Page 2

Chapter 2

Nik

I can’t stop staring at the woman in the dangerously distracting dark velvet dress.

Sipping my whiskey, I try to concentrate on the museum director’s speech, but it’s pointless. My gaze drifts to her again and again, as if irresistibly drawn by gravity’s pull.

That dress should be illegal.

And I know a thing or two about illegal things.

As she glances around hall admiring the decorations, I admire her. Her dark hair, artfully piled atop her head, temptingly exposes her neck. I wonder what she smells like.

She turns around, scanning the room, and I choke on my drink.

Mercy .

I struggle to suppress my cough—her dress is backless.

My gaze drops to her feet, caught by the flash of red beneath the hem of her dress. I don’t usually give a damn about women’s fashion, but those shoes—Louboutins, of course—grab my attention and don’t let go. All I can think about is her wearing nothing else, the delicate heels digging into my back as I fuck her senseless. The straps wind around her ankles like bindings, taunting me, daring me to come closer.

Crystal chandeliers bathe her in their soft glow, and I can’t help but imagine what it’d feel like to run my fingers over that beautiful, mesmerizing stretch of skin.

I try to catch her eye, but she’s lost in thought. She doesn’t notice me at all, which makes me smile.

The most influential people in the country are here tonight. There isn’t much they wouldn’t say or do for a few moments of my time. But this hypnotic woman doesn’t seem to know who I am. She certainly doesn’t realize she has my undivided attention.

Her careless indifference doesn’t concern me in the slightest. I know how to get what I want. One does not rise from the direst, most hopeless parts of Russia to reach the highest rank of the bratva by being shy.

Over the years, I’ve been many things. Most of them are, frankly, no good. I’m not ashamed to admit it. Unsure of myself, however, isn’t one of them.

I’ve never been afraid of a challenge. To be honest, it’d be a nice change from the wide-eyed, yes-sir girls I meet too often nowadays.

Truthfully, since the Forbes 400 list came out a few months ago, I’ve grown increasingly bored with the women in my life. It’s been too long since I’ve come across one so refreshingly uninterested in me.

It doesn’t hurt that her eyes shine brighter than the Flame of Mir under the dim glow of the overhead lights. Are they dark brown or deep blue? I can’t tell from this far away.

Before the night ends, this woman will be mine.

Any other outcome is unacceptable. Unthinkable.

Enjoying my drink, I lean against the wall, plotting my strategy carefully. The director's speech will be over soon. I’ll introduce myself then.

I only half-listen as the man almost reverently describes everything he believes makes my most treasured possession, the Flame of Mir, so special.

The director has his facts right for the most part. The Flame of Mir is unquestionably the largest red diamond ever unearthed, and red diamonds are the rarest of all diamonds. But he doesn’t know any of the things that make it truly unique.

For instance, he is unaware that I personally dug it out of the ground many years ago. He couldn't possibly understand how much that discovery meant to me and how it completely altered the course of my life.

He doesn’t know that I wouldn’t be a multibillionaire or the pakhan of the bratva if I hadn’t found the massive blood-red gem in the Siberian Mir mine over ten years ago.

Like my identity as the owner of the diamond, these are secrets I only share with a handful of people. That’s how I handle my affairs. A long time ago, I learned the hard way not to trust too easily. I’m as careful with it as I am with the safety of my diamond.

It occurs to me then that I know absolutely nothing about the beautiful stranger who has captivated me tonight. An unsettling realization, to say the least, since I personally vetted everyone in attendance this evening.

Well, not exactly personally. I have people for that, of course.

But I went through the guest list and reviewed dossiers on all notable guests and everyone I didn't know. If her face had been in the mix, I'd remember.

I can’t say I’m surprised to learn there are party-crashers among us tonight. That’s what you get with such a highly anticipated, star-studded event, and the Flame of Mir is always the subject of great curiosity.

Of course, with a face befitting an angel—and a body made for sin—this woman had no troubles sweet-talking the security guards into letting her sneak in to join the festivities.

I force myself to stop gazing at the object of my sudden fascination for a second to search the room for a specific someone. A moment later, I spot Dmitri Ivashkov, my favorite shestyorka , leaning against an adorned column in a darkened corner. Vetting tonight’s guest list was his responsibility. As the leader of the bratva and the somewhat anonymous owner of the world’s most valuable diamond, it was up to me to ensure no one here was a threat to the Flame or my organization.

Dmitri finally realizes I’m glancing his way and walks over to me.

With unconcealed amusement, I watch as women, young and old, discreetly—or not so discreetly—gawk at Dmitri. As always, he pretends not to notice the attention he effortlessly attracts from the opposite sex. Tall and athletic, he cuts a striking figure in his tuxedo, even when he won’t stop runnings his fingers through his dark blond hair.

As usual, I’m struck by how proud I am of the remarkable man he’s become. For many unfortunate reasons, I’m one of the few who have been around long enough to see him grow up. His mother—God rest her soul—would be proud of him, too.

Once Dmitri reaches my side, he smirks at me, cockily raising an eyebrow as if asking, you called? His petulance would land anyone else in my bratva into considerable trouble, but I let him get away with a lot—probably too much.

“Do you see the brunette in the dark dress next to my diamond?” I ask him.

He gives me a sly look from the corner of his eye. “You bet I do. How could anyone miss her? And before you ask—I don’t know who she is. No, she isn’t on the guest list. Yes, I checked. One of the guards probably snuck her in.”

“I figured as much.”

Shrugging, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Well, I wouldn’t worry about her. We knew we’d have some party-crashers tonight. At least it isn’t Erin McGuire. Now, that would be a problem.”

I shoot him a warning glance. “The last thing I need in my life right now is another one of my men stirring up trouble with the Irish. Don’t bring up Erin McGuire. Ever. If I never hear that name again, it’ll still be too soon.”

“Interesting words coming from the man who invited her father to the party.”

“Vladmir’s right,” I say with a sigh. “One of these days, someone has to teach you a lesson or two about the value of keeping your mouth shut. Or respect for authority. I’m thinking it might be me.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll take a rain check on that. Indefinitely.” He has the nerve to wink at me.

As the director wraps up his interminable speech, inviting everyone to step outside for refreshments and music, Dmitri walks away, chuckling with no remorse.

I look for the woman I’ve spent most of the night studying from afar, but I have no luck locating her. She must be outside in the gardens. I don’t blame her. It’s too hot with all these people in the exhibition hall.

Eager to escape the sweltering room, I step outside, still searching for her. Instead, Maxim finds me.

“Nikki,” he says, handing me a drink. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

I happily accept the drink. Having Maxim back home is nice. Strange, but nice. It's been weeks since he came back from Russia, yet I’m still startled whenever I walk into a room and find him standing there. I do my best to hide my surprise and not let him notice it, but having him back on this side of the Atlantic still feels surreal.

He’s been my best—and sometimes only—friend for most of my life. Even before the bratva and the Flame of Mir, there was Maxim. And not much else, truth be told.

Once upon a time, he was the only person I trusted blindly. We had no secrets between us. Before Erin McGuire. Before he made me regret everything.

But none of that matters now—not anymore. The past is in the past. It’s time I make amends with Maxim. Somehow. No matter the cost, I’ll make it up to him for all he had to sacrifice for me and the bratva .

“Are you enjoying yourself?” I ask.

“Sure. Can’t complain, can I? Beautiful night, beautiful women. What more could a man want? I mean, besides not having to look at Patrick McGuire’s unsightly face, of course. It’s the damnedest thing—even after all this time, I can’t shake the feeling he’d look so much better if someone were to fire a few dozen shots between his eyes.”

The Irish family’s boss must sense our gazes on him because he grins at us, raising his glass in a mock toast. He doesn’t break eye contact with Maxim—as a matter of fact, he doesn’t even blink.

With his longtime rival a few yards away, it’s easy to see Maxim as the rest of the world sees him. In this instant, he’s every inch the avtoritet —the authority, the cold-blooded enforcer of the bratva . Even within our circles, Maxim’s name is feared.

“Maxim—” I say in warning, barely suppressing a sigh.

“I know, Nik. Trust me. I’ll play nice with the man. Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it for you.”

I study him with concern. A welcome breeze blows his thick brown hair over his eyes, but he doesn’t flinch as McGuire stares him down.

A particularly ominous feeling grows inside me, and I struggle to hide my frustration. “Listen, Maxim. It’s not like I love McGuire any more than you do. But going to war with the Irish family won’t make our lives any easier.”

“I know. You’re right—as usual. That’s why you are the pakhan while I’m… well, I guess I’m the guy who got sent to fucking Russia for thinking with the wrong head.” He laughs humorlessly before taking a healthy swig of his drink.

“Maxim—”

“Hey, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I fucked up, and you did the best you could. I owe my life to you. And believe me, after my long exile in that godforsaken place, I can’t wait to get back to living the rest of it. I’ve got so much left to do. I sure have a lot to make up for, and I’ve already wasted so much time. So I’m glad to be back. Really, I am. And I missed you, Nikki.” He slaps my shoulder.

“It’s good to have you back. Things just weren’t the same without you here.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. I mean, look at you. You seem to have managed pretty well in my absence. When I left, you were still making a name for yourself within the Seven Families. Now, none of these fuckers can touch you. You sure seem to have more money now. I bet there are more women, too.”

His striking blue eyes shine with humor, and, for a brief moment, everything between us is just as it’s always been. Before I can remind him he’s in no position to give anyone a hard time about women, I spot her from the corner of my eye. The woman. Instantly, I lose my train of thought.

She’s strolling about the garden, drinking from a glass of champagne. Her full lips are stretched into a pleasant, casual smile.

Maxim disrupts my reverie with a low whistle. “Damn. Who’s that?” he asks.

I reluctantly tear my eyes from her to glance at him. To my utter dismay, he’s unabashedly studying my woman from head to toe. Like me, he seems to like what he sees—a lot.

“As far as you and any other men at this party are concerned, she is out of bounds.”

Still shamelessly eyeing her, he shoots me a wide-eyed look, not bothering to hide his shock.

I tried to play it cool, but I might’ve come off as a little too possessive about someone who is, after all, a stranger. No wonder my childhood friend is surprised to see me act so territorial about a woman when I’ve never done so before in my life. Not in all our many years of friendship.

I can’t say I fully understand this perplexing behavior of mine any better than he does. But somehow, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I couldn’t handle seeing her in another man’s arms.

Mine. For all intents and purposes, she’s mine .

Luckily, few men on this earth would dare stand between me and what I want. And none would have the audacity to try to take what’s rightfully mine.

And she is mine. I won’t tolerate anything else.

“Uh-huh. Okay, then,” Maxim says slowly in a peculiar tone, staring at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “Listen, if you want her so bad, then what are you still doing here with me? Why don’t you go get her?”

“Oh, I will. In a moment. She’s leaving with me tonight. It’s as good as done.”

Soon, I’ll inform her of the same.

“Now, that’s more like it. That ’s the Nik I know and love. Well, that settles it then. I guess we’re drinking to your good health, after all. Godspeed and God bless you, my friend. Vashe zdorov ’ ye !” Winking at me, he cheerfully drains his glass at once.

I finish my drink, too, before setting the empty crystal tumbler down on a nearby table.

The woman walks among the guests, skirting around the edge of the dance floor while making her way to the back of the gardens.Perhaps for an illicit encounter with a lucky bastard who managed to get to her before me? If so, I feel sorry for the man. He stands no chance. I’ll happily destroy him if that’s what it’ll take to get this beauty all to myself.

A moment later, it becomes obvious she’s walking toward the service alleyway. Leaving so soon? I don’t think so. So I almost jog to catch up to her, dodging politicians and movie stars who try to get my attention in vain.

Suddenly, she halts by an empty table near me. She's looking around the gardens, cruelly robbing me of the chance to see her face.

Still, up close, I notice things that had escaped me earlier tonight. Her glossy dark hair, for example, has a distinct warm chocolate hue, and her long nails are painted blood-red.

Distracted by these details, I’m slow to notice we’re on a collision course. Before I can move out of her way, she crashes into my chest. Instinctively, I hold on to her to stop her from falling.

Her skin’s so damn soft.

With a gasp, she glances up at me, looking right into my eyes.

Fuck me .

Finally, I have an answer to my question from earlier.

Blue. Deep, dark blue.

Fuck . Me .

I’m a goner.