Page 18

O livia

W hen I wake, it’s with that groggy feeling I get if I sleep too long.

I open my eyes and blink as they adjust to the sunlight flooding the room.

Piotr is gone, but that doesn’t surprise me.

He made it clear he won’t be using our honeymoon to show me the sights of Paris.

Perhaps I should take revenge and spend a shitload of his money while he’s in meetings.

I read about a neglected bride doing that in a novel recently.

The trouble is he hasn’t given me a credit card I can take my anger out on.

Not that I’m mad at Piotr for combining our honeymoon with business.

I’m not comfortable enough with the man to want to be with him twenty-four/seven yet.

As I think about Piotr, I burrow my face into my pillow and groan in embarrassment, recalling how emotional I got earlier.

I was overwhelmed after sucking his cock because no matter how hard I try to banish the memory, I still remember how Dario ridiculed me after making me do that to him.

He called me a worthless whore, not even capable of giving a decent blowjob.

Piotr didn’t mock me for my amateur efforts.

He assured me he enjoyed what I did. I don’t think he’d have said that just to be nice.

Soothing egos isn’t his style. He must have enjoyed fucking my mouth.

At the time, I sensed he did, but the moment he came down my throat, doubt crept in.

I worried if he thought badly of me. Shaking my head, I decide to get a grip.

My husband’s approval shouldn’t matter this much to me.

I get up and take a quick shower, drying my hair before I dress.

The outfit I choose is mainly for comfort, but it’s still cute.

Blue jeans and a white crushed silk top will help me blend in with the crowd.

They’re also the only clothes the housekeeper won’t need to run an iron over before putting them in the closet.

I’m a terrible packer. Despite trying all the different internet hacks I’ve come across, everything ends up creased.

Anticipating I’ll spend a lot of time on my feet today, I slip on baby pink sneakers.

The outfit doesn’t scream rich American, and it certainly doesn’t suggest Bratva queen, but that’s intentional.

In New York, everyone knows who I am. Here, I can have a break from the wary recognition that follows me wherever I go.

When I’m ready to face whatever’s left of the day, I make my way out of the bedroom and along the corridors, following the smell of coffee until it leads me to the kitchen.

The room is tiny. It makes the two large males crammed into the small space around the table in the corner look faintly ridiculous.

I didn’t expect to find Piotr here. Perhaps he’s done for the day.

He and Jimmy aren’t talking to each other. They’re both staring at their phones. The empty plates in front of them tell me they ate a meal together. For reasons I can’t explain, that makes me happy.

Despite having his back to me, it’s Piotr who’s first to notice my presence. He rises from the table and walks the few steps across the kitchen to greet me with a kiss. He’s incredibly handsome in black slacks and a matching shirt. The angel of death vibe suits him.

“You didn’t sleep long,” he remarks.

“I didn’t?” I feel as if I’ve been out for hours.

“No, it’s only nine-thirty.”

“Wow.” I expected it to be past noon. “I thought you had to work.”

“I do. I was just about to leave.”

“Right.” Why does that disappoint me? I don’t want to spend the day with him.

“Yes, unfortunately, but I’m glad I saw you. We have dinner tonight with my business partners.”

“What time?”

“Seven-thirty. It’s upstairs in Sev’s penthouse. Depending on how long our meeting runs, you might have to meet me up there.”

“Okay.”

“You can handle that?”

I snort in disbelief. “Are you seriously asking if I can walk upstairs by myself?”

Piotr shakes his head. “No, I meant…”

“Yeah, I get it,” I interrupt him. I know what he meant.

He wondered if I had the nerve to walk into a virtual stranger’s apartment and enter a room full of people I don’t know by myself.

It’s not as if arriving alone at an event is new to me.

Piotr seems to have forgotten who the fuck I am, though.

That’s my fault for allowing him to see me during moments of weakness.

Now he’s questioning if I can handle basic socializing without him there to hold my hand.

“I’m a big girl, Piotr, used to big, scary men.

I can cope with anything that’s thrown at me. ”

“Of course.” He nods, then kisses my cheek. “Wear something stunning.”

“Show off your prize to full effect,” I snipe. “Got it.”

Piotr doesn’t react to the vitriol in my voice. He simply nods curtly before turning and walking away. Moments later, the front door closes, signaling his departure.

“He won’t play your game,” Jimmy says as I join him at the table.

“What game?”

“The one that feeds your victim complex.”

I scowl at that. I do not have a victim complex. “What do you mean?”

“You provoke a fight so the other person will come down hard on you and you can play the injured party. It’s the game you’ve played with your brothers your whole life.”

I pout as I reach for a piece of bread from the plate at the center of the table. I am guilty of doing exactly what he said, but I’m not happy about being called out on it and by Jimmy of all people.

“You’re meant to be on my side.”

“I am on your side, Livvy, always will be, but that doesn’t mean I won’t speak up when I think you’re going to blow it. You get away with this act with your brothers. Reznov won’t allow it.”

“So I should let him insult me and say nothing?”

“When did he insult you?” Jimmy asks. “Were you really so offended he checked you’d be okay with arriving at the dinner alone, or is it because he asked you to dress up because he’s proud of his new wife?”

“He isn’t proud of me.”

Jimmy arches his thin gray eyebrow. “You’re not giving him much reason to be right now, are you?

” He reaches across the table to pat the back of my hand.

“Look, Livvy, I know it’s not my place to say, but you’re a remarkable young woman, strong and capable.

But you love to revel in self-pity.” He affects a pout and mimics my voice.

“Poor me, I’m so hard done by. The men in my life all think I’m useless. ”

“The men in my life do think I’m useless.”

“You let them think that. Show Reznov you can be an asset, not a petulant brat who’s a drain on his energy.”

“Fuck, Jimmy, tell it like it is, why don’t you?”

He’s never spoken so bluntly before and I hate to admit it but I need to hear it. He tilts his head and smiles fondly at me. The corners of his mouth don’t quite meet since he was injured while protecting me. Even now, I feel a pang of regret over what happened that day.

“Your whole life you’ve got in your own way with your bratty behavior. Now’s the time to grow up. You know I’m right and you know I love you, so stop looking at me like I shot your puppy in the face.”

“You’re right.” I scrub a hand over my face. “I’ll do better.”

“Good girl.”

He gets up and pours me a cup of coffee, setting it down on the table. As he retakes his seat, I grab his hand. “And don’t ever think it’s not your place to tell me what’s on your mind. You’re important to me, Jimmy.”

He carefully slides his hand out from under mine. His eyes glisten and he looks away. It’s the most emotional I’ve ever seen him. He clears his throat.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Thought we’d go to Disneyland.”

Jimmy’s face drains of what little color it holds. I let him stew for a moment before laughing. “I’m just kidding.” Visiting a theme park might be fun, but not for him. “I just wanted to see your face.”

“Thank fuck. My happy place doesn’t involve princesses and talking fucking animals.”

It’s probably best not to ask what his happy place is.

“So what do you want to do, Liv?”

“I want to see the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe. I’d like to get a hot chocolate at Angelina’s, visit the Musée d’Orsay and the Louvre and I want to have a picnic in the Jardin de Tullieres. Oh, and some shopping on the Champs élysées, perhaps.”

“All in one day?” Jimmy asks doubtfully.

“Well, no, but I don’t know how long we’re here for.”

“Your husband said a week.”

Well, I’m glad he shared that information with someone. I hold back from making a snippy comment because Jimmy is right about me curbing my bratty behavior, outside of the bedroom at least.

“I’m starved. What did you eat?”

“I brought bagels. There’s a couple left if you want one.”

“Nah, I want something greasy. There’s got to be somewhere around here to grab breakfast, right?”

Jimmy nods. “Get your purse. Oh, I almost forgot.” He reaches into his pocket and slides a black credit card across the table. “Mr. Reznov asked me to give that to you.”

“Why didn’t he give it to me himself?”

“Well, either because he didn’t think he’d see you before he left, or because he thought you’d stamp your foot and accuse him of trying to buy you.”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “Okay, Jimmy, message received. I’m a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, you are.” He gets up from the table. “Grab your things and I’ll meet you at the front door.”

Pocketing the credit card, which I may use to buy a new dress for this evening, I head to the bedroom to fetch my purse.

Then I walk back along the corridor to the front door, which is open.

I find Jimmy just outside, talking to a man whose somewhat weathered face is familiar.

It takes a minute to place him as the driver who picked Piotr and me up at the airport last night.

I didn’t speak to him because I went out like a light the moment my ass hit the back seat of his SUV.

“Hi, it’s Marko, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Livvy,” I correct him. “Or Mrs. Rezanova, if you insist.”

“Ma’am,” he repeats with a polite nod. I guess he’s not going to loosen up anytime soon.

The two men walk ahead of me down the winding staircase and out onto the sidewalk.

It’s a glorious day. The sun is already hot, and the sky is clear.

A car is waiting at the curb. A brute of a man leans against the door.

His pose is casual, with his legs crossed, but his eyes scan the street as if he’s looking for someone to kill.

Even if I was a complete outsider, I wouldn’t mistake this man for anything other than Russian Mafia.

He fits the stereotype. Tall enough to dominate the NBA, he has broad shoulders and bulging biceps.

Several tattoos are visible beneath the neckline of his black shirt.

His severely cropped black hair and steely gray eyes add to the sense that this is a dangerous man.

“I am Vlad.” His clipped tone tells me he’s the taciturn type. “I will drive you.”

“Oh, I thought…” I wave a hand at Marko.

“I will drive. Marko guards you.”

“Wow, three men all to myself. It’s like my own reverse harem.

” I wince as I realize Jimmy is one of the three and I could never think of him that way, not that I’d consider sleeping with the other two, either.

Even if I found them remotely attractive, Piotr is as much brooding male as I can handle.

“What if I prefer to walk?”

Vlad shrugs. “We will follow.”

I’m not sure I like the idea of strolling along the boulevards of Paris with three men trailing me.

“How far is it to the Eiffel Tower?” I ask.

“About two kilometers.”

I have no idea what that equates to in miles. It doesn’t sound far, but I am hungry and it’s hot out, so I’ll maybe save the walking for when I tour the galleries and museums instead.

“Let’s take the car.”

Vlad nods. He opens the back door for me. I get in and Jimmy joins me while Marko takes the passenger seat.

“Can we stop somewhere for breakfast first? I need something seriously unhealthy.”

“I know a place,” Vlad confirms. “Bacon, eggs, sausage, as much as you like, very cheap, very delicious.”

Cheap isn’t a priority for me, but delicious is essential. “Okay, then, Vlad, I’m in your hands.”

I get my cellphone from my purse and snap a quick selfie to send to Piotr with the message, “Going to be a great day. Hope yours is too.”

I don’t add an emoji because my husband doesn’t seem like the type of man who’d appreciate a string of red hearts.

He’d probably view it as a sarcastic gesture, which I guess it would be since I don’t love him.

At least, I don’t yet. The day may come when my attraction for him grows into something deeper.

Until then, I’ll just have to enjoy him on a purely physical level and hope that’s enough.