Sergei, Volume 2

by Roxie Rivera

  "Mine?" Sergei couldn't hide his shock. He had never been anything more than a soldier in the organization. To be given something this big? It wasn't the usual way of things.

  "Yours." Nikolai spun his wedding band around his finger. "I trust you. It's that simple for me. It takes a lot for a man to earn my trust."

  Sergei held the boss' steely gaze. The message was broadcast loud and clear. So don't fuck this up or I'll fuck you up. Hoping Nikolai understood how much this meant to him, he said, "Thank you, boss."

  "You've earned it. I asked much of you when you were mine. You risked your life in that cage night after night and never complained. A good living for your family is the least I can do."

  Sergei swallowed hard. Before he could find a way to show his gratitude, Nikolai asked, "Did you hear about Ten?"

  "Yes." He didn't mention the part about Ten moving in with Ivan and Erin.

  "I've decided that he's going to take your place. He's going to be Vee's new guard."

  Considering the brutal way Ten had attended to the shadowy side of the family's business, Sergei figured Vee couldn't have been in more capable hands. Thinking of the many months he had spent as her guard and the years he had known her before that, Sergei respectfully warned, "She won't like him."

  "I'm not paying him to be her friend. I'm paying him to keep her safe." Then, with a slanted dip of his head, Nikolai asked, "Would you speak with him? You understand her. You know what she likes and what she needs from her guards. It will be easier for her if Ten understands her…quirks."

  Sergei chuckled softly. "Quirks? Sure, boss, I'll tell him all about her quirks."

  With a hint of amusement playing on his face, Nikolai said, "Perhaps not all of them. I don't want Ten asking for a job as a dishwasher or bus boy at Samovar instead."

  Thinking of how difficult Vivian could sometimes be, Sergei could only laugh.

  "They don't have to be best friends like you two were, but I want him to treat her with the same kindness that you always showed her. Especially now," Nikolai added softly.

  As far as Sergei knew, the couple still hadn't breathed a word about Vivian's pregnancy. The rumblings on the street about problems brewing between her father and the cartel he once served had everyone on edge. There were whispers that Maksim Prokhorov, the big boss out of Moscow had made a deal with Romero Valero to run guns and more in Guzman cartel territory. Not surprisingly the move was making everyone nervous. If the cartel wanted to hit back, they would start with Vivian—and then there really would be hell to pay.

  Kazimir returned with a blonde in tow. Sergei noticed the resemblance between the pair and figured this was the daughter. While her father wore a tailored three piece suit complete with pocket watch, she had chosen a slim-fitting black pencil skirt and emerald green top that made her pale blonde hair seem as white as snow. She had intensely blue eyes, the color as deep as the sapphires on sale in her father's store. He glanced at the nametag pinned to her shirt. Zoya.

  Although she spoke to Nikolai in perfect Russian, there was no mistaking that accent. Like Boy, she was American-born. Judging by the proud way her father smiled at her, she was the center of his world. When she studied the ring Sergei had chosen, she grinned approvingly. "Oh, Bianca will definitely love this."

  Stunned to hear Zoya talk with such authority on Bianca, he asked, "You know Bianca?"

  "She runs a wedding boutique, and I'm in the business of diamonds. We're at most of the same wedding expos and attend get-togethers for wedding professionals." She slipped the ring onto her pointer finger. "I had heard through friends that you two were dating. Congratulations."

  She seemed genuinely happy for them so he accepted with a smile. "Thank you."

  Nikolai clapped him on the back. "I have a meeting or else I'd stay to help you pick out the perfect stone." He glanced at Kazimir and Zoya. "They'll take care of you."

  "Yes, of course," the jeweler hurriedly assured. "Everything will be perfect."

  "Good." Nikolai gave instructions for the gifts he had commissioned for his wife and bid them all farewell. Sergei turned to wave at Kostya before giving his attention to the line of bright, shiny diamonds waiting for him on a black velvet tray.

  One by one, Zoya and her father went through the handful of stones they had selected. They explained how the diamonds were graded by color and cut and let him inspect them until he found one that he liked best. "I need this ring before we leave for London next week."

  "It's not a problem," Kazimir promised. "We've done much faster turnarounds than that."

  "We'll need her ring size," Zoya said as she tucked the diamond and the setting into a small envelope she had labeled with all of his details.

  Prepared for that, Sergei tugged his wallet from his jeans and retrieved the loop of dental floss he had wrapped around Bianca's finger while she slept that morning. "Will this work?"

  Zoya giggled when she took it from him. "Yes. This is actually perfect." Dropping the floss measurement into the envelope, she asked, "Would you like me to start on a sketch for the wedding bands? I've got one that matches this, but I think Bianca would like something a little thinner. Maybe with an inlay?"

  "I'd like to see some drawings when we get back from London."

  "I'll be sure to have some ready for you." She jotted some notes on an order form and turned it around for him to examine. The tip of her pen moved down the bulleted points of the store's policies and then she touched the estimated final price for the ring. Her pen slid a little lower to the discount they were giving him. It seemed almost too generous, but he wasn't about to argue. "Does this work for you?"

  "Yes." He took the pen and scrawled his name in the right spot. Zoya shook his hand, congratulated him again and then wished him a safe trip to London. As he left the jewelry store, he started thinking about what he would say when the time came to propose. He had a vague idea of the words he would use. It needed to be heartfelt but maybe humorous too. She would appreciate that.

  Back in his SUV, Sergei let his thoughts linger on the construction company and Ivan's offer. Nikolai had made good points about his future. At the gym, he would always be an employee. At the construction company, he could be the boss. There were strings attached to this offer though. Could he handle them?

  A sudden vision of a three a.m. phone call from Kostya or Ten requesting cement and the keys to a site hit him. Could he really slide out of the bed he would share with Bianca—with his wife and the mother of his child—to answer that call? To help them destroy whatever evidence needed to be destroyed and hidden away forever? Could he come home and shower and slide back into bed as if nothing happened?

  Chilled by the thought, he drove to the upscale assisted living community where Bianca's mother currently lived. She would be moving soon. At their barbecue on Saturday evening, Bianca's mother had surprised them by announcing she had closed on a house she would share with her two widowed sisters. It sat in a master planned community meant for independent senior living. Situated on a golf course, it had shopping nearby and hospitals too. He hoped she would be happy there.

  When he reached the front door of her apartment, he knocked and stepped back so she could see him through the peep hole. He waited patiently, fully aware that she moved slowly on the prosthetic leg she was still getting used to, and listened carefully in case she called for help. A short time later, he was greeted by Mona Bradshaw's smiling face.

  Even though she was puttering around her house, Bianca's mother was perfectly primped in white trousers and a red fluttery top. She wore gold bangles that jingled as she waved him inside. "Sergei! Come in, honey."

  The way she always spoke so kindly made him feel warm toward her. Even though she had known what he was the first time he had shown up on her doorstep with Bianca, she had never judged him too harshly. She had accepted him as he was and looked for the goodness in him. He silently prayed she wouldn't throw him out on his ass once he confessed what he had done.

  "How are y
ou?"

  "Good, good. You?"

  "Very good," he said and closed the door behind him.

  "Would you like something to drink? I was just about to have a glass of lemonade." She gestured for him to follow her. "Come into the kitchen with me."

  He followed her into the kitchen and took a seat at the small dining table near the bay window. Always nervous about her balance, he sat on the very edge of the chair and tensed his muscles. He was ready to pounce at the first sign of tottering, but she showed him how well she was doing in her rehab by easily obtaining two glasses from a cabinet and the pitcher of cold lemonade from the refrigerator.

  "Thank you." He accepted a glass from her and waited for her to sit and take a sip before having his first drink. He relished the sweet tartness and nervously licked his upper lip. "Bianca mentioned inviting you over for dinner tonight after your meeting."

  "That sounds nice. I'd like that."

  "Good."

  "Are you coming with us to the meeting?" She eyed him in a way that convinced him this was a discussion she had had with Bianca.

  Remembering the way he had completely screwed things up that morning, he gently turned down the invitation. "No, ma'am."

  "That's okay. When you're ready…"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Mona stared expectantly over her glass. He was reminded of how much Bianca favored her mother. Both women had perfected a strong gaze that made him want to squirm like a five-year-old who had been caught sneaking a treat.

  "Honey," she said with a laugh, "you look like you're about to tell me that you broke my windshield with a baseball." She spoke carefully, emphasizing the syllables and gliding over the consonant sounds that still gave her trouble after her stroke. "Whatever it is, just spit it out."

  He cleared his throat and sat up straighter. "I love Bianca."

  She smiled tenderly. "I know you do."

  "I'm probably not the sort of man you imagined her loving."

  "No," she agreed, "but you're the one she wants. You love her. You make her happy. That's all I want for her." She leaned forward. "What do you want for Bianca?"

  He thought of all the things he wanted for her. "I want to make her smile every day. I want her to know that she's loved and supported. I want to do whatever it takes to help her achieve her career dreams. I want her to feel protected and provided for in every way."

  "Just her?" Mona asked the question with a knowing lilt to her voice, and he gulped nervously. Rolling her dark eyes, she huffed with laughter. "Sergei, I'm not blind. My daughter might have thought that she covered herself well when she excused herself from the barbecue, but I know morning sickness when I see it."

  "It's my fault," he hurriedly said, desperate to deflect any blame from Bianca.

  "Sweetheart, I've been a widow a long time, but I still remember how babies are made. There's enough blame to share equally."

  "We want the baby. It's not the way it should have happened—"

  "It rarely is," she sagely replied.

  "I'm going to ask her to marry me. I would like to have your blessing. I think—I know—Bianca would like to have it."

  "Of course she has it!" Mona looked surprised that there was any doubt. "I'm not thrilled about this situation. I raised Bianca to be more responsible. But," she emphasized the word, "I know she'll be a wonderful mother. I think you'll be a good husband and father. If…"

  "If?" An invisible band squeezed his chest as he waited for her condition.

  "If you're done with all that mess you were in when we first met," she stated.

  "I am." He didn't give her the details. "It's done. That chapter of my life is finished." With a smile, he added, "The only boss I plan to serve is Bianca."

  She laughed. "Sounds like a good plan, but I'll warn you. She's a tough boss to please."

  "So I've learned."

  With a pleased sigh, Mona gestured to his lemonade. "Finish that, and then you can take me to an early lunch. I have some errands I need to run, too. Also I'll need you to find some strong boys like yourself to help me when it's time to move."

  Blinking with surprise, Sergei could only nod. He didn't dare tell her that he actually had plans for the rest of his day. The woman had just given him permission to marry her daughter and had reacted positively to the news that she was going to be a grandmother. "Yes, ma'am."

  With a playful wink, she leaned forward and patted his hand. "Welcome to the family, Sergei."

  * * *

  Of all the things I expected to find when I pulled up to my mother's apartment that evening, Sergei toting shopping bags from the back of his SUV to my mother's front door wasn't one of them. I parked my car and slid out of the front seat just in time to hear Mama remarking on his muscles and all the ways she could put them to use. Really?

  Sergei noticed me coming down the sidewalk and stopped to wait for me. That sexy smile of his made my belly do wild flips. He bent down to kiss me. Not wanting him to sneak away just yet, I tugged on the bottom of his shirt to keep him there a few seconds longer. When I finally let him go, he made sure to brush his lips against my forehead. "How are you feeling?"

  "Fine." I noticed Mama had already gone into the house. "Just some nausea, but I managed to keep it under control."

  "I'm glad to hear that." His hungry gaze moved over my outfit. The searing heat of it made my breasts ache. I squeezed my thighs together to ease the throbbing pulse there. "I think you wear these tight skirts to tease me."

  "Well, you'd better enjoy them while you can." I rubbed his hard chest and enjoyed the feel of muscle definition beneath my fingertips. "My days of hip-hugging skirts are coming to a close."

  A rumbling sound of dissent left his throat. He tilted his head to the side and studied my high heels. "What happened to wearing comfortable shoes?"

  "These are comfortable." They were my roomiest pair of pumps with a sensible heel. "Mostly," I added as an afterthought. Before he could comment on my choice of footwear, I turned my attention to the bags he held. There was only place that had all those stores under one roof. "Did she drag you to the Galleria?"

  "She needed to run some errands."

  Falling into step beside him, I insisted, "Shopping isn't such an important errand that she had to take you away from work."

  "It was nice to spend the day with her." Despite the heavy bags burdening his arms, he still held the front door open for me and let me pass first.

  Inside the apartment, I found my mother in the kitchen. "Mama, if you needed to go shopping, you should have asked me."

  "I was going to ask you." She kissed my cheek in a greeting. "But Sergei came by for lunch so I asked him instead."

  "Lunch?" I glanced back and forth between the pair. "You two had lunch?"

  "We went to Luby's." He placed her bags on the table. "I had never been there. It was tasty."

  I tried to imagine Sergei and my mother dining on chicken fried steak at Luby's. It was a comical picture, to say the least. "You've lived in Texas for more than five years, and you've never eaten at Luby's?"

  He shrugged. "Now I have." He glanced at his watch. "I should go." He stepped toward me and gave me a quick kiss. "Dinner?"

  I nodded. "We'll be home around eight."

  Mama held out her arms for a hug, and Sergei obliged. "Thank you for humoring an old lady."

  "It was no trouble. You have my number now. Call me if you need anything."

  I waited until I heard the front door close to interrogate my mother. "Okay, what was that about?"

  She brushed off my curiosity and started digging through her bags. "We had lunch. We shopped. It was no big deal."

  "No big deal? Mama, you've never gone to lunch or shopped with any of my boyfriends."

  "It's different with Sergei."

  I had to hear this one. "Because?"

  "Because he's the father of my grandbaby," she said matter-of-factly. Her coffee brown eyes almost dared me to deny it.

  My emotions warred within me. Shock,
fear and the slightest twinge of betrayal surged through me. "He told you."

  "Don't be too angry with him. He was trying to protect you."

  Feeling like a little girl and on the verge of tears at the thought of disappointing my mother, I whispered, "I'm sorry, Mama."

  Her face fell, and she opened her arms. "Sweetie, come here."

  Safe in my mother's arms, I burrowed into her neck and let some of the fear I had been feeling since learning I was pregnant escape. "Mama, I don't know the first thing about having a baby."

  "You'll learn," she assured me while soothingly rubbing my back. "You've got so much love in you. I'll be there with you." She hugged me tighter. "I'm always here for you."

  "I never wanted to embarrass or disappoint you, Mama. You taught me to be smart and responsible but—"

  "Baby, you could never disappoint me! After everything we've survived and all you've accomplished? No! You're the most amazing young woman I've ever known and I'm so proud to be your mother"

  Her kind words made me cry even harder. I pulled back and wiped at the tears that had spilled onto my cheeks. "You're not angry?"

  "Over a new baby in the family? Never!" She pushed my hair behind my shoulder. "You're a grown woman. I would have preferred that you had done things the right way but…" She smiled at me. "A baby," she whispered excitedly. "It's about time we started adding new members to this family instead of losing them."

  Thinking of my father and brother saddened me. They wouldn't be there to greet this tiny life growing inside me. A drunk driver and an angry, hateful white supremacist had seen to that. After all the pain our family had known, Mama was right. It was nice to have a new life to celebrate.

  "Go freshen up your face," she gently suggested. "We don't want to be late for our meeting."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  She touched me cheek. "It'll be all right, sugar. You'll see."

  Because my mother said it, I knew it had to be true.