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P iotr
O livia slept for most of our flight, waking only to dress in wide black pants and a white blouse before taking her seat for landing.
I watched her for hours, basking in her serenity.
My life is hectic with legitimate deals and Bratva business competing for my time.
It’s rare I sit back and enjoy a moment of stillness.
There were ways I could have occupied myself while Olivia was asleep.
A hundred emails awaited my response. But I couldn’t take my eyes off my woman.
There’s something about Olivia that makes me feel things I never have before.
I know I didn’t get the whole truth out of her about Dario Maroni and the message she received at the wedding, but I found myself unable to keep pushing her.
The way she sobbed over being called a slut told me all I needed to know about the photographs I have in my possession. It left her feeling worthless.
When I saw her tears, something stirred deep inside me. An instinct to protect this woman rose to the surface. I will allow no man to hurt her, not even me.
“What are you doing to me?” I murmur as I brush the hair back from her face.
She fell asleep again the moment we got into the car, but she doesn’t appear to be resting as peacefully as she did on the plane.
Her nose is scrunched up as if she’s grappling with some minor irritation.
I guess the back of a car, even one as luxurious as this, is not the most comfortable place to slumber.
Thankfully, the drive to Sev’s building, where we’ll be staying for the next seven days, will only take thirty minutes.
I have something planned for Olivia at the apartment, but I may have to put her straight to bed and surprise her in the morning instead.
As we drive through the city, I turn to glance out of the window. It’s still early, but already Paris is coming to life. Municipal workers sweep the streets and collect garbage. Vendors arrive at their stores to prepare for the day ahead. This is my favorite time, before the masses wake.
When Marko, the driver Sev has loaned me for the week, pulls up at the apartment, I get out of the car first and go around to Olivia’s side.
I carefully unbuckle her seatbelt and lift her into my arms. By some miracle, neither the sudden manhandling nor the whisper of cold air on her skin wakes her.
“Have our bags taken up to the apartment, but tell the housekeeper to leave the unpacking until this afternoon,” I tell Marko.
Sev’s building is an eighteenth-century apartment block with no elevator, so I carry her up the narrow staircase to the third floor where our accommodations are.
The apartment is below Sev’s penthouse. I don’t have my own place in the city, but that may change, depending on how much Olivia enjoys being here.
Paris is one of the few places I spend time that I don’t own a home in.
I have apartments in London, New York, Las Vegas, Florence, and Rome, as well as a villa in Majorca and a bungalow in Sri Lanka.
Buying a Paris pied-à-terre won’t make a dent in my bank balance, but it might be a worthwhile addition to my property portfolio.
As I step into the apartment and shut the door behind us, Olivia stirs in my arms. Her eyes pop open and she looks around.
“Damn,” she says sleepily. “I missed it.”
“Missed what?”
“You carrying me over the threshold.”
I furrow my brow in consternation. I didn’t realize she cared about those sorts of tradition. “Isn’t that just for our own home?”
Olivia shrugs. “I don’t know. I just wanted to…”
Her voice trails off. She doesn’t know why she wanted to experience the moment. I suspect she’s trying to create something romantic out of our union. It’s not a priority for me, but I guess I can give her that.
“You want me to take you outside and carry you back in?”
The suggestion is so absurd I can’t believe I’m making it, but Olivia’s face brightens with a huge smile. “Please.”
It’s impossible to deny her. As I open the door and walk back out into the corridor, Marko gets up from the seat where he’s posted himself to ensure nobody enters the apartment without our knowledge.
I shake my head to let him know he’s not needed.
Olivia reaches for the handle of the door and closes it.
“Okay, Mrs. Rezanova.” I open the door and enter the apartment once more. “Welcome home.”
“Thank you.” She stretches up to kiss me with her soft, warm lips.
“You liked that, huh?”
“It was perfect.” She wriggles to be let down and I carefully lower her to the floor. Her nose scrunches up. “Why am I Rezanova?”
“It’s the feminine form of my name.”
“Not Reznova?”
“No.” I purse my lips. “Don’t you like it?”
She shrugs. “It’s just odd that the names are different.”
“Well, you’re American, not Russian, so I guess if you prefer to be Mrs. Reznov, nobody will jail you for it.”
“No, I like Rezanova. I just didn’t get why that was the form my name would take.”
“It’s a different naming convention, I guess.”
Olivia giggles. “This is a banal conversation for a pair of newlyweds.”
I couldn’t agree more. “Yes, it is.”
Olivia looks around the hallway. It’s compact, with corridors leading off to the left and the right. There’s a mirror on one wall with a half-moon table beneath it. An arrangement of fresh roses has been placed on it, Sev’s idea, surely because it wasn’t mine.
“Where’s the bedroom?”
“Along there.” I motion toward the left. “But we can’t go there yet. I have a surprise for you.”
“What is it?”
“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.”
I usher her along the corridor to our right.
“I’m intrigued,” Olivia says, “but I should warn you now, I’m not really into diamonds. If you want to win my heart, it will take a country house and a dozen puppies.”
That’s not what I expected to appeal to her.
Everything I’ve seen suggests Olivia is all about fashion.
I already discerned she craves romance. Perhaps she also dreams of a life away from the spotlight.
It will be hard for her to achieve as my bride.
Perhaps that’s why she was resistant to the idea of marrying me.
She wanted something simpler than the world she grew up in.
“A dozen puppies?”
“Well, we can start with one. I like West Highland Terriers.”
I shake my head. Dogs are not my favorite animals. “Aren’t they yappy little brutes?”
“Only if you don’t train them right.”
“And you know how to train a dog?”
“I could learn.”
Realizing my wife could easily persuade me to buy her a puppy if this conversation continues, I decide to reveal her surprise. I open the door to the living room.
“Go on in,” I tell her.
She walks ahead of me into the living room and lets out a massive squeal that tells me I did the right thing. She runs across the room and launches herself into the arms of Jimmy Marrone, her bodyguard.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. “What’s going on?”
Jimmy gently sets her down on the floor and takes a respectful step back.
“Mr. Reznov asked me to continue working for you.”
“As my bodyguard?”
At his nod of confirmation, Olivia turns to me, an expression of sheer joy on her face.
My gesture in bringing Jimmy here wasn’t entirely altruistic.
I know I can depend on him to protect her with his life.
He’s already sacrificed a great deal for her.
His face, which may at one time have been handsome, is a ruin because he put her safety before his own.
He’ll keep her safe better than one of my men who’d only be doing it for their next paycheck.
Jimmy will make sure nothing happens to her because he loves her as if she was his own daughter.
He made that very clear when I interviewed him about coming to work for me.
The man’s loyalty is not to the Volantes, but to Olivia alone.
“This is the best news!” Olivia claps her hands together excitedly.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Displeasure radiates from my wife as she turns to me. She probably thinks I told him to be more formal in his relationship with her. I didn’t. My guess is he’s trying to show me respect.
“There’s no need for formality,” I tell him. “It would make my wife uncomfortable.”
“As you wish, Mr. Reznov.”
I nod curtly. The familiarity doesn’t extend to me. I hold my hand out, an instruction for Olivia to return to my side. She seems to understand the necessity to do as I ask when others are present and hurries over to me. She places her hand in mine.
“Liaise with Marko,” I tell Jimmy. The two men have already met. I asked Sev to send Marko to collect Jimmy from the airport so they could get acquainted. “My wife will wish to explore the city after she’s had some sleep, and you need to discuss security protocols.”
“Yes, sir.” The bodyguard nods respectfully. I don’t like many people, but he may be an exception. He has an old-school sense of honor. Everyone I spoke to about him had good things to say.
As he leaves, I take Olivia to the bedroom we’ll use for the duration of our stay.
“This is nice,” she says as she walks around the room.
It’s decorated in earth tones with an enormous bed in the center.
It has a padded headboard that extends halfway up the wall.
There are nightstands on either side of the bed and a dressing table with a mirror by the far wall.
A long, padded ottoman sits at the end of the bed.
I grin as I imagine Olivia kneeling on it while I plow into her from behind.
“Oh, our bags are here.” She notices the suitcases lined up at the door of the closet.
“Yes, the housekeeper will unpack them later.”
“That’s fine. Everything I need is in my overnight bag.” Olivia grabs a small leather bag from the top of the pile and heads for the only other door in here, which she’s correctly guessed is for the bathroom. “I’m going to go get ready for bed.”