Chapter 33

Anton

"Make sure this never happens again," I snapped at Ulrick. He did not react but I could tell he was also upset by his error. But it was my fault. No one had been told how much my little maid meant to me. They did not know that I was no longer priority one.

She was.

Ulrick had been with me longer than anyone else, other than a few of my father's men who had been in various positions in our organization since my childhood. But Ulrick was different. He served me alone. He was in charge of my personal safety. This was a huge error, and I was furious with both of us about it.

I was also embarrassed by my behavior. I had lost control of myself. Of my temper. That was not acceptable.

Not to mention that I had never raised my voice to him, or anyone, before. The world bent over backwards for me. People feared me or wanted access to my money. Usually, both.

I knew this behavior was unusual for me. I never showed emotions. And I had never cared about anything or anyone like this. Not even close.

I cared for my brothers, of course. I would die for them, But I didn't have to worry about them. They weren't delicate, precious, and vulnerable like Mishka was. It was simply, and dramatically, different.

I would die for her, too. I would murder for her. I would suffer any level of torture for her. Hell, I already was.

My desire for Mishka was mixed with terror for her safety, and I did not like it. The world had never felt dangerous before. I suspected this was what most people felt when having a child.

The tender terror of it all was sobering.

Mishka had enjoyed the rest of the opera. But she had been giving me wary looks ever since the intermission. I knew she was extremely aware of my mood. I did my best to hide it, to shake it off, but the thought of anything happening to her had unsettled me on a profound level.

She is safe now, I reminded myself. We had female security waiting for us in California. Nothing bad would happen to her, barring an act of God.

That reminded me. I wanted her to see my personal physician as soon as we returned to Moscow. I had to keep her healthy.

I wanted to know, without a doubt, that every cell in her body was functioning as well as it possibly could, and that she was safe and well at all times.

This was for her wellbeing, but there was more to it. I felt a sense of urgency now that I had determined that she should have my child. She would. She must.

The desire to impregnate her beautiful body had been there since the beginning, steadily simmering beneath the surface since the very moment I laid eyes on her. Getting to know her complex depths since then had only made me more determined. She was the ideal woman. She would be an incredible mother.

She would be mine. And she would give me a baby. But only if the doctor said it was safe for her. She was mine regardless. She mattered more to me than having offspring. Besides, we could always adopt or hire a surrogate.

Perhaps that would be better anyway. Once I had her in my bed, I would want her every night. Repeated pregnancies might make that difficult, from what I understood.

A surrogate might be the perfect solution. Unless she wanted to carry our children herself… I realized I was getting ahead of myself. But I was a born strategist. It was simply in my nature.

Particularly when the stakes were so incredibly high.

The idea of hiring a surrogate would require some research and study. The thought excited me. I was ready to make moves to set our future in motion. But I knew that I could not rush her. She was nearly ready for me, but not quite yet.

Once I had her, all bets were off. I would lead us. She would allow me to do so. I would keep her safe, happy, and spoiled for the rest of our lives.

This was only the beginning.

I could not wait for our story to unfold.

I stepped onto the plane, where Mishka was already waiting for me. She was sitting quietly, staring into space. I reminded myself that nothing bad had happened, other than the marvelous mood of the day being dampened by my oversight and anger about it.

Perhaps I could remedy that. Realizing that I loved her that deeply should not be a loss to me. It was still a wonderful day.

And it would be even better if she let me hold her in my arms. Snuggling all the way to California would have bored me to tears before I met her. Now, it sounded like absolute paradise.

"Mishka," I said, standing in the aisle near her seat. She was sitting on one of the cream leather sofas that faced into the interior of the plane. It would be an ideal place to sleep or rest. Or to make love, I thought with a surge of desire. But I would not take her on a plane for the first time.

The security staff was already in a separate part of the plane. I would simply have to shut and lock the door. But again, it was not the time. As desperate as I was to hold her in my arms, to make love to her, it was not the time.

I could hold her though. If she would let me.

Big beautiful eyes stared up at me solemnly. And then she gave me a small smile. Her pretty lips opened just enough for me to see a glimpse of white chiclet teeth.

She was so incredibly sweet; it drove me absolutely wild.

"Thank you for such a wonderful day."

All my cares slipped away with that small smile. I pulled her to her feet and into my arms, wrapping them around her.

This was not an embrace of passion. It was pure tenderness. I would die for this girl, I thought, and not for the first time.

"Mishka," I murmured into her hair. "Thank you."

I kissed her silky hair.

"I am sorry for worrying you."

"It does not matter," she said sweetly, her voice muffled from being pressed so firmly against my chest. I laughed at the sound and squeezed her tighter until she let out a little squeak. I laughed harder and released her.

"I love you, little one," I breathed, unable to stop myself. Her eyes were wide and clear. She was surprised by my admission, but not shocked. She knew. I knew very well that she was not ready to say it back. It didn't matter. It was there between us. My love would be enough to light the way. She would find me.

Her heart would catch up to mine. I knew it. I could feel it.

I would be patient with my little Russian doll.

My eyes fell to her pouting lips and then we were kissing. Deeply. Madly. Without thought or reason. I had never touched a woman without being extremely calculated about it. Sex and all its precursors had been mechanical to me. A skill to learn and become expert in. And I was an expert.

For the second time in my life, I lost all semblance of control. The first time had been in my study, when I tended to Mishka's leg. I had kissed her wildly then, but this was different. My feelings for her had grown and changed. I had wanted her desperately then. Already loved her. But now? I belonged to her, body and soul.

This beautiful little girl owned me. To the outside world it might look the other way around. But I knew it to be true. I wondered if she knew it, too.

Her mouth opened beneath mine. I could feel her shyness and inexperience battling with her attraction to me. There was no plan. No practiced moves. No seduction. If anything, I was the one being seduced. Seduced by her beauty, her innocence, and her incredible spirit.

I was in awe of her. I had wanted her for so long. I had waited for so long. It was as if my shackles had been released. I was a bull charging a red flag. I was a racehorse let out of the gate.

Slow down. Slow the fuck down.

I tore my mouth away from her's in shock. I lost all control with Mishka. Every single time. The spark between us turned into a conflagration without the slightest effort. It was dangerous. Particularly since she was untouched.

She stared up at me, her eyes soft and confused. Vulnerable. I was going too fast. But stopping suddenly would be just as shocking.

And there was no way in hell that I could.

"Mishka… I want you."

Her cheeks turned pink so I knew she understood the gist of what I was saying. She was incredibly innocent but she hadn't been raised in a convent. She must know what happens between men and women. I prayed she did, at any rate. If not, I would have an even more challenging task ahead of me.

This was one task I was eager to succeed at. There was no other choice. I must succeed. I must have her, and love her, all while protecting her. Even from myself. Especially from myself.

The beast within me wanted to devour her in one bite. I could not do that. I must not do that.

"Do you know what I mean?"

She bit her lip and nodded, her beautiful eyes shifting away from me.

"I… think so?"

I half groaned and half laughed, leaning my forehead against her. I was still desperate to get her clothes off, but the moment of levity had slowed me down. Not quite a cold shower, but close.

"I will not make love to you for the first time in any kind of moving vehicle," I said with a laugh. "But perhaps the second time. Or the third."

Her gasp of outrage only made me laugh harder.

"I am sorry, little Mishka. You are too adorable not to tease."

She made a funny little harumphing sound but when I lifted her chin up to look at me, I could see she was not angry with me. Her eyes twinkled; despite the mock angry look she gave me.

"I will lock the cabin, however. To give us some privacy. Unless you are hungry. I know how much you love to eat."

Now it was her turn to laugh. I pressed a quick, hard kiss to her lips. I spoke briefly to my staff, accepted two large bottles of mineral water and locked the door.

I turned and held up the bottles.

"Would you like some chamomile tea?"

She giggled. I felt myself relax. This was just a sleep over. I was not going to deflower her. Not tonight.

But we could… play.

"How about a glass of wine?" I said, wiggling my eyebrows at her a little.

"Tea, please."

I used the small kettle to heat the bottled water, and poured her a cup. I eyed the pristine row of unopened bottles of vodka in the bar but decided to refrain. I simply wanted to hold her, tonight. I was not upset. I did not need to numb myself. I wanted to feel everything.

To remember every precious moment of this night.

I gestured to two seats that were front facing and beside each other. She sat by the window. I sighed as I sat beside her to prepare for takeoff, eyeing the couch that was more or less a bed on the other side of the cabin. Perhaps later… I reasoned with the beast inside me.

I put her seatbelt on, then my own, just as the pilot started to taxi. There were no unnecessary interruptions or chatter on my private jet. No pretty stewardesses either. I sent them all off to work for my brothers as soon as I met Mishka. I knew there would be no need for window dressing.

My on-board staff was now all the best you could get, minus the visuals. I felt a slight pang over how superficial I had been before. I still valued beauty, but it was only in one woman, as far as I could see.

Mishka made all other women pale in comparison. They were cardboard cutouts and she was full, splendid, 3D. She was music and art and magic. She was life.

She was my life.

We talking quietly during takeoff, watching the New York skyline fall away as the plane climbed. The colors were slightly different from our arrival several days before. It was nearly midnight, and the city was lit up like a leading lady on Oscar night.

Nearly as beautiful as the woman sitting so gracefully beside me. I felt such a divine sense of peace in her presence. She would never hurt me, I knew. Never utter an unkind word. She would challenge me, yes. Make me work to keep up with her, to understand her, to know her.

But the only way she could truly hurt me, would be to leave. And I aimed to make sure that she never did.

We curved back towards the coastline and then the topography changed. The vast blackness of the Atlantic was gone. Instead, we sailed across an ocean of land and lights. Of cars and highways. Of towns and cities. It wasn't long before I realized that the silly head tucked against my shoulder was still and quiet.

The only sound in the cabin was the muffled hum of the engine and little Mishka's breath. Dare I say… even some delicate snuffling sounds. I grinned. My little lady snored.

It might be due to the overwhelming amount of food and alcohol I had poured into her during our adventures on that day. Or the dryness of the air at twenty thousand feet.

But either way, my girl sounded like a petite little piglet, rooting for truffles in the forest.

It was the sweetest sound I had ever heard in my life.

I wanted to hear it for the rest of my life.

And I swore, that no matter what it took, whatever it cost me, I would.