Chapter 8 - Aleksandr

A final shot rang out. One of my men, I was sure. The few guys who'd stayed to fight us that were still on their feet took off like rats fleeing a sinking ship. I had my foot on the back of someone, a beefy fellow with long, stringy hair and reeking of beer that the young and terrified barmaid had smashed over his head when he tried to haul her over the bar.

Thinking about him or any of this rough gang of hooligans hurting any of my employees, made me give him a brisk kick to the ribs, even though he was already down. Nobody hurt my people. Nobody even tried.

Maxim, my younger brother by four years, appeared from the back of the neighborhood bar that our family had owned since before I was born, back when my father and uncle ruled these streets. Our father had gone back to Moscow after his only brother had been killed, leaving it all to me. I'd been running things ever since I was in my early twenties, and these skirmishes never ceased to annoy me.

"Got this one as he was limping out the back," Max said, running a bloody hand through his hair, which was dark like mine.

His brown eyes, identical to our mother's, shone with the afterglow of a righteous fight. He left behind a rusty swipe on his forehead, but he most likely wouldn't notice for hours, scaring the hell out of anyone he came across in the meantime.

Lev soon joined him, swearing up a storm. "That fucker slithered right out of my grip and took off like a shot."

His lip was split, and he'd probably develop a black eye by the looks of it, but he, too, eventually smiled when he saw that Max had caught someone.

"Two is better than nothing," I said, leaning over the bar to let the girl know it was okay to come out from where she was hidden behind a stack of napkin boxes. "Now we need to figure out who they are."

"This isn't the first time they've come," the girl said in harried Russian. She'd been sent over by one of my father's many friends, looking for a chance at a better life.

"Calm down and speak English," I said gently, grabbing a towel to wipe the blood off my hands.

It wasn't that I didn't understand her, but she needed to assimilate. I made a mental note to reassign her to one of our restaurants in a better neighborhood, so she didn't have to put up with this sort of thing. A bar like this called for someone much bigger and stronger and not so easy to intimidate. Someone who could fight back.

"You did a good job with the bottle," I told her, trying to make her smile. "That was very brave."

"She shouldn't have to be brave at all," Max said, fury in his eyes. "You'll come to work at my diner in Hollywood," he told her in Russian. So much for assimilating.

I wondered if she'd be any safer in Max's hands, as it looked like he might be developing one of his little crushes. He was a known heartbreaker and on the shitlists of countless starlets and servers alike. But she seemed to warm up to his flirtatious smile, and we got the story out of her.

"The Armenians again," I said, swearing. The guy I still had my foot on was only half conscious, and the other refused to talk at all. "If we cut them loose, we appear weak. If we send out a stronger message, that will surely escalate things."

I waited for my brothers' input. I'd have the final say, but I always believed it was important to hear all sides.

Lev insisted they'd already escalated, and we needed to stand firm. Max took a long moment before agreeing with him, despite normally always opting for a more peaceful outcome.

I nodded and told Max to take care of it while Lev followed me outside to my car. I looked down at my bruised knuckles, then up at the ancient sign hanging over the door of the bar. It was weathered almost to the point of being unreadable, but the people in this neighborhood still flocked there.

"Why do we even keep these piddling little places open?" I asked. "They're nothing but a pain in the ass."

"You know what Papa always said," Lev reminded me needlessly. "It's important to diversify."

"Yes," I agreed with a sigh.

Our father loved each and every corner shop and hole-in-the-wall bar he owned, citing upscale establishments that were wildly popular one day could go bust the next, all at the whims of the fickle Los Angeles elite. But everyone needed a place to buy food or grab a beer at the end of a long workday.

And they were great ways to launder money. So they stayed open, and we continued to defend them from upstarts who didn't want to build, only steal.

"Stay here and make sure that barmaid doesn't fall too hard for Max," I said, getting in my car.

"It's too late for that, I think," he said with a laugh.

He tapped the roof of my car as I drove off, and I grinned, wincing at the pain it caused my cheek. Looking in the rearview mirror at the damage, it looked like nothing more than a small cut, probably caused by the other guy's ring. My assistant kept a first aid kit in my office at the club, and she'd help patch me up.

Though I wished it was someone else doing the tender loving care. Someone with dark auburn hair, emerald green eyes, and a mouth I couldn't get off my mind. Someone with the audacity to sneak out on me.

Even after three days, I couldn't get Katie off my mind. Her apple scent, the sweet taste of her, her silky smooth skin. Those incredible curves. I could hear her soft moans and wild screams in my memory as clearly as when they were coming out of her lush mouth.

What was it about her? From the moment I laid eyes on her to the moment I made her mine, she wouldn't leave my thoughts. It didn't take me long to find out where she lived, or the location of the restaurant she told me about. I knew she woke up at the crack of dawn every morning, traipsed to a big, open air fresh market, and bought huge amounts of food. A few hours later, she'd be back and forth between office buildings, selling her wares.

Was that why she had seemed so familiar to me? Perhaps I had seen her at my La Brea office? I did have several legitimate businesses, it was impossible not to. But that didn't seem to ring a bell. I never ate in the office since, between the other members of my family, we owned way too many restaurants for me to be interested in a box lunch.

That was until I ordered one of my guys to buy one from her and bring it to me. The sandwich was extraordinary; it was a mix of chicken, avocado, cucumbers, and spices I'd never had before. The small salad was fresh and crisp, with a peppery dressing I still craved.

Almost as much as I still craved Katie. Still imagined her carrying my child—our child, because I wanted both of them. My obsession wasn't waning, so I had my assistant book a private party through the fledgling catering business she'd admitted she was on the verge of giving up on. Perhaps if I saw her again, the spell would be broken, and I'd get over her.

The party was only for a dozen people, some shareholders at our family's mostly legit investment firm. I rented out the restaurant she worked for because I thought it might amuse her to be in charge there, if only for a night.

I only had a few more hours to go until I saw her again. Until she saw me. I couldn't wait to see the look in her eyes, see what emotions would cross her pretty face. The rest of the afternoon flew by in a blur, all my thoughts consumed by Katie.

At the restaurant, I took my place at the head of the table, surrounded by my guests in their finest attire. I'd worn a navy blue suit and shirt open at the neck. The cut on my cheek barely showed, though my knuckles were still in bad shape. I was on the edge of my chair, waiting to see her.

Once we were all seated, I could barely contain my impatience. Both with her and myself, because that wasn't at all like me. She finally came out after drinks were served to introduce herself as our chef, and explain the menu.

She faltered over her words when she recognized me at once. Our eyes locked, and I let a smile curl my lips. Her face went pale, but she quickly rallied, smoothly explaining each dish we'd be experiencing that night. Bright color crept up from her white chef's coat, and my fingers clenched in my lap with the urge to stroke the wisps of hair that fell from her tight ponytail off of her neck.

As she spoke, I never let her free of my gaze, but I couldn't care less what we'd be eating. I only wanted to hear one thing from her.

Yes.

She finished her speech, turned, and fled back to the kitchen. I waited until my guests were enjoying the appetizer, a shrimp dish with scallions, to excuse myself and head back to the kitchen.

From the doorway, I just watched her for a moment, enjoying the ease and confidence of her motions as she flipped several steaks and then deftly stirred a sauce. Was I actually getting turned on by watching a woman cook? This woman, yes, I was. Only Katie.

As soon as she turned away from the hot stoves and headed toward a hallway, I made my move. Intercepting her with a firm grip on her arm, I pulled her away from her crew, into a storage closet. Shutting the door behind us, I backed her against it, my hands caging her in on either side of her head.

She gasped, looking up at me with wide eyes. But not trying to run away. "Aleks… I had no idea…"

I ignored her attempts at an excuse. I didn't need to hear it.

"Do you have an answer for me yet?" I asked, leaning close enough to feel her warm breath on my cheek.

Her lips parted, and her tongue darted out to wet them. "Answer?"

Her feigning ignorance was adorable. Irresistible. My hunger had been left unsated for too long. I moved the final inch, our mouths colliding. Moments later, her hands were grappling at my shirt with such desperation she was pulling it out of my waistband. My fingers tangled in her hair, messing up her ponytail. It was wild and hot and breathless, and over much too soon.

She turned her face to break the kiss, ducking her chin down. Both of us swayed on our feet. No, I wasn't getting over her.

"Tell me your answer," I demanded.

Still gripping my shirt, she shoved at my chest. I stayed exactly where I was. She looked up at me, shoving harder. "Your meal will burn. The party will be ruined."

With a low chuckle, I moved away, but slipped my hand around hers before she could leave the supply room. Her eyes fluttered shut as her hand slid into mine, and she paused, halfway out the door.

"Keep thinking about it, Katie," I told her. "I'm going to get your answer when dinner is over."

With a gasp, she hurried out, trying to pull her hair back up into its band. It took me a few moments to get myself in order, shirt tucked in, and breathing under control. The brief encounter shook me more than it should have, but when I went back to my guests, I was confident I'd get what I wanted.

I always did.