Chapter 38

CHAPTER 38

VAR

G od, I loved this woman.

I'd told myself that marrying her was a logical choice.

I couldn't remember the last time I had so much fun bantering with a woman. She was mostly unfazed by my criminal enterprise, which was a nice bonus, and damn if she wasn't amazing in bed. Fucking her was like touching heaven.

She was a wild and beautiful filly who needed a strong hand, and damn if I wasn't looking forward to being that man.

Plus, there was the whole sticky issue of her witnessing a major crime and my involvement and protecting her from the various mafia syndicates calling out for blood.

It wasn't often I could play the hero and act the knight in shining armor.

Add in my close friends' happiness in their new marriages, and it was a solid, rational business decision.

Love didn't factor into it.

Until now.

Nothing like a challenge to fire a man's blood up. It may take a month, a year, or the rest of my life, but I was determined to turn that ‘I hate you' into an ‘I love you.'

Vivian stood glaring at me with her hands on her hips as I shrugged out of my suit coat and gun holster in the entranceway to the penthouse.

It was hard to take her anger seriously when she looked so damn adorable in that ridiculously too large tourist hoodie and no makeup. She was like an angry baby doll.

I laid my gun and holster on the marble table and gestured for her to follow me.

"Where are we going?"

"I thought you'd enjoy a long, hot shower after your ordeal."

Her expression softened as I placed an arm around her lower back and led her through the bedroom to the bathroom. The moment we crossed the threshold, she spied her pink metal makeup case and a box of hair crap on the bathroom counter.

With pursed lips, her head snapped in my direction.

I raised an eyebrow. "Which would you prefer? To continue to walk around with dirty hair and no makeup or to let it slide that I had my men pack up your shit and bring it here?"

Refusing to give an inch, she simply lowered her gaze and conceded the battle.

I made a mental note for future battles. It might seem underhanded to use her vanity against her, but all was fair in love and war, especially when sparring against such a worthy opponent as Vivian.

Besides, I adored how much she loved her designer clothes and shoes and makeup. It would make it that much easier to spoil her rotten. American men got it all wrong when they complained about high-maintenance women.

In Russia, we loved our women that way.

We loved our women to be beautiful, curvy, intelligent, confident, and stubborn as hell.

In fact, I couldn't wait to introduce Vivian to my parents. My mother was going to love her. I could already picture my girl making an entrance in black bear fur with red lipstick and an obscenely large diamond necklace around her elegant neck.

If I'd dared to bring home some super skinny, all-natural, ChapStick wearing vegetarian, my family would chew her up and spit her out.

No, Vivian would hold her own with my large, loud family.

And she would fit right in with Russian culture.

This was a good decision.

I turned the shower nozzles on, checking that the temperature was not too hot for her delicate skin. When I turned back to face her, she was still fully clothed. "Take that crap off."

"I will when you leave."

I ripped my shirt over my head as I kicked off my boots. "What makes you think I'm leaving?"

"I'm not showering with you."

With a wink, I reached for my belt buckle. "Agree to disagree."

She threw her arms into the air with an exasperated sigh. "Can't I have a few moments of peace away from you?"

Apparently, she needed a reminder of why that would not be possible.

Storming across the cool marble floor, I pushed my hand into her hair and claimed her mouth.

Her fingers dug into my upper arms as she tried to pull back, but I just tightened my grasp.

With my tongue halfway down her throat, I waited until the moment she leaned into my embrace to slip my hands into the waistband of her sweatpants and push them down. Before she objected, I grabbed the hem of her hoodie and broke the kiss to lift it over her head.

"Hey!"

I tossed it aside and wrapped my arm around her waist, lifting her off the floor as I once more pushed my hand into her hair to cup the back of her skull. My mouth fell on hers again, like a man starved.

Backing up the few steps necessary, I walked us into the steam-filled shower chamber.

Her head swung to the side when the hot water struck her exposed back. "Have I told you how much I hate you lately?"

My palm swept over her forehead to smooth her hair out of her face. "You may have mentioned it in passing."

Ignoring my rising cock, I put her back on her feet and turned her around. Pulling her hips back so the curve of her back rubbed against my hard shaft, I reached for the shampoo.

I was determined to see to her needs and not fall on her like a rabid wolf starved of female companionship, as much as I may have wanted to. There would be plenty of time for that later.

After working a thick lather into her hair as I massaged her scalp, I tilted her head back and rinsed the soap out. Then I worked a rich conditioner into her locks. I loved how it made her long hair a silky rope.

My cock bobbed against her skin at just the thought of wrapping my fist around that rope and pulling as I entered her from behind.

With more restraint than quite honestly I thought I possessed, I resisted the urge as I reached for the sponge and the body wash.

She glanced at me over her shoulder. "Any chance you'll let me do that myself?"

I grinned as I pumped body wash into the organic sponge and squeezed to generate the suds. "What do you think?"

After wrapping her in a large towel and handing her an extra one for her hair, I retrieved two terrycloth robes from the linen closet and held one out for her.

She slipped her arms in the sleeves and belted it tightly before wrapping the towel around her hair like a turban. "Now what?"

"Now we eat."

I ushered her back down the hall to the dining room where the restaurant staff had laid out brunch while we were in the shower.

She placed her hands on her hips while she surveyed the round sterling silver chafer with Eggs Benedict, the crystal dish filled with crushed ice to nestle the smaller crystal bowl of caviar, the fresh cut fruit, the other sterling silver chafer with crispy hash browns, and the platter of bacon and sausages. All artfully arranged around a massive vase of white roses on my dining table.

I reached for the carafe of fresh orange juice and poured a small amount into two champagne flutes before grabbing the bottle of White Star Champagne. "Sit."

She primly took a seat in one of the black velvet, high-backed upholstered chairs. "Just because I'm hungry and prefer this to hospital food doesn't make this a win for you."

The champagne cork popped and fizzed over the edge as I tilted the bottle to fill the flutes. "Noted."

Lifting both flutes, I handed one to her and said, " V den' nashey svad'by ."

She lifted the flute to her lips, then paused. With narrowed, glinting green eyes, she asked, "What did you just say?"

Strictly speaking, I'd said, ‘To our wedding day.' I smiled and lied. "I said to your health."

After giving me a wary look, she drank.

Another win.

Damn, I was on a roll today.

Since I knew that wouldn't last, especially with what I had planned, I decided to enjoy the moment. Lifting her plate, I dished out a serving of everything offered before getting my own.

As we ate, the elevator pinged. Low murmuring voices carried into the dining room from the hall.

Vivian turned in her chair as her hand went to her towel turban. "Who's here?"

"It's just my staff dropping off some clothes for you."

"I thought you said your staff brought my clothes from my apartment."

"They did. But that doesn't mean I wasn't going to provide a few additional things."

Specifically something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.

She twirled the champagne flute as it rested on the table. "I can't be bought. I'm not marrying you, Var. I'm sure you're exaggerating about the threats. Besides, it's not like any of those mafia syndicates know my identity."

I paused as I lifted a piece of watermelon to my lips. "Yet."

Her brow furrowed. "What?"

Wiping my mouth after chewing, I leaned back in my chair and studied her. "They don't know your identity… yet."

Her fork clattered to the china plate. "You'd out me?"

"In a heartbeat."

She tossed her napkin on the table and rose. "So much for wanting to protect me. I'm out of here."

Launching out of my chair, I pinned her against the wall. "This is me protecting you. Without my name, you're as good as dead."

She wriggled in my grasp. "Yeah, well, I choose to take my chances."

My hand wrapped around her neck as I pushed her head back. "Then it's a good thing I'm not leaving the choice to you."

My cellphone interrupted us.

Keeping my forearm over her head, trapping her, I released her neck and reached into my robe pocket. I answered the phone. "Yeah?"

"It's Serg. ETA in five."

"You have the package?"

"Gift wrapped with a bow."

"Good."

I disconnected the call as I released her. "In the spare bedroom, you'll find a rack of clothes. Choose one of the dresses and put it on. We have guests coming."

"And if I don't do as you?—"

Before she could finish her threat, I cut in. "Defy me and you'll greet our guests naked."

With a cry of outrage, she ran out of the room.

I finished my mimosa in a gulp and followed her down the hall, branching off into the main bedroom. Crossing to my closet, I changed and emerged from my bedroom in time for Serg's arrival.

Serg gestured to the terrified-looking man in black judicial robes. "Var, meet Judge Macalheny."

I nodded, but didn't say a word.

Serg placed a heavy hand on the judge's shoulder, causing him to flinch. "The judge here owes us just over two hundred thousand dollars, thanks to an unlucky run at the tables three months ago."

Not only was running a private gambling club an exceptional front for money laundering, but it also served up blackmail opportunities on a silver platter.

Adjusting my cuffs through the sleeves of my Armani tuxedo, I raised an eyebrow as I gave the quivering judge a onceover. "Does he now?"

Serg nodded. "Unfortunately, the honorable judge has neglected to make all the payments we so generously agreed to instead of shooting him in the head and then collecting the double-indemnity insurance money from his clueless wife."

The judge turned to Serg and raised his intertwined hands. "Please, don't tell my wife! She'll kill me."

Serg wagged his finger. "You're not listening closely enough, judge-y boy. We'll also kill you, except way more painfully and piece by piece."

I shook my head slowly. "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Didn't anyone ever tell you it's bad form not to honor your debt to the ruthless, cold-blooded Russian Mafia?"

Serg frowned. "I know. I feel like that should be taught in schools here in America like it is in Russia. It's a far better life lesson than algebra."

"Agreed." I placed an arm around the judge's shoulders and led him into the living room. "So, judge. Let me explain what you're about to do for me, and more important, why you'll be taking your life in your hands if you say no."