim had given him orders to move to Houston and grow the syndicate here. Nikolai had wanted a fresh start as badly as Ivan had so they'd jumped in with both feet, bringing Kostya and a few others with them. At the time, he'd considered the opportunity to start a new branch of the family in Houston a reward.
But now? Now he wondered if Maksim hadn't been trying to quietly remove a problem. If Romero had succeeded in killing him, no one would have ever suspected Maksim of being behind the hit. Everyone would have assumed it was a territorial issue and let it go.
Was that why this mess had all blown up since Romero's unexpected release from prison? Was Maksim trying to flush out Vivian's father so he could snuff him out before the truth reached Nikolai? Had Maksim been the one to kidnap Vivian and threaten to sell her in a sex slave auction? Was he the one bringing trafficked girls into Houston and making a play for Nikolai's territory?
He was powerful enough to do all that and more. Suddenly, Nikolai mistrusted everyone around him, even Kostya. With all the power Maksim wielded, he could turn any man against him.
Dread slithered along Nikolai's neck and down his spine, leaving a chilly trail that made his stomach flip-flop. Nothing about this situation was simple anymore. He had to make a move but it had to be the right move at the exact right moment.
"Boss?" Kostya quietly prompted him. "What's the plan?"
"Get these bodies loaded up into truck before Besian gets here. As to the rest—you let me handle that."
* * *
A text alert woke me the next morning. Pulled from a fitful sleep, I sat up and rubbed my face between my hands. My head ached and the grogginess clouding my thoughts refused to fade.
I stared at the empty side of the bed where Nikolai should have been. The memories of my absolute failure as a wife knifed at my heart. I didn't know how the hell I was going to look him in the eye this morning. I still didn't understand what I'd done wrong or why he'd run out of here like his backside was on fire.
My cell phone chirped again. I glanced at the bedside table with some surprise. I didn't remember bringing my phone in here. A quick survey of the room told me that Nikolai had returned at some point. The cup and saucer on to the low square ottoman and the smashed cushion on his chair were evidence of that.
Had he simply sat there all night watching me? Before I'd cried myself to sleep, I'd heard the front door open and close a few times. I'd assumed it was Kostya or Sergei but now I wondered if Nikolai had left. Where had he gone? What in the world was more important than our first night as husband and wife?
A terrifying thought struck. What if someone had been hurt? One of my friends or Eric?
I clambered across the mattress to pick up my phone. The text message from Lena seemed so ominous until I opened it.
So?! How did it go?
Relief swamped me. If something terrible had happened, Lena would have been the first to tell me. I started to set aside my phone but I needed to talk to her. I needed someone to tell me I wasn't totally undesirable.
Instead of texting, I called her. When she answered two rings later, a loud snore blasted my ear. Even in my depressed state, I couldn't stop laughing. "Oh my God! What is that?"
Lena giggled softly. "Hang on. Let me get out of bed. Yuri is hungover like no one's business and he's snoring like a damn bear."
"Are you sure he's okay? Maybe you should roll him onto his side or something."
"He'll be fine." Bedcovers rustled and the snore grew softer and softer. "Okay. How's this?"
"Much better."
"I'll be lucky if I get him out of bed before noon. After you two left, he really cut loose. I guess he decided that his duties as best man had been successfully discharged so it was time to party like a college kid."
I had a hard time imagining Yuri partying. Like Nikolai, he always seemed so conservative and in control.
"So…?"
A sob I hadn't wanted to unleash escaped my lips. "It was awful."
Lena inhaled a sharp breath. "Are you okay? Did he—are you hurt?"
"No. No. Nothing like that," I hurriedly clarified, lest she think the absolute worst of Nikolai. "He didn't—I mean—well…he left."
Lena didn't say anything for a few seconds. "What do you mean he left?"
"We were making out and I was naked and it was really hot and everything was going so well—and then he, like, freaked out and left."
"Left? Left where?"
I sniffled loudly. "I don't know. He ran out of the bedroom without even zipping his pants. I heard the front door open and close a few times but I guess he came back while I was sleeping."
"God, Vivi," Lena said on a noisy breath. "I don't even know what to say. Did…did something happen while you were kissing? Maybe he couldn't…you know?"
"That wasn't the problem." I remembered the feel of his hard cock in my hand. "He was ready to go. I was ready to go. It got a little intense and I wanted to slow it down."
"What did you say when you wanted to slow it down?"
"Wait."
"Oh. Well…maybe he thought you meant stop?"
"Maybe," I said uncertainly. "But why didn't he just ask me?"
"If I understood men, I'd be richer than Yuri by writing how-to books for us girls. Look, Nikolai isn't the most expressive of men. Maybe he didn't know how to ask you or maybe he wanted to cool things down to make sure you were absolutely ready."
"I married him, Lena. How much more ready does he need me to be?"
"That's a question you have to ask him. He's your husband now. Hell—maybe this is a better question for Benny. She's got a few weeks of married woman experience. She might have better advice."
"I guess."
Lena seemed to hesitate before asking, "What if he reacted that way last night because of that thing that happened to him when he was a little boy?"
My heart skipped a few beats. Suddenly, I felt so damn selfish. "I hadn't even considered that he might have issues with intimacy because of what they did to him."
"I feel like such an asshole even asking this but did he date a lot before you? I mean, do you know if he was having regular sex with anyone?"
My stomach pitched painfully at the idea of Nikolai in another woman's arms. "I saw him date a little when I first started working at Samovar but it's been a long, long time since I've seen him with anyone."
"So maybe he can have sex—"
"But just not with me?" My lower lip wobbled. "What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing!" Lena passionately replied. "You're perfect and beautiful and sweet and desirable. There's nothing wrong with you. Even if it turns out that he can't be with you for whatever reason, it's not your fault. Okay? Whatever this is—it's not your fault."
Though Lena desperately tried to reassure me, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was the reason our wedding night had gone so badly. As I showered and dressed, I tried to ignore the anxiety building within me. I didn't know what the hell I was going to say or do when I saw Nikolai downstairs. He'd probably be sweet and gentle with me and pretend nothing had happened.
But I didn't want to pretend. I wanted to figure out what the hell had gone wrong so we could fix the problem. I loved him and I wanted him—all of him.
I descended the stairs slowly and quietly. My heart raced and my mouth went dry. Rather than draw out the inevitable, I decided to seek him out now. I stopped by the library and his home office but both came up empty.
Eventually, I circled throug
h the entire house before reaching the kitchen where I discovered Sergei seated on a barstool at the island enjoying a cup of coffee and the paper. He glanced up at me and smiled. "Good morning."
"Morning." I skipped the coffee and headed for the refrigerator for a can of soda. This morning I had a craving for something fizzy and sweet.
"There's fruit and pastries." He gestured to a spread on the other end of the counter. "I can make you some eggs or bacon, if you'd like."
"Thank you, but no." I didn't add that the only man making me breakfast the morning after my wedding should have been my husband. Sergei obviously didn't want to be in this uncomfortable position. I sensed he wanted to be anywhere but here this morning. "Where is Nikolai?"
Sergei's gaze dropped to his cup of coffee. "He had to leave on business."
"Business," I repeated with disbelief.
"Yeah." Sergei nervously cleared his throat. "I'm supposed to make sure you're looked after today. If you need to go anywhere, just ask."
"Take me to Nikolai."
"You know I can't do that."
Irritation burned me right up. "Then take me to my studio."
"But you haven't eaten," Sergei interjected.
"I'm not hungry."
"Nikolai isn't going to like hearing that I let you leave without breakfast."
"If he doesn't like it, he can take it up with me." I stormed out of the kitchen and into the mud room where I grabbed my coat and messenger bag. As I got dressed, I started to cry. It made me feel so weak and silly but I couldn't stop the hot tears streaming down my cheeks.
"Sweetheart," Sergei said gently from the doorway. "Don't cry. Okay? I can't handle the sight of a pretty girl like you crying."
I wiped at my face and refused to face him. "You'd better get used to it. I have a feeling you're going to be seeing it a lot."
He chuckled at my melodramatic reply. "Here."
I glanced back to see him extending a napkin. "Thanks."
"Listen," he said carefully as I dabbed at my face, "if Nikolai could be here right now he would be. Do you think he wanted to spend last night away from you?" Sergei shook his head. "Something happened last night and he's doing what a good boss does. He's taking care of it."
"And what about a good husband? Isn't a husband supposed to take care of his wife?"
"He's not any old husband, Vivian. He's Nikolai."
And there it was. The absolute unvarnished truth. In the hierarchy of Nikolai's world, I ranked somewhere near the top but a few pegs lower than his loyalty to the family.
My heart ached with such bitter disappointment. Turning my back on Sergei, I ordered, "Get your jacket. I'm ready to go."
He didn't answer immediately. When he did, it was in a voice tinged with sadness. "Yes, ma'am."
Chapter Twenty
Nikolai recognized the dark expression on Sergei's face when he arrived at the studio that evening. He checked his watch and grimaced. It was nearly seven. He could only imagine how infuriated Vivian was by now. Every time he'd wanted to call her, he'd been interrupted with something more pressing. Sorting out this mess and shoring up support for the possible war that loomed on the horizon had taken much longer than he'd anticipated.
"You might want to keep a table between you," Sergei suggested as he neared the door. The loud pulsing thud of the electronic music she preferred made the walls shake. "She's got all sorts of sharp objects within arm's reach. Chisels, knives—I'd stand back if I were you."
Nikolai took the warning to heart. Gathering his courage, he stepped inside the studio and locked the door behind him. This was an argument he didn't want interrupted.
"I said to stay out, Sergei!" She didn't even bother looking to see who had come in the door. He took advantage of her turned back to scope out the surroundings. She'd spread out drop cloths on the floor. Two canvases sat on easels. Both were in various stages of completion. Four other painted but destroyed canvases had been haphazardly tossed against a wall.
He walked over to the sound system and turned down the music a few notches. "Vee."
She went rigid at the sound of his voice. When she turned around, she had one of those oddly-shaped palette knives in one hand and a paint-smeared palette in the other. The palette could give him a good whack but it was the knife that made him worry. He'd seen shivs less gnarly than that thing.
Glaring at him, she remarked harshly, "Well, you're braver than Sergei."
"I wouldn't go that far," he said while carefully closing the distance between them. "I'm clearly stupider."
"Don't expect me to argue that one."
"I don't." He was certain she had a number of choice words she'd like to toss his way. Glancing at the ruined canvases, he asked jokingly, "Is that a new technique?"
Vivian narrowed her eyes. "No, it's my latest series. I call it Stupid Girl Who Married a Mob Boss and Expected to Matter." She gestured to the two canvases on her easels. "I think I'm going to call these Bitter Disappointment and The Joys of a Wedding Breakfast Mob Enforcer Style."
Nikolai winced. "Point taken, Vee."
She tossed the palette and knife onto the nearest work table. She put her hands on her hips and smeared paint on her sandy colored sweater dress. Apparently she was so pissed off she hadn't even cared to protect her clothing with an apron. "Where the hell have you been?"
He inhaled a noisy breath and rubbed the back of his neck. He started to question his decision to forego the smoke he'd wanted so badly. Right now, he could have used the mellowed out nerves because it was clear she wanted to fight. "It's complicated."
"Then make time to explain it."
"I can't, Vee."
"Bullshit. We're married now." She lifted her hand and touched her wedding band. "We're supposed to be partners. Do you think Dimitri keeps things from Benny? Do you think he goes all day without calling her?"
He bristled at the comparison. "We're two different men in two different marriages."
She grabbed a marker and a piece of paper, slammed them down on the table and shoved them toward him. "You may as well go ahead and write out the rules of our marriage because I clearly missed that memo."
Part of him wanted to embrace the smartass role and start scribbling away on that sheet of blank paper. Maybe it would be simpler to put it all on the line right now. The pain darkening those beautiful blue eyes of hers pushed that thought right out of his head. Desperate to make things right, he moved around the table to stand in front of her. "Vee…"
"Don’t." She put her hands on his chest to keep him from kissing her. "You just…you left me."
The anguish coloring her voice slashed at him. She wasn't simply talking about the way he'd abruptly ended their wedding night. It occurred to him that all her life the people she cared for and loved had been walking out on her or leaving her behind. Her mother committed suicide. Her father went to prison. Her grandparents had both died.
And he'd walked out on their wedding night without even explaining himself. He'd gone all day without talking to her. He could only imagine how abandoned she felt.
Touching his forehead to hers, he whispered, "I'm sorry. I should have called you or left you a note or woken you up to talk to you."
"What happened last night?"
He wasn't ready to discuss what had happened in their bed just yet. Voice lowered, he explained, "Someone dropped the bodies of the men who attacked us at Samovar."
Vivian reeled back with horror. "What?"
He nodded. "I've been trying to deal with that all night and today. There might be a war."
Her face paled. "No."
"I don't like telling you this. I wanted to keep it from you. I wish I could make it all go away but I can't. You're right. You need to know."
"Who, Nikolai? Who is trying to hurt you? Who wants to hurt us?"
"I think it might be the boss."
"Maksim?"
He wasn't surprised she knew his name. As much as she snooped around Samovar, she probably knew so much
more than he'd ever imagined. "Yes."
"Oh, God." She touched his jaw. "What do we do?"
We. Even faced with such horror, she wanted to stand by and support him. She was right. They were married now and truly partners. To navigate these tricky waters, he could use a sounding board. Vee didn't understand all the subtle nuances of his world, but she was a quick learner and she had a keen awareness when it came to relationships between people.
"Sit up here." He patted the worktable's surface. Vivian backed up to it, placed her palms on the stainless steel top and hopped up onto it. He pulled one of the stools over and sat.
With her legs draped around his waist, she rested her hands on his shoulders. "Tell me."
"I'm making plans, shifting some alliances. Lorenzo Guzman got his first shipment from the Irishman a few nights ago. It went well so he needs me alive. He knows the Irishman won't trade with him if I'm not in the picture. He doesn't want someone like Maksim running in this area anyway. They're both too big and it would never work."
"What if Maksim offers the smaller players in town a better deal? Like the Albanians and the Hermanos or those crazy white guys who hate on everyone?"
Maybe she wasn't as uneducated in the nuances of his world as he'd imagined. "If he makes a move, it will fail. People don't like change and that's especially true in this line of work. We all trade on trust and reputation. The Moscow syndicate has a reputation for being greedy and violent. No one wants that shit here."
His eyes lowered as her soft fingers moved down his cheek and along his jaw. "What do I need to do?"
"I need you to be safe. Stick with Sergei and Danny. Keep your eyes open. If anything seems strange, you run."
"I promise I'll be really careful."
"I know you will." He hated scaring her and tried to lessen the ugliness of all that he'd just unloaded on her by clasping her face and claiming her sweet mouth. Judging by the sugary chocolate hints clinging to her lips, she'd been eating junk food all afternoon. When their kiss ended, he glanced around the room and found her stash of empty wrappers on the other worktable. "How much sugar have you eaten today?"
