by D. A. Young
Kat reached them just as her father did. Although she resembled her beautiful mother in looks, her penetrating stare was an exact duplicate of the man standing next to her, surveying Holt and his father shrewdly. Patiently waiting. Like the predator he was nicknamed after.
“Rudii, I’m glad you were able to join us after all,” Alexei greeted him warmly, the ever-gracious host. “Is Elin with you?”
“Alexei, good to see you. No, unfortunately. Elin is indisposed at the moment due to the weather.”
“Yes, of course. That’s a shame as she is always a delight to be around,” the Russian murmured. “Please do give her my and Vivienne’s regards. Let us know if she needs anything.”
“Yes, of course. Thank—”
“With all due respect, Mr. Brammer, let’s cut the chitchat,” Kat chimed in sweetly. “What have you done to upset my Holton?”
Holt’s quiet demeanor was all the way off; therefore, she had no time for pretenses. Kat could feel the blast of the anger blistering around him from across the room. When his turbulent blue eyes met hers, Kat’s heart froze with trepidation, drawing forth her defensive instincts. A short while ago, they’d been lost in their own little nirvana with the intent of having a good time and dancing the night away. Well, as lost as a girl could be with protective brothers ‘‘helicoptering’’ in the vicinity. Now, Kat was ready to smite the spot Rudii stood in if it would alleviate his son’s stress.
She and Holt had spent the last two weeks cocooned in a state of euphoric bliss as Christmas neared. When Kat wasn’t in her design studio and Holt at Americana Traditions, they were at his cabin. The world fell away while they got lost in each other, making dinner together, reading, watching their favorite shows or a movie, or just cozying up. With rules and regulations, of course.
Ugh.
Holt’s insistence that Kat’s clothes stay on and their hands never dip underneath articles of clothing.
She wasn’t allowed anywhere near the bedroom areas. And…
There was no sleeping over.
However, there were plenty of booty rubs and back massages that had Kat damn near dry-humping his leg. Oh, and kissing. Hot, heady, masterful sweeps of his tongue plundering her mouth that she couldn’t get enough of. Holt kindled a firestorm within her body nightly, making Kat melt with the realization that he would make love to her in the same fashion.
Currently, they were in the middle of strategizing a European expedition next year after little Ms. Moira arrived. Kat was excited about getting away with her man and exploring new adventures and familiar cities. She was also puzzled because it seemed they were going everywhere but Sweden. Kat had only visited once. It was a quick day trip to see Holt. The incident had been one of many that strained their relationship. She’d really wanted to wipe that memory away and create new ones in Sweden. Holt had shared enough of his childhood stories to pique her curiosity yet had not mentioned his family’s birth country at all during their planning.
Rudii looked strained, regret filling his eyes. “If you’ll both excuse us, Holton is needed elsewhere now. We have family business to tend to.”
“Perhaps, I may be of assistance?” Alexei’s offer was for Holton only.
“I appreciate that, sir, but it’s not necessary. My father was just leavin’.” Holt stepped forward, dismissing his father and taking Kat’s hands. “I believe you owe me another dance, love.”
Rudii exploded. “For God’s sake! Stop bein’ difficult, would you? I was told it had to do with Cleo, son.”
Holt grew rigid and seeing that, a confused Kat’s eyebrows collided, her expression one of puzzlement. “Cleo? Isn’t she your cousin’s wife? Why does she need your help?”
Rudii exhaled sharply, feeling the invisible bullets Alexei was firing into his face with his deadly glare. He knew it looked otherwise to the Russian; nonetheless, his goal tonight was not to disrespect the man nor his precious daughter. Unfortunately, the envelope had to be pushed.
“She is more than just Mattias’ wife. At one time, she was Holt’s fiancée. They’ve since remained friends, and she is now in need of his assistance.”
“Ex-fiancé?!” Kat’s hand fell from Holt’s. “You were engaged?”
The perfect little snow globe they’d been living in shattered with that revelation.
Holt addressed Alexei first as he recaptured her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. A palm poised like she wanted to slap the shit out of him with, judging from the evident fury on her face. “It’s not what either of you think. I swear to you, darlin’.”
To Rudii, Holt tersely added, “That was uncalled for, Dad! You knew the implication would be damnin’! I’ll deal with this mess, and we will be talkin’ later.”
“Why don’t I know anything about her? How long ago was this?” Kat’s voice was cutting as she jerked back, retreating from the guilt and regret stamped all over Holt’s face with a sinking stomach. Her back collided with her father’s front, and his hands clasped her forearms with protective support.
“I’m doin’ what’s necessary to keep normalcy around here. Your mother doesn’t deserve the added stress, and you know it!” To the Romankovs, Rudii inclined his head, curtly adding, “My apologies to both of you. I’ll go now.”
“One moment, please,” Alexei requested grimly. “Katya, the Brammers have a situation that needs immediate addressing. You and Holton also have much to discuss. Why don’t the two of you make use of—”
Chagrined, he paused. They couldn’t very well utilize the study he’d just ravished her mother in. Kat’s scrunched face and Holt’s lifted eyebrow echoed Alexei’s sentiment.
“Umm, no thank you, Papa. Please excuse us, we’ll be in my studio.”
Kat didn’t stick around for his reply. Grabbing Holt by the arm, they marched past the curious stares of friends and family and exited the ballroom.
Alexei faced Rudii again, dropping all pretense of civility.
“I sincerely meant no disrespect, Romankov—” the other man began again but was abruptly cut off.
“Have you ever heard of Novodevichy Cemetery?”
The cemetery was the most famous in Moscow. The tombs were home to former Russian authors, musicians, playwrights, and poets, as well as famous actors, political leaders, and scientists. It was second in prestige only to burial in the Kremlin Wall Necropolis.
“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” was the other man’s wary response.
“Seventeen of my family members are buried there in Russia. My parents and the other fifteen were cousins and godbrothers that died by my hand. Good, decent men I shared my childhood with. I’d taken a blood oath to fight alongside them, to always have their back while waiting for my father to make me his successor.”
Alexei paused, a bittersweet sorrow that he rarely allowed himself to dwell in, reminding him of all that had transpired. He searched the ballroom for Vivienne. She was talking animatedly with Ian as they danced. Their eyes met over his shoulder from across the room, and the shared intimacy refueled his soul. “Only one course of action could change that for me.”
“Meeting Vivienne,” Rudii accurately guessed, following his stare. “Your love for her was worth it. I completely understand. As you well know, our family is no stranger to those extenuating circumstances either.”
“Precisely,” Alexei smoothly confirmed. “Freedom can test one’s limits and make or break the strongest of bonds. In my case, it was the latter. The end result was my family needing closed caskets as their corpses were either in pieces or unrecognizable. It was either them or her. My father would accept no other alternative. I wanted no part of it and tried to bow out of the gauntlet peacefully. That only served to enrage Boris further. My back to the wall, I was left with no other choice except to fight for what I needed. To this day, I still believe I chose wisely.”
“As do I, Romankov. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“Not quite, Brammer.”
Rudii stiffened when Al
exei turned back to face him, voice dipped precariously low. His face sharpened into a lethal mask and indigo eyes raging with ferocity.
“I fear you’re misinterpreting the situation. In Russia, we have a saying. Syem raz otmer’. Odin raz otrezh. Measure seven times before you cut once. Are you familiar with it?”
“I’m waiting to be enlightened, Romankov.”
“Be careful before you do something that can’t be unchanged. My point to you was to tread lightly. If I could do that to my own flesh and blood, imagine what I could do to someone I shared no blood with? Someone foolish enough to enter my home and disrespect my daughter right before my eyes?!”
Alexei’s smile was genuine when Rudii retreated warily. “I’m not the enemy, Romankov.”
Bitterness suddenly made him appear decades older, the connection to his in-laws clearly taking its toll. “The enemy has minions on the tarmac waiting for my son to slip up! I won’t allow Holt to, not on behalf of your daughter nor to disrupt his mother’s peace of mind in the process. Do the right thing here and refuse your blessin’ for the time being! Allow him to carry out his duty. You owe him that much after all he’s done for your family, ‘Wolf’.”
“It is because I owe him and my friendship with your wife that I’m extending a one-time courtesy in the form of this warning. Get the hell out of my house while you still have use of your legs and your eyes to guide you.”
Rudii flinched and dropped his arms, hands balling into fists. “That was a low blow, you sonofabitch!”
Surveying him coolly, Alexei nodded matter-of-factly. “Regrettably, for you, it is the truth as is my relentless nature. Now, either make a move or I will.”
Chapter Six
“Start talking, Holton Brammer!” Kat seethed, quietly pushing her glass studio door shut behind them then locking it. Fury singed her from the inside out, the threat of violence scrabbling to make itself known. He’d been engaged and hadn’t said shit about it! “Or so help me, God, I will body your big ass—”
It was far as she got before Holt pressed her up against the door. His lips crashing into hers while his hands shoved into her curls, holding Kat in place. Holt’s tongue coaxed its way past her lips to claim its prize—the silky, spicy-sweet recesses of her mouth. Her flavor exploded all over his tongue and Holt relished it like a fine liqueur. Kat greedily met him lick-for-lick, stroke, and bite, her arms winding around his forearms, embracing the tempestuous storm that was Holton Brammer.
Her body pressed into his and hooking a leg around his hip, Kat grinded brazenly against the telltale bulge in the crotch of his pants, torturing them both with the exquisite friction. Her nails scored through the thick waves that were just past his shoulder, and his feral growl made her entire body vibrate, drenching her core. Kat’s teeth sank deeply into his bottom lip, letting him know that as much as she enjoyed their intimacy, she was still focused on the subject at hand. Holt welcomed the pain, swallowing the drop of blood she’d drawn.
“It was a long time ago before I surrendered to my feelin’s for you. There is no other woman in the world for me, Katerina,” Holt rasped, breathing labored and blue eyes blazing with pent-up desire, frustration, and love. “Never doubt that I’m completely devoted to you.”
Reluctantly, he stepped back, leaving Kat trembling, her heart maniacally pumping from the delicious onslaught he’d unleashed. Tenderly, Holt used his thumb to wipe the sides and top of her kiss-swollen lips clean of her smeared burgundy gloss. His eyes drifted lower to the rise and fall of her chest. The exposure of her delectable, creamy, peanut butter skin and voluptuous swells of her breasts underneath her sapphire blazer tempted Holt, forcing him to look away.
Dazedly, Kat leaned against the door and tried to get her bearings from the intensely ravenous kisses that defined his feelings for her. This was what Holt did to her. With just the touch of his lips, he snatched the air from her lungs, and she unraveled. He’d awakened a sexual siren that Kat never dreamed existed. It alternated the perception she’d had of herself, and they were barely scratching the surface. She was unequivocally shameless for Holt as he was for her. The mutuality emboldened and thrilled Kat and not an ounce of fear would be found in her virginal body when they finally consummated their relationship. Kat was more than ready to be naked and at his clemency. The torrid fantasy brought a fresh splash of color to her cheeks and a tsunami of arousal between her thighs.
“I know that, Holton! However, it still doesn’t absolve you from the ex-fiancé you neglected to mention! How could you withhold major information like that?! From me of all people?! That belittles us,” she retorted. “I thought we promised to always keep it one hundred. Reclamation of trust occurs when loyalty is insufficient.”
“I’m all about consistency and commitment to you, baby. You’re right to hold my ass accountable because we are in this together. The goal is to build and grow our relationship yet maintain us at the same time, so you’ll never have to say ‘I miss the way things used to be’.”
Holt was speaking nothing but facts. He was so consumed with Kat that his every reaction was influenced by her needs and wants. After neglecting her in his quest to find her mother’s blackmailer, Holt’s latest mission was to ensure that Kat was thoroughly romanced and cherished.
Kat was a kaleidoscope of emotions— love, lust, anger, but mainly, jealousy. The unfamiliar emotion toiled within, brewing a toxicity that threatened to suffocate her. It left her feeling vulnerable as if her chest had been clawed open and her heart ripped out and tossed into a vat of acid. Kat pushed off the door and shoved past him. She stalked across the room to stand behind her large work table where she felt most in control. Her fingers skimmed over the work tools she’d left out, needle files, solder picks, wire cutters, and pliers as she tried to compartmentalize her feelings.
Neatly arranging them, Kat surveyed her workspace and felt somewhat calmer. Located directly next to her bedroom, it was spacious and well-lit. Her sanctuary. The mint green wallpaper design with black and white, faceless felines with the word Vixen scribbled in an elegant gold font throughout represented her company. The floor was rustic wood and matched the tables and counter spaces designated for each stage of jewelry crafting: design, soldering, forging and lapidary, and a utility sink to rinse her tools off. There was a huge cabinet where she stored supplies, various metals, and her grinder, buffer, and drill press. Where the average room had three electrical outlets, Kat’s studio boasted twelve to prevent circuit overload. The gems she worked with were secured in her father’s secret vault in the basement.
“Who broke it off? You or her?” she finally mumbled.
Holt shoved his hands into his pants pockets and silently regarded her with a controlled, predatory stillness. His blue eyes slit with a searing intensity that both unnerved and thrilled Kat.
“If you want your questions answered, bring that ass back over here, darlin’. Now. It would behoove you to remember that runnin’ from me isn’t an option that you would ever want to entertain, Katerina. I will always come for you and enjoy the consequences of your defiance. Should you choose to go that route, brace yourself for the aftermath because I will hunt you down and enjoy the spoils of my victory until your voice breaks.”
The compelling seduction in his ominous warning should have terrified her. Instead, it intrigued Kat and she resolutely stood her ground. Impatiently, her fingernail circled her face. “First of all, do I look even remotely bothered? I’m good right where I am, sunshine. Now, back to the question—OMG!” she screeched in the next breath. “How in the hell do you manage to do that?!”
She’d blinked, and Holt was in her space, towering over her, the distance between them erased. He crowded Kat until her ass was pressed into the table, her hands braced against his chest. Holt wedged his body between her splayed thighs. Tipping her head back, she met his glittering eyes, raw with desire and love, roaming all over her face and Kat’s anger thawed slightly. It was virtually impossible to stay furious. Especially
when Holt watched her in the exact manner her father and brothers watched their wives.
“FYI, I’m savin’ tonight’s punishment for our weddin’ night,” Holt growled, bending down to bite Kat’s chin, his tongue gliding teasingly over her lips, making her purr. “You’re rackin’ up quite a tab. At the rate your feisty ass is goin’, you’re not gonna be able to sit for at least two weeks from the plans that I have for that specific part of your anatomy, love.”
“Promise? As long as you make it worth my while, Holton,” Kat taunted with a come-hither smirk, primed for whatever he wanted to do. Rising on tiptoe, her lips parted invitingly and unable to deny her anything, Holt’s lips brushed over hers, in a butterfly kiss, light and fleeting.
Begrudgingly, she admitted, “Fine! I suppose we’re all entitled to a past, but don’t you dare fucking blindside me again! I won’t be a fool for anyone! I don’t do drama and don’t appreciate it being brought to my doorstep. Start talking.”
“I know I don’t talk about them much, but you’re familiar with my mother’s family?”
“Since we started seeing each other, and I peeped game on your family’s estate over there? Yes,” she replied candidly. “Why don’t you talk about them?”
Kat had made it her business to do her research on his family. Holt’s mother was the only girl born to Madeline and Ivar Falk. She had two older brothers, Julian and Maxim, who worked alongside their father in the family’s conglomerate. The articles that Kat read, along with Ivar’s Wikipedia page, hinted at implications of underground activity and shady dealings surrounding the shrewd business mogul, dating back to his humble beginnings. No criminal charges had ever been filed, however. Sweden currently had a record of one hundred and eighty-seven billionaires. Ivar Falk was ranked in the top ten.
His whirlwind relationship with Madeline was often romanticized as one of the greatest Swedish love stories ever told. Madeline was Sweden’s national daughter. She believed in public service and was adored by the nation for her philanthropic endeavors. She instilled those beliefs in her children, committing them in her quest to make the world a better place. The nation mourned her passing from pneumonia when Elin was twenty-six. To this day, her family continued to honor her legacy through the Madeline Falk Foundation her grieving husband created.
