by Roxie Rivera
About me. It had to be me. There was no other reason for it.
Backing away from the door, I took three steps, whirled around—and slammed into Ivan's chest. Ice cubes rattled in the container he held and spilled onto the carpet beneath our feet.
"Hey!" he said softly and steadied me with one big hand. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" He kicked aside the ice cubes so I wouldn't trip over them. "You knocked into me pretty hard." His gaze dropped to my stomach.
Did he know about the baby? "I really am okay."
Behind me, the irritated voices grew louder. Ivan's expression turned dark. He put a hand at the small of my back and urged me forward. "Come. I'm sure Erin would like some company while she watches that fashion reality show she loves so much."
Not at all surprised by his kindness or his urge to protect and shield me, I let him lead me away from the scene in the suite that I simply couldn’t stomach to hear.
And yet…
I had to know.
"Ivan?"
He glanced down at me. "Don’t ask, sweetheart."
"I am asking. I want to know."
He didn't answer until we had passed two more doors. "It's not you, Bianca. It's old ideas. She likes you."
"But?"
"But she doesn’t want him to marry you." He hesitated again, and I could hear his teeth grinding together. "It would be embarrassing for her to explain to their friends."
The air rushed from my lungs. Pain clutched at my heart.
Ivan's hand slipped from the small of my back to me hip. He gave it a gentle, friendly squeeze. "Don't let this upset you. Not now. Not when…" He looked at my stomach again. "It doesn't matter to Sergei. You understand? He loves you. This is all that matters now."
"I know he loves me, but I also know that family means so much to him. How do I ask him to choose between us?"
"You don't." Ivan pressed me forward toward the suite he shared with Erin. "He can have both of you. It won't be easy for him, but things worth having rarely are."
We reached his suite, and he fished the key out of the pocket of his chinos. He opened the door and led me inside. "Erin, look what I've brought you."
She grinned up at me from the sofa where she was curled up in her pajamas. "Bianca! Come sit." She patted the space beside her. "You can help me make fun of these awful skirts they designed."
Kicking off my shoes, I joined her. Sure enough, there were some truly ratchet skirts hanging off the models who moved down the catwalk. Ivan brought Erin a glass of pink champagne, her favorite as I well knew, but he brought me a cup of hot tea. He took the corner spot near Erin and sipped at the champagne his wife preferred. Like a rabbit, he wiggled his nose as the bubbly bite saturated his mouth. I almost laughed at the sight of big, scary Ivan drinking pink champagne.
The show was nearly over when there was a loud knock at the door. By then, Erin was two flutes down but Ivan had long set aside his first one. He answered the door, and I stiffened at the sound of Sergei's voice. He trailed Ivan into the suite and shot me a look of utter consternation. "You didn't come back. I was worried."
"Sorry. I ran into Ivan, and he invited me over to visit with Erin."
"Would you like a drink?" Erin gestured to the bar. "I promised Ivan an action movie after my show. You're welcome to join us."
"No, thank you. My family is waiting."
"Oh! Right." Erin glanced at me with confusion. Whatever she saw on my face made her frown slightly. Tomorrow she would no doubt get the truth out of me.
Setting aside my cup of tea, I rose from the sofa and slipped back into my shoes. "Did Vivian text you?"
"About Thursday?" She nodded. "It sounds like fun. Will your—er—Sergei's mom be joining us?"
"No," I said softly, certain hell was sure to freeze over before she agreed to be seen with me in public.
"Oh. Well…."
I gave a little shake of my head. "I'm going out tomorrow. Give me a call if you want to go."
"Sure."
I patted Ivan's arm as I walked by him. "Good night."
"Good night, Bianca."
Sergei grasped my hand, his fingers warm and soothing around mine. When we were out in the hallway alone, he gently pressed me up against the wall. He boxed me in with his huge body, planting his hands on either side of my head, and peered intently into my eyes. For a long moment, we said nothing. When he spoke, it was with passion. "I love you, Bianca."
I put my hands on his chest and rose on tiptoes to press my lips to his. "I love you, too."
He caressed my face. "Whatever you heard, it means nothing. She'll come around eventually."
I swallowed nervously. "Did you tell her about the baby?"
His jaw visibly clenched. "I did."
"And?" I could scarcely squeak out the word.
"She congratulated us."
I found that hard to believe. "But?"
"But nothing, Bianca. She's happy for us. She's happy about the baby."
He was lying to me, but I couldn't be angry with him. I knew why he was doing it. In a way, I loved him all the more for trying to spare my feelings.
"Let's go to bed. It's been a long day. I'm sure you're tired."
"I am."
He gathered me close and led me back to our room. My heartbeat thundered as we entered our suite but slowed when I realized the main living space was empty. Not wanting to have a weird run-in after that blowup between mother and son, I didn't linger in the living room. Once inside our bedroom, I made quick work of removing my makeup, brushing my teeth and slipping into a nightgown. Sergei joined me not long after and slid into bed behind me.
Not surprisingly, he curled up against my back and pressed loving, tender kisses along my neck and cheek. He embraced me with his strong arms and ran his hands along my curves. Though I enjoyed the heat of his touch and felt the first stirrings of need deep within my core, I knew I wouldn't be able to relax with his family across the hotel suite. Thinking of the fight he had had with his mother cooled my ardor.
Reaching back to pat his hip, I whispered, "Not tonight."
*
"Not tonight."
Sergei froze with shock. It was the first time Bianca had ever denied him. He wasn’t angry or upset, but it stunned him. He tried to convince himself it was fatigue from her pregnancy, but he knew better. He suspected Ivan had overheard his argument with his mother and told Bianca some of it. Ivan wouldn't have told her the worst parts. He was too gentle with women to make her cry or upset her, but he would have been truthful with Bianca.
"I'm sorry." Her voice was faint and small in the darkness of their room.
Holding her closer, he nuzzled his nose to her neck and bit down gently on that spot there that made her moan. His teeth raked the sensitive patch before sucking it hard. She shivered in his arms and made a pleasured sighing sound. He brushed his tongue over the spot he had teased and kissed the shell of her ear. "Don't ever apologize for saying no. I shouldn't be so demanding of you, especially not now."
"I like it when you're demanding," she admitted. "I like knowing that you want me."
"I do want you. All the time," he added with a quiet chuckle. "Just thinking about your soft mouth or this perfect ass of yours," he squeezed her plump bottom, "makes me hard." He peppered noisy kisses on her cheek. "But I'm not a caveman. I can wait."
She rolled over in his arms and burrowed her face between his neck and shoulder. Clinging to him as if she feared he might disappear, Bianca ran her fingers through his hair. Inside he was all twisted up with frustration and disappointment. Not with Bianca. Never with Bianca. In this mess, she was totally innocent.
Stroking her back and hair, he held her as she drifted off to sleep. Breaking the news to his mother that he planned to marry Bianca and marry her very soon had gone about as well as he had expected. She liked Bianca and respected her as a businesswoman and a designer. He suspected his mother was more grateful than words could
even describe for the way Bianca had saved and freed him.
But the taboo of crossing that line to marry her wasn't one his mother could accept so easily. In time, she would come to love Bianca as much as he did. Of that, Sergei was certain. Until then? He had to keep the peace between the two women in his life who meant everything to him.
Because on that account he had been very clear with his mother. He would not allow her to disrespect Bianca or show her unkindness. After everything she had done for him and the love she had gifted him, Bianca deserved to be treated like a queen. His hand moved from her hip to her belly. Soon it would be round and heavy with his baby. No one would be allowed to upset her. No one.
Eyes closed, Sergei blew out a noisy breath and hugged Bianca tighter. Not wanting to think about the ugly fight, he thought about the pretty little girls he had seen running around the hotel lobby. In his mind, he conjured up a child who was everything he loved in Bianca and liked in himself. The image he created soothed the irritation that gripped his gut. That smiling face was worth all of this trouble.
Chapter Six
"You look amazing," Sergei breathed with awe when I stepped out of our bedroom on Friday evening.
I had chosen a cocktail dress in the deepest sapphire shade of blue. The design had a slight wraparound effect with a tucked pleat that sat on my left hip. It accentuated the curve of my waist while nipping in my big hips. Unable to stand my usual body shapers right now, I was glad for the structure of the dress and the no-cling fabric that glided over my lingerie.
Sergei hated the spandex and Lycra body shapers anyway. He always growled when he discovered them under my clothing. To him, they were sheer blasphemy. Given the chance, he probably would have tossed them all into the trash. He just didn't understand that sometimes a girl needed some full-coverage support.
"Thank you." I held up the necklace I wanted to wear. "Can you help me?"
He took the necklace and stepped behind me. I had styled my hair up tonight so he plenty of space to work. His fingers were surprisingly agile despite their size, and he fixed the clasp easily. Never one to pass up the chance to tease, Sergei dropped ticklish kisses on the exposed line of my shoulders and throat. He inhaled slowly and let loose a low groan. "You smell fucking good tonight."
Before I could respond, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. Galina had entered the living area just in time to see her son nuzzling up against me. I held my breath and waited for a look of censure, but it never came. She smiled at us, and it seemed genuine enough. Despite that argument her first night in London, she had been kind toward me. She was trying to accept me so I offered her the same courtesy. Earlier that day we had lunched with Yuri and Lena. It had gone well. We weren't best friends, but with time, anything was possible.
Sergei pressed a lingering kiss to my temple before crossing the room to speak with his mother. I gathered up the items I wanted for my clutch and slipped them inside. Vladimir found me getting a bottle of water at the minibar. He took the bottle from me and cracked open the top before handing it back to me.
"Thanks, Vladimir." I sipped the cold liquid and hoped it would settle my stomach.
"Vova," he corrected. "We're friends, yes?"
"Yes." I grinned up at Sergei's younger brother. With his wicked sense of humor and deep belly laugh, he reminded me of my brother Perry. It hadn't taken us long to become friends.
"Here." He handed me a small pack of gum. "I found this when I went out to buy black socks. It will help."
I stared at the ginger gum and felt utterly touched that he thought about me. "Spasibo, Vova."
He laughed and playfully tapped my cheek. "We'll have you speaking Russian in no time."
"I don't know about that. I'm pretty terrible at it."
"You'll learn. You have a whole lifetime ahead of you."
In that moment, I felt truly welcomed and accepted by him. A whole lifetime with Sergei? I can't imagine anything better.
We took two cabs to the art gallery. By the time we arrived, the show was kicking off and soon in full swing. We slipped in and out of the milling crowd and took our time moving around the perimeter of the elegantly lit space to enjoy Vivian's paintings. It was easy to see that Vladimir and Sergei didn't particularly understand the message in her art, but they enjoyed it all the same.
Galina, on the other hand, seemed deeply moved by some of the pieces. The ones that were more sobering and haunting held her attention the longest. We ended up standing shoulder to shoulder in front of one particular mixed media painting. A woman hesitated at an intersection of streets. A 3-D effect made it seem as though one street headed down into a shadowy abyss while the other continued straight ahead. The buildings on the straight and narrow street were reflected upside down in the underground path—the underworld.
The message wasn't lost on me or Galina. Sergei's mother exhaled slowly. "She has much to say."
"Yes, she does." Glancing around the room, I found Nikolai and Vivian chatting with Niels and a couple I didn't recognize. Thrilled and relieved that her husband had finally arrived in London, I studied husband and wife. Nikolai's arm curved protectively around her waist. For the first time in weeks, Vivian smiled with genuine happiness. The gorgeous sunburst jewelry glittered under the bright lights of the gallery. Whatever was going on in the background of their lives, the couple seemed to have set it aside.
"Who is that man?" Sergei's gruff voice rasped in my ear. Dipping down to whisper, he shared his body heat with me and surreptitiously gestured toward a far corner of the gallery.
My gaze traveled to the spot he had indicated. My eyes widened with surprise as I discovered Erin talking to a familiar but wholly unexpected face. "That's Teague."
"Teague?"
"Jackson Teague. He's a big time international business lawyer. He works at one of those high-class firms in downtown Houston. He went to school with my brother. They played baseball together. Actually I'm pretty sure Teague dated Erin for about a year when they overlapped at Rice together."
Sergei stiffened, and I knew what he was thinking. We both tensed up as Ivan weaved his way through the crowd to join his wife and the handsome lawyer. Erin wasn't the least bit interested in Teague, but I could read the attorney's intentions clearly, even from this distance. The look of contempt when Ivan arrived at Erin's side couldn't be missed. When Teague didn't take the hand Ivan offered, I started to worry. When the lawyer dared to kiss Erin's cheek and slip her his card, I expected the worst. Oh, dear.
When Sergei made a move to intervene, I touched his arm. "No. Ivan won't make a scene. See? Erin is handling it."
Once Teague was out of sight, Erin tore the card into four pieces and stuffed it inside her full champagne flute. Her hand gently stroked the back of Ivan's neck. He visibly relaxed. Their foreheads touched together, and she whispered lovingly to him. For all his confidence and skill as a fighter, it was clear Ivan still harbored doubts about his ability to make her happy. He loved her so much, and she absolutely lived for him. A childhood filled with neglect and pain hadn't made it easy for the big fighter to trust or believe in himself.
Certain that all was well there, I grasped Sergei's hand and tugged him along to the next painting. We ran into Yuri along the way and spoke briefly with him. Lena was in full PR mode tonight. In a no-nonsense but vampy black dress and gold jewelry, she maintained control over the event, skillfully guiding the journalists and intercepting the ones she deemed troublesome. I didn't know how she managed to move so quickly and gracefully in those sky high heels.
Lena's gaze narrowed as a blonde woman approached Vivian. Something about the woman seemed to set off Lena's internal radar. She slipped in front of the woman before she could reach Vivian and Nikolai who had their backs turned as they talked to Sergei's mother and brother. I watched with amusement and a tinge of awe as Lena arched one winged brow and shook her head. She stepped into the woman's personal space. Whatever she said hit its mark. Red faced and lips pursed, the wom
an spun on her heel and left the gallery.
When I glanced at Sergei to ask him if he recognized her, I saw the glint of panic in his eyes. "Who is she?"
Sergei put his hand between my shoulder blades and guided me to the next painting. "She's not important."
"Sergei." I stopped walking and stared up at him. "Who. Is. She?"
He ran his tongue against the inside of his lower lip. Reluctantly, he answered me. "She's the woman that Nikolai was expected to marry."
My stomach dropped. "What?"
"He never… It was long before Vivian ever came to work at Samovar and things started to get interesting between them. Nikolai never loved that woman, and she couldn't stand him. It was all arranged between her father and the big boss out of Moscow. She came to Houston for graduate school. They were supposed to get close…"
"But?"
Sergei slid his arms around my shoulders and helped me around another couple. "But she fell in love with someone else and Nikolai helped her escape."
"Escape? Where?"
"Houston and her father," he said. "I don't know where. I didn't even know she was back."
"Do you think Lena knows? Because she just tossed her out on her backside."
"I'm sure she knows."
"Yuri?"
"Probably." Shaking his head, Sergei breathed deeply. "But no more of that. I want to talk about us."
"Us?"
"Yes." He reached into the pocket inside his suit jacket and retrieved a key that he used to unlock a door hidden behind a column and potted plants. Surprised, I nevertheless followed him inside the back room of the gallery. He led me through another door that opened into a small stairwell that took us to the roof.
"What's up here?"
"It was hot inside. I thought you might like to get some air, and the view is beautiful."
It was entirely innocent explanation, but I wondered if that was all this was. He held my elbow and gently guided me across the terrace. The gallery must have hosted functions up here because the space was completely decked out with outdoor furniture and twinkling lights strung up to illuminate the seating areas.
