Page 16

16

ROMAN

D imitry calls while I’m still contemplating a second round with Miss Lopez. She’s currently sprawled across my bed, her ass temptingly close to my hand. It’s unsettling how much I want to touch her.

“ Da .” I remember a moment after answering in Russian that Lucia speaks it just as fluently as I do, meaning my normal method of disguising business conversations is gone.

“I’m at Pillars.” I can hear the club noise in the background.

“What the fuck are you doing there?” I frown at the phone screen. Something is off if he’s calling this late. Dimitry dislikes Nikolai as much as I do. And he knows better than being seen anywhere near the kind of side business Nikolai runs out of his club.

“You know Abby, who works in the café? Lucia’s friend.”

“I guess.” I can see the dark dip where Lucia’s thighs meet beneath her ass. I trace one finger under a butt cheek, and she moans sleepily, shifting her thighs slightly, inviting my fingers to explore her lush crimson folds. The view makes me salivate. My dick hardens instantly.

“Yeah, well, Abby’s been dating the Cádiz striker. He told her to meet him here tonight. I came to... er... make sure she was safe.”

“So?” I’m only half listening now. My hand cups Lucia’s ass, and her hips tilt a little more. Is she already wet again? I’m ready as hell, despite our very recent and intense session.

“Wait.” Dimitry’s voice holds an edge of amusement. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Fuck off.”

My hand roams over one rounded globe of her delectable ass. He better get to the point fast.

“So the striker is in a VIP room. With the Cádiz manager, a couple of very shady-looking investors, and Nikolai. And, Roman, there’s something else.”

“What?”

Lucia shifts on the mattress and moans softly, pushing her ass against my hand, clearly wanting more. My cock jerks again.

“There’s a journalist in there with them. I wouldn’t have known who he was, but Abby recognized him. Apparently he’s photographed her a bunch of times. She says he’s a real creep, a freelancer who sells to the tabloids.”

“So he’s probably stuck to that footballer she’s dating.” My fingers stroke closer to Lucia’s creamy opening. “I don’t see why this is so important that you had to—”

“He’s been asking questions about Lucia, Roman.”

My hand stills. Dimitry suddenly has my full attention.

“Speak,” I snap.

“Apparently this guy has been lurking outside the café for a few weeks now. Abby thought he was waiting for her, but then he asked one of the kitchen boys what happened to the ‘other waitress.’ Abby thinks it might be Lucia the guy was snapping, not her. She didn’t want to scare Lucia by saying anything.”

Something fierce rips through my chest, sending a lightning bolt of anger into the pit of my gut. I stand up and carry the phone into the bathroom, out of earshot.

“And he’s in Pillars now?”

“Yup.”

“Don’t move. And make sure he doesn’t leave. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” I’m already stepping into the shower by the time I end the call. I turn the water on ice-cold to make my throbbing cock subside, already regretting the interruption to what was about to be a magnificent act two.

It’s probably for the best . I don’t want Lucia getting too comfortable in my bed. That isn’t part of our arrangement, after all.

My resolve almost weakens when I walk back into the room to find her propped up on an elbow, one rosy nipple poking through the curtain of soft curls falling over her shoulder, staring at me with wide topaz eyes and lips still swollen from my mouth. The way her eyes go smoky when I look at her doesn’t do anything to make the decision easier.

Frustrated, and more than a little pissed off that my one night alone with Lucia has just been rudely interrupted, I turn my back on her. “I have to work. And you need to go back to your own apartment. Get some sleep. You have an early start tomorrow.”

When she doesn’t answer, I turn to find her chewing that full lower lip and frowning. The fact that she’s still naked is really getting to me. “What?” I snap.

“I just...” Her voice trails off, and she drops her eyes. “Never mind,” she mutters, reaching for her dress.

I feel like an asshole. And I don’t have time for any of this.

“What?” I ask again as I pull on my shirt, eyeing her downturned eyes. “I warned you there was no emotional entanglement, Lucia.”

“I know that.” Her quiet dignity makes me feel even worse. “I just—if it wasn’t good, then you need to tell me what to do, so I make you happy next time.”

I’m momentarily stunned into silence.

She’s worried she wasn’t good enough?

I could almost laugh, except that it’s not remotely funny. I’m still slightly shaken by the intensity of being inside her.

There isn’t any comparison between sex with Lucia and... well, anything else, ever. It’s like comparing flying to space with taking the bus.

But there’s no way in hell I’m saying that to her. And again, there’s no time.

“I don’t give out scorecards, Lucia. And I don’t have time for this.” I nod at the elevator. “I’ll see you back to your apartment.”

She dresses without any further comment, but she doesn’t look at me, even when we’re standing in the elevator. Her hair is still down, the scarlet dress only loosely wrapped around her naked body, underwear balled up in her hand. I stand opposite her with my back to the wall. The knowledge that she’s only feet away, still wet and swollen from my cock, is a temptation that’s taking every ounce of control to deny myself.

The elevator stops at her floor, and she exits first. I walk at a safe distance behind her, trying not to stare at her ass, and wait while she opens her door. “Did you reset the code?”

She nods, still not looking at me.

“Don’t share that code with anyone.” She frowns, looks like she’s about to speak, but I cut her off. “I have security posted on this floor, so if you hear movement, that’s who it will be. Luis will pick you up in the morning. He’ll send the doorman up to your apartment to collect you. Don’t leave the apartment tonight, and don’t open the door for anyone other than the doorman or me, do you understand?”

Her frown deepens. “I didn’t realize I would be your prisoner.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“You’re not.” I don’t try to soften my voice. “We’ve just had a mild security breach, and I don’t need my team distracted by searching for you. Are we clear?” I barely wait for her nod before I turn away, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling that’s something like guilt as the door clicks shut behind me.

I stalk to the elevator and thrust her from my mind with effort.

I need to focus. And I need to work out what the fuck is going on.

P illars nightclub might be Nikolai’s domain these days, but despite the bullshit he runs from here, he has enough sense at least not to fuck with the original setup. Set in an old basement by the commercial port, Pillars was one of Mikhail’s and my first joint ventures, back in the days before the raids, when we were still dreaming up what would become Hale. It’s named for the art deco pillars that are its central feature, beneath a vaulted ceiling that dates back centuries. I still take pleasure from the sophisticated-lounge feel of the low couches and carved stonework. Giving it to Nikolai after Mikhail’s death was a gesture of friendship and trust, a relatively harmless way of easing him into responsibility. I gave him more than one chance to show me he was ready to step up, to become part of the new Stevanovsky clan.

But Nikolai never took that outstretched hand, any more than he took my advice.

In the end, cutting him loose was a matter of survival. Sadly, I doubt it will be long before Nikolai finds himself in a cell close to his father.

I wish it were different.

But ours is a hard world. You end up smart, or you end up dead. Sometimes, jail is the place in between where you learn how to be smart, so you can escape death. I hope that’s how it will go for Nicky, but somehow I fucking doubt it. That little prick has been writing checks his balls can’t cash for a while now. And he doesn’t show any signs of wising up.

He wouldn’t have lasted a goddamn day on the streets where Dimitry and I came up, nor in the halfway house where we truly became brothers.

“Brother.” I don’t need to turn around to know Dimitry’s at my shoulder. “They’re still in the VIP room.”

I nod, scanning the crowd for any familiar faces, nodding at the few of Nikolai’s crew that I know. They visibly stiffen, but none of them are game enough to do anything other than approach me and pay their respects. Dumb fucks know who runs our clan, even if they sold their souls to Nikolai’s bullshit long ago.

“Gregor.” I address the one I find the least offensive, nodding at the others, who take the hint and fuck off. “What do you know about the pap who’s in the room with Nicky?”

“He came with Miguel, the Cádiz striker.” He shrugs.

“Name, Gregor,” I snarl. “I need a fucking name.” He has the grace to look embarrassed. He’s probably the hardest of Nikolai’s pathetic crew. “Lance Ryder. He’s an English guy.”

Lance Ryder? Jesus, even the fucker’s name annoys me.

“He’s not a new face,” Gregor goes on. “Nicky usually gives him access to the celebs who come in here. In return, Pillars gets good press coverage.”

It’s a normal enough setup. But Lucia is no celebrity, and bratva don’t make a habit of inviting paparazzi to their business meetings.

Something is off.

Still, I’m not about to bust down the door and make a dirty situation into a stinking pile of shit that will end up in a tabloid.

“Take me to the security room.”

Gregor takes us upstairs. The security room is a wall of screens. Cameras cover every angle of Pillars, a precaution I’m relieved to discover Nikolai hasn’t disposed of. A pack of his muscle monkeys lounge in front of the screens, exchanging nervous glances when I open the door. For a second, I actually think the dumb fucks might be about to refuse me entry.

Luckily for them, they think better of that idea.

I order the monkeys out, then close the door behind them and zoom in on the VIP room.

“That’s the Cádiz FC manager, Carlos Perez, with two of the Cádiz investors.” Dimitry indicates a small, stocky man whose face I vaguely recognize from news stories, flanked by two mugs in bad suits and too much gold jewelry. “His son, Miguel, is sitting next to him. He’s the Cádiz striker.” Miguel is as stocky as his father, but with the athletic build that comes from hard training. He’s got slicked-back hair, a face made for B-list status, and an arrogant posture that tells me he thinks he’s definitely A-list. But I’m not interested in the footballers. I already know that particular story, and I’m not overly happy about being anywhere near the place Nicky is doing his idiotic deals.

“Which one’s the pap?”

“Him.” Dimitry points, and I wonder how I didn’t immediately see it.

In a room full of footballers and criminals, Lance Ryder stands out like a lily growing in a sewer. He’s an all-English-private-school boy straight out of a Lacoste advertisement. With tousled hair and blinding white teeth, he’s wearing a check shirt rolled to the elbow and chinos, and has a nice Malaga tan. I bet he fucks as many C-listers as he photographs.

So what’s he doing slumming it here?

I frown. “Is that friend of Lucia’s still here?”

“Abby?” Dimitry’s face takes on a rather stubborn expression. “No,” he says shortly. “I sent her home.”

I glance sideways at him. “Oh, you did, did you?”

Prick deserves some payback for his earlier swipe about Lucia being in my room.

“She doesn’t know anything, anyway. Apart from what I told you.” Other than a slight hint of color, Dimitry resolutely ignores my jibe. “And I’ve already questioned the kitchen boy. Apparently Ryder bought him a drink after work one night. The kid thought Ryder was going to pump him for info about Abby. Then Ryder asked what the kid knew about Lucia, like did he know where she was living now, that kind of thing.”

“Where she’s living now ?” I jump on that like a rat up the sewer. “When was this?”

“The night before last, Abby said.”

The same day Lucia quit her job and started working for me.

I’m liking this less and less.

I stare at the screens, studying the faces in the room. There’s no doubt Nicky is making some kind of deal. “Where’s the audio on this fucking thing?”

Dimitry sticks his head out the door, and Gregor sidles warily in. “Nicky doesn’t like people listening when he’s doing business. He had it disabled.”

“Then fucking enable it.”

“I can’t.” Gregor gives us both a nervous look. “Only Nicky has the codes.”

Despite my sincere dislike of my adoptive brother, I can reluctantly concede that at least he’s security conscious, which is more than I gave him credit for. Not that I appreciate Nicky suddenly growing a brain when it’s least useful to me.

I make a snap decision.

“Dimitry came here for a drink.” I glare at Gregor. “He saw the Cádiz FC crew turn up for a meet and thought I should know. Which, for the record, I fucking should have. He called me, I came down. We saw, we left.” I get up close. “We didn’t ask about any paparazzi. We didn’t even notice one here. That’s what happened, and that’s what you will tell my brother when he comes out of that room. Are we clear?”

Gregor gulps. “Clear.”

“And the rest of the monkeys outside the door?”

He swallows. “None of them heard our conversation. I didn’t say anything to them.”

“You better not have,” I snarl. “Because if I find out that you did...” I let my voice trail off menacingly enough for him to get the message. I stare long enough until I’m sure he has. Then I go in for the sweetener. “You weren’t a bad kid once, Gregor. Before you threw your lot in with Nikolai.”

It’s true, actually. Gregor got lost in the nightmare of the raids. When the dust cleared, Nikolai owned him. I’ve always felt a bit bad about that.

“If you see anything, hear anything, about that meeting or the reason the pap was in that room, then you come to me. Nobody else. I reward loyalty.” I hold his eyes. “Do this, and there might be a place for you at Hale.”

To his credit, the kid doesn’t do a happy dance. Just nods once, takes the offer like a man. “I’ll come to you, boss,” he says quietly. “You have my word.”

“Good.”

We get the fuck out of there before anybody else notices us.

“So?” Dimitry says as we drive back to the city. He left his motorbike at Pillars and is driving my Mercedes. “What do you make of it?”

“I don’t know yet.” I’m frowning out the window, trying not to think of whether it’s too late to wake Miss Lopez up for another round. It is, of course. And even if it wasn’t, I’m not going to give her that kind of power this early on. Best to keep her waiting.

I shift uneasily. Best for fucking who?

I turn my mind back to the problem at hand. “Obviously, I want people on Lance Ryder. And I want Pavel to know what the rat-faced bastard ate for breakfast for the past twenty fucking years.”

“Done,” says Dimitry immediately.

“I want Lucia’s name kept out of it.” I glance at him. “Entirely out of it. But feel free to ask your little friend what she knows.”

His face shuts down. “I think she’s told me all she knows.”

“Still.” I take a slightly sadistic pleasure in making him squirm. “Ask her anyway.”

“Boss,” says Dimitry stolidly, but I don’t miss his white knuckles on the steering wheel. It seems my second in charge has got quite the thing for Lucia’s friend. Not that I give a fuck. I’ve got bigger things to worry about.

Much bigger.

“I didn’t want to mention it in the club, where we might be overheard,” I say slowly. “But there’s a chance it isn’t Lucia that pap is chasing. Or should I say, he might be chasing her in the hope of a bigger story.”

Dimitry frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Mercura.”

His head spins toward me as he does the math. He whistles hollowly. “Oh, shit.”

I nod. “Exactly. If Nicky has got wind of Mercura, and has a pet journalist at his disposal, he might be trying to find out more.”

And what better way to find out more than by befriending the broke waitress who’s suddenly been elevated to au pair status inside my home?

It seems unlikely. But then again, Mercura is a game changer. A megaproject that will change everything.

It’s also something that Nicky has been completely shut out of.

I know that keeping Nikolai out of Mercura was the right thing to do, and I’ve made damn sure my security is tighter than MI6. But that doesn’t mean Nikolai hasn’t taken it upon himself to do some digging of his own. And for all that Lance Ryder is a pap, he’s got the kind of look that suggests he might have contacts that go beyond the sewer in which the paparazzi usually swim.

“I sent Nikolai’s lawyers an email advising him that I hired a new au pair,” I tell Dimitry. “It’s standard practice—I keep all the family updated on what measures I’ve taken in relation to the children. I didn’t mention Lucia’s name, only that it was a private arrangement rather than agency organized.”

“And you think Nikolai bothered to check?” Dimitry sounds skeptical. “He’s never shown that kind of interest in the kids before.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it was Inger who checked.”

His derisive snort indicates his opinion on the likelihood of Inger taking any more than a cursory interest in her children.

“Either way, with barely six months to release, I’m not risking Mercura. We need to know what this Ryder wants, and why. And then if he requires a bullet between the eyes, we need to take care of it.” I glance sideways at Dimitry, who nods. That isn’t an order that needs any further elaboration.

We drive in silence for a while, and I’m just starting to slip back into filthy fantasies about what I plan to do with Miss Lopez tomorrow night when Dimitry speaks up again.

“Boss?” There’s a certain edge to his voice that makes me fairly certain I’m about to get the benefit of his advice, whether I like it or not.

“What,” I say resignedly, mentally kissing Lucia’s curves a reluctant goodbye.

“First we couldn’t get a background check on Lucia. Now we find out there’s a pap following her.” He shakes his head. “I don’t mean to question your decisions—”

“Then fucking don’t,” I snarl. “I’ve got more security than the Kremlin, and a DNA test on the way. Meanwhile the children arrive in less than twelve hours, and they need a nanny. Until and unless I say otherwise, Lucia Lopez is that nanny. Got it?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good.”

We make the rest of the trip in silence. The grim line of Dimitry’s mouth, however, says I haven’t heard the last of his views on Miss Lopez.

The worst of it is, I know he’s fucking right.

And despite what I just told him, there isn’t a DNA test on the way. I did think about it. I even called Pavel and asked some questions about running it.

The problem is that DNA searching involves a whole lot of dangers we aren’t set up to handle. Once a test has been run, and matched against others, it leaves a trace. It’s one of the reasons I’m almost pathological about never having my own run.

What if running her DNA leads whoever is hunting Lucia straight to her door?

I have that strand of hair. Hell, after last night, I’ve got Lucia’s DNA whenever I goddamn want it. But that’s just the problem. If she’s never had a test done, then she’s not on any database. But if she has...

There’ll be people watching for it.

And that means putting not only Lucia, but my godchildren, at risk. Not to mention possibly exposing Mercura.

There are other ways to find out what I need to know. Safer ways.

The easiest way of all is to gain her trust. Convince her that she can tell me her secrets. Seduce her until she has no thought of hiding anything from me.

And I like that idea a whole lot more.

It means I can stop pushing her away. Means I don’t have to exert self-discipline in taking her whenever I like.

I’ll make Lucia mine. Make her feel safer than she ever has, more relaxed and happy than she knew she could be. And then, when she’s utterly at ease, I’ll ask her the hard questions. In the meantime, I’ve got enough security to stave off any threat that might come our way, as well as a technological powerhouse that can see digital searches coming long before the seeker even knows they’re being watched.

I settle back into the seat, feeling an almost exhilarating calm spread through my body despite the stresses of the night.

In fact, I feel calmer than I have in years. More centered. More... certain.

And if sex with Lucia is the secret sauce that gets me there, then I can’t see any downside to my current plan. Because I intend to have a whole lot more of it.

Soon.

In fact, I intend to fuck Lucia Lopez until she forgets her past entirely—and I become her only future.