Ultimate Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 4)

by Nancy Haviland

  “Wow,” Sydney said, sounding properly impressed. “If she talks like Natasha Fatale, I’ll die.”

  “Who?” Eva asked. “Holy crap, Alek. No wonder you never forgot her. I think Nika wins.”

  “Yeah,” Sydney agreed. “Definite eleven. Natasha Fatale is the hot Russian babe from Rocky and Bullwinkle. I don’t want Sacha to have the smoker’s voice, but the accent? Yes.”

  “The curvy one with the cigarette holder,” Eva said, nodding. “Yeah. I can totally see it.”

  As the girls talked, the band that had been warming up began to play.

  “There’s my cue,” Alek said. “Markus, sooner rather than later on that room, okay?” He left them and detoured by the bar on his way around to rudely interrupt the cozy group that would soon be missing one of its members.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  As people came and went, Sacha found her smile growing more and more forced. A second ago, it had slipped away completely because she found herself standing between three Harvard graduates—Justin being one of them. She knew they went to Harvard because they’d just finished discussing some classmates who’d walked by. She also knew they went to Harvard because the knowledge was digging in and making her feel more inferior than she had in a long time. She straightened her spine again from the curve it kept trying to settle into.

  Justin’s associate once again had her back turned in an angle that excluded Sacha. Was she doing that deliberately? Trying to make Sacha feel as if she were an interloper? The emaciated woman needn’t have bothered. Sacha had been feeling that way since entering the room.

  She knew she didn’t belong here with these people. The more she witnessed their false cheer and listened to their confusing, double-meaning conversations, the more lost she became.

  Finally giving up, she amused herself by sipping at the two ounces of champagne in the bottom of her flute. As she brought the crystal down and looked around from under her lashes…

  Her heart slammed into her ribs. Good…God.

  Alekzander was at the edge of the dance floor looking the very image of class and sophistication. Like every man here, he wore a tuxedo. But it was better. He stood with one hand in his pocket while the other casually swirled a clear liquid in a squat glass. His gaze was locked on her.

  She wanted to walk over and kiss him until that controlled arrogance fell away and he became the man who’d once began talking dirty to her while they drove through Brooklyn on their way back from a dinner party. Having had a few drinks, she’d felt brave enough to turn his teasing around on him. She’d lifted her dress and started stroking herself, saying he’d turned her on too much for her to wait until they got home. He’d shocked her by pulling into a dark alley, and looking viciously aroused, he’d dragged her on top of him and wasted no time impaling her with his steely length. He’d helped her ride them both to a frantic climax.

  She also wanted to stomp over and slap his gorgeous face to get that possessive light out of his eyes. He was the one who’d ruined them. Why was he acting as if that didn’t matter?

  She dropped her eyes to her glass. Before leaving home, she’d told Angela she would listen to Alekzander when he came to her again. And, depending on what he said—would she recognize a lie?—she would most likely tell him about his daughter.

  Sacha’s shoulders bowed. She would tell him about his daughter. For Lekzi’s sake. The Tarasovs would shower her baby with love, and Lekzi deserved that.

  Sacha could only pray she and Alekzander were able to deal with each other as adults and do what was best for their child.

  Having kept him in her periphery, she was fully aware when a stunning blonde sidled up to him. With her heart climbing into her throat, Sacha watched from the corner of her eye as Alekzander accepted what looked to be a key. He smiled and pocketed it while the beauty in the green dress patted his arm. They moved out of sight, and so badly did she want to look to see if they were leaving together, but she didn’t. Was it a hotel room key? An apartment key?

  Two more couples stopped to say hello to Justin, and Sacha smiled through the familiar soul-deep sickness once more consuming her.

  “Excuse me.”

  Everyone but her paused and turned. She waited, hoping he wasn’t about to do what she was afraid he was about to do.

  “Sacha?”

  With her muscles aching from how stiffly she was holding herself, she slowly pivoted until she was facing her daughter’s father who’d just arranged to meet up with one of his women by accepting the key to her bloody hotel room.

  “Yes, Alekzander?” she pushed out as the scabs were ripped clean off wounds that would never heal.

  His lips were turned up in a social smile, but it had an edge to it that clearly warned he was not to be screwed with. “Dance with me?”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Alek knew he was dressed just as the others were, but he also knew there was something off about him. It showed in the way the men shifted and grew wary when he joined them. Also in the way the women’s eyes brightened when they sensed the threat.

  He put his hand out to Sacha. “Come,” he murmured, his voice smooth but shadowed with something dark.

  “No, thank you.” Utter loathing coated her refusal.

  He dropped his arm. “Okay. We can talk here. Sixteen months ago—”

  “Stop it,” she said through a clenched jaw.

  “Then dance with me.”

  She looked from him to Justin and Alek felt his rage spike when she didn’t take his once more outstretched hand until Sheppard nodded.

  Gripping her fingers hard enough to make her gasp, he led—dragged—her to the middle of the dance floor and drew her stiff form against him. She pulled back, trying to turn their embrace into a social, we’re-strangers type of thing. He didn’t let her. No. He pulled her in until their bodies were flush. He placed one of her hands around his neck and the other he clasped and curled his wrist around so that her palm was pressed tight to his pounding heart. She resisted.

  “If you don’t relax, I’ll cause the type of scene that will have you blushing for a goddamn week. Swear to God it’ll be so indecent we’ll make the lead story on whatever media form is in attendance.”

  She softened against him immediately, and he moaned at the feel of her. Couldn’t even give a fuck that she heard him.

  “If I ever see you seek permission from that cocksucker again, I don’t care what it’s for, you’ll regret it.”

  “Fuck you.”

  He couldn’t have been more surprised if she hauled off and punched him in the face. A laugh escaped before he could swallow it. She glared up at him with those mischievously slanted eyes and Alek forgot she was showing him her displeasure. All he got from the look was the connection.

  “You are hurting me.”

  He loosened his grip on her waist, even though he knew she couldn’t be in pain. He’d held her a hell of a lot tighter than this a time or two. If fact, he’d gripped her hard enough to leave marks as he’d positioned her and found his pleasure in her willing body.

  “Forgive me. I’m in defense mode,” he added in explanation. “If you’d like to change that, tell the boyfriend to fuck off. That’ll calm me down.”

  She looked at him as if she couldn’t believe he’d just said that. “I will do no such thing just to appease you. Maybe you should visit a psychiatrist or something. Learn how to control yourself. It might help in all aspects of your life, you jerk.” She kicked his ankle. She actually pulled her foot back and kicked his fucking ankle.

  Goddammit, he loved this woman. He preferred her submissive, but every once in a while, to have her meet his aggression like this was one hell of a turn-on.

  “You’ve become a mercurial little thing, haven’t you?”

  Her jaw rippled. “Why did you want this dance, Alekzander? To pair it with the meaningless conversation we had this morning? What do you want with me?”

  “I want everything with you.”

  She stared over his shou
lder, her face like stone. Ten minutes ago, when she’d first seen him, she’d looked almost happy. “What happened?”

  “Fuck you. That is what happened.”

  He went from zero to sixty in less than a second. “If you tell me that once more, I’ll drag you into the nearest empty room, and I’ll do just that. I’ll fuck the ever loving hell out of you. Maybe if I give you a couple of orgasms, you’ll be pliant enough to shut your mouth and allow me to vindicate myself.”

  They weren’t dancing anymore but standing there staring at each other. Her expression was a beautiful combination of fury and desire because he’d made sure to speak in Russian so she’d understand every fucking word.

  “Excuse me. May I cut in?”

  They both turned to see Sheppard next to them, collected and full of all that control Alek seemed to have forgotten existed. Sacha tried to withdraw from his arms, but he held fast. He refrained from landing a crippling left to the lawyer’s square jaw only because he wouldn’t embarrass Sacha. And Eva, by association.

  “No,” he said bluntly. “I’m not finished with her yet, Sheppard. Go back and schmooze with your pals. If she absolutely insists, I’ll return her. Though that will be for her peace of mind only. I know she wouldn’t appreciate what people might say if she arrived here with one man but left with another.”

  He danced them away.

  “A-lek-zan-der! That was so rude,” she whispered fiercely, still in Russian. Why? So if they were overheard no one would know she was scolding him?

  Amazingly, he felt a spark of humor at that, and at how she’d stressed each syllable of his name. “He’s lucky I didn’t shoot him in the face for his gall.”

  Her jaw went slack as she gaped at him.

  “Nervy asshole. Who the fuck does he think he is to interrupt us?”

  “He is my b-boyfriend!”

  His fingers clawed into her hip involuntarily. “Really? That was your implication earlier today, but you couldn’t quite get the words out. Now I see why. They didn’t sound at all convincing. Do you love him? Does he worship you the way I do? Do you look into his eyes while he’s buried deep in your body and know you’re where you belong? Does he spread you wide, open you up, and watch with utter fascination as you come apart for him? Does he celebrate that brief moment of complete satisfaction, and then take his time putting you back together again? Has he convinced you yet that you’re the reason his heart beats?”

  Her golden gaze became luminous. “How can you be such an awful person?” she whispered. “I do not understand how you can stand here and say these things to me? You should feel such shame. I am ashamed for you, Alekzander.” She pulled clean out of his arms and left him in the middle of the dance floor, where he was left to wonder what was so shameful about the way he loved her.

  He stood there and watched her disappear into the crowd. Hated that she was capable of leaving him. That it didn’t pain her, cripple her, to walk away. As it would have him.

  He barely reacted when his arms were suddenly full of female again. He looked down into his cousin’s concerned sapphire eyes.

  “Dance with us?” Eva said, her tone as kind as her smile.

  He looked around for Gabriel, the hair on his nape tingling with a whole lot of I-don’t-think-so. Was his friend so concerned for him that he would…?

  The big Italian was at the edge of the crowd, drink in hand, Quan and Jak at his sides. His eyes were hooded, trying not to show the sympathy he was feeling.

  Alek appreciated that. “You meant you and the baby.”

  Eva laughed, sounding a little breathless. “Yes. Gabriel isn’t overly concerned about what others think of him, but even he would have a problem with something like that.”

  “No shit.”

  She grew serious as they began moving in a slow circle. “Would you like a woman’s point of view?” she asked before clearing her throat and pulling in a slow breath. She flashed a quick smile as she drew in another lungful.

  Figuring it was the pregnancy and dancing combo, he gave her a helpless shrug. Across the way, Markus caught his eye with a thumbs up. He nodded and looked around for Sacha. She was back at Sheppard’s side. Anton, Alek was pleased to see, was ten feet away from them. He nodded at Alek as if to say “she’s covered.” Guy needed a raise.

  “I should have waited until Markus found a private room before I approached her. I didn’t because when she saw me, she looked as if she was happy to see me. Couldn’t resist dancing with her. But once I got her out here, shit, she was hating on me worse than ever.”

  “She’s probably struggling because she loves you but hates what she thinks you did.” Eva blinked and shook her head in a manner that had Alek narrowing his eyes on her. He might have thought she was tossing her hair over her shoulder, but the dark mass was up in a twist of some sort. “Do you find it hot in here? I’m hot.” She glanced around and fanned herself for a second, smiling when she saw he was watching her. The expression seemed strained. And was it him, or was she leaning more heavily on him than she’d been a second ago? “You know, I thought I hated Gabriel a time or two before it became apparent I couldn’t live without him.”

  “Yeah,” he murmured distractedly. “That’s understandable.” He started in surprise when he felt a tiny nudge on his abs. He looked down to where their midsections couldn’t help but touch. “Did he just kick? I could have sworn he just gave me one for insulting his old man.”

  She patted her belly, looking proud. And ill.

  “Are you okay, Eva? You had a busy day today.”

  “I’m good.” She pinned a smile and animatedly gave him the short version of her day.

  Call him a dick, but he couldn’t help but think she’d overdone things. No wonder G kept glaring at her.

  As inconspicuously as he could, he danced them through the crowd. By the time they were a few feet away from Gabriel, Alek could clearly see a sheen of sweat on Eva’s forehead, and she had a steady tremble running through her limbs. He locked eyes with her husband and gave him a severe frown as he tipped his chin down at Eva. Gabriel was beside them before he could blink.

  “All done?” he said, gently extracting her.

  “Yes.” Eva moved straight into her husband’s embrace. She appeared almost intoxicated. “I think he’s good now.”

  “Hey, did you drink the juice I brought you earlier? Or eat the fruit Jak left at the table?” Jak pulled a chair over so Gabriel could place her in it. They were against the wall, so at least they were out of the way of any foot-traffic. G squatted in front of her and bobbed his head to hold her swinging gaze.

  She was taking those deep breaths again. “Forgot. I think— Uh, I had— Dunno. I feel weak,” she murmured, her voice faint. “And shaky. Really shaky. I hate this.”

  As a few people craned their necks to watch, Quan disappeared with a quiet curse. Alek felt alarmingly clueless until he heard Gabriel’s next question.

  “Did you bring your glucose meter? Eva? Did you remember to bring it?”

  Before she could answer, Quan was back with a small black evening purse and a tall glass of orange juice. He shoved the bag at Gabriel and carefully took Eva’s hand to curl her fingers around the glass. He held it with her because the shake in her arm would have had the liquid sloshing over the rim. She took a drink.

  “Another,” Quan directed as Gabriel withdrew the needed supplies from Eva’s purse and pricked the pad of her pinkie on her free hand.

  She had more juice. “I can do that, Gabriel. Just give me a second to get my head on right.”

  “Is everything okay, sir?”

  Quan looked up at the older woman when she was ignored by everyone else. She was dressed the same as the other staff but had a nametag that marked her as a manager.

  “Her sugar is low. She’ll be fine in a few minutes. Thanks for your concern.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Gabriel raised his head from reading the monitor, his eyes clouded with fear and anger. The manager left without another
word, as did the few people who’d been trying to see around the wall of muscle surrounding the patient. Guess diabetes wasn’t interesting enough to linger over. Or maybe it was Gabriel’s attitude that caused them to scatter. He was glaring at his wife as he tapped the juice glass for Quan to raise it again. He put the meter back into her bag.

  “Three-point-eight, Eva?” he gritted out, his jaw set and locked. “You can consider this your notice. You’ve just been locked out of your office until we get a fucking handle on this.” He muttered a few curses under his breath, switching to Italian, but despite his upset, his big hand was nothing but tender as it stroked the side of her belly.

  “I think you must be rubbing off on him.” In direct contrast to Gabriel’s, Quan’s tone was soothing as he tipped the glass at her lips again. “If you weren’t loopy, you might even be proud of him because his reaction is dialed way down. One more. That’s a girl.” Eva didn’t seem to be paying any attention to him—her loosely focused eyes were on Gabriel. “Though I suppose we shouldn’t praise him until we make it to the car and all the witnesses have disappeared, hmm? All done. Good girl.” He placed the empty glass on the table and looked at the Patek Philippe on his wrist. “Couple more minutes and you’ll be good as new.”

  “Move it, Nurse Betty,” Gabriel grumbled as he rose and rather affectionately elbowed Quan out of the way. He leaned in, and without much effort, lifted his wife from the chair. He curled her into his chest, and if there was anything that would have proven Eva wasn’t herself, it was her allowing her husband to carry her out of a room filled with women she dealt with on a professional level every day. She didn’t make a peep. She simply laid her head on that block of a shoulder and closed her eyes—trusting she’d be cared for. It was a beautiful sight.

  “Get us a car,” Gabriel said to Jak, who gave a clipped nod and took off with his phone pressed to his ear.

  “No need.” Lucian appeared and waved Jak back before he could get far. “Mine is already at the curb. It can take you where you need to go. What’s wrong?”