His Ward (2 page)

“He assumed she had car trouble and made fast work to get to her. According to Wallace, he didn’t think anything was out of the ordinary until he noticed her face.”

A chill ran down Misha’s spine. “Was she bruised or bloody?” There would be hell to pay if the answer came back yes.

“No.” Nicholi rushed to assure him. “Wallace just said she looked upset. Shaken. He asked her what was wrong, but she just brushed it away and told him it was nothing. Only thing is, when she sat down, he said he swore she winced, but when he asked her if she was okay, she smiled and said yes. After he settled her in the back of the car, he went around front and raised the privacy screen and then discreetly called me. I instructed him to take her straight to her apartment and wait there while I came here for you.”

“Winced?” Concern filled him. “But he saw no bruises, no ripped clothes.”

“Nothing.”

“Maybe she fell going down the stairs. Heels aren’t easy to walk in,” said a feminine voice from behind them. Nicholi and Misha turned their attention in sync to face the blonde who’d finally finished dressing. “It happens,” she continued when she had their full attention. “To the best of us sometimes.”

Frowning, Nicholi looked back to Misha. “Who is she?”

Misha turned his back on his displeased date, dismissing her as easily as he had picked her up. “No one of importance.”

“Fuck you,” she yelled. “You can just forget about ever calling me again.”

Misha glanced back at her, surprised the woman hadn’t already vacated his apartment. Call her again? He didn’t even think he remembered her name. “I hadn’t planned on it.”

“You bastard.” She screeched as she picked up a decorative vase from a side table and tossed it with deadly accuracy at his head.

Instead of ducking, Misha smoothly reached up and caught it, then handed it to one of the guards as they moved past him to her side. “Make sure she gets home safely and unharmed.” He might be a bastard, but he wasn’t an asshole. “And get Wallace on the phone. I want to hear firsthand from him about this encounter on our way there.”

“I figured you would.” Nicholi pulled his cell, pressed a number, then handed it to Misha. “My car is downstairs.”

“Good.” He’d let Nicholi worry about traffic while Misha worried about Tionne.

* * * *

It took a lot of effort, but after several minutes of trying, Tionne Singleton finally managed to lower herself into the bubble bath. The hot water scalded her skin, but the Epsom salt soothed it. Sighing in relief, she relaxed her legs and lay back in the tub, resting her head against the blow-up bath pillow suctioned against the bathroom wall. Her favorite eucalyptus candles were lit, and her favorite R&B soul music played on the bathroom stereo. If it weren’t for the welt on her back, it would be just like any other late-night bath. But instead of soaking to ease the tension and relax, she was soaking to relieve pain. The worst part about it was, she had no one to blame but herself.

Frustrated, she sat up and pulled the bamboo bathtub caddy closer to her. Knowing she was going to be in the tub awhile, she’d crammed it with goodies. Her wineglass, which was half-filled with the deep burgundy she kept on hand for bad days, sat next to the hardbound copy of the mystery best seller she’d been meaning to read for a month now. On top of the book was her cell phone. It lay facing her, unlocked, with a photo and a number on the screen at the ready.

She picked up the phone and stared at the face of her distinguished-looking guardian. It wasn’t a candid shot, just one she’d taken on the spur of the moment while they were at a food festival. It had been a random outing they’d stumbled across one Sunday afternoon. He hadn’t wanted to partake in the festivities but had given in simply because she asked. To both their surprise, he’d really enjoyed trying all the different foods, and she was able to capture one such moment in the midst of him sampling a gooey dessert. In the picture, his eyes were closed, and there was a look of pure ecstasy on his face. She’d snapped the photo at just the right time. She didn’t dare show it to him for fear of waking up sans phone, but she treasured it just the same. Just thinking about the day made her smile as she traced her finger over his face. “Misha.”

As usual, just looking at the handsome man lightened her spirit. He had that effect on her. Always had, even at the tender age of four when her father—who at the time had been a high-ranking member of the army—had brought home the Bosnian teenage war refugee. Misha’s father had been working with the US government on something that, even to this day, Tionne knew nothing of, but whatever it was had gotten him and his Russian-born wife killed. Tionne’s father had pulled some strings and greased some palms to get Misha out of the country. Tionne was never sure whether he’d done it out of some sense of duty or genuine kinship for the now orphaned boy. All she knew is she went to bed one night an only child and woke up the next with an older brother of sorts.

He’d stayed with her family while the government worked to find his US relatives. When she’d met him, he’d been a half-starved shell-shocked kid in a young man’s body. He’d seen things that even now as an adult she couldn’t imagine. He’d been damaged goods from a dangerous world, yet despite all that, he’d never been anything but gentle with Tionne. He’d treated her like spun glass, a habit he’d never outgrown. To Misha, Tionne would always be the four-year-old daughter of the man who’d rescued him. A favor he’d returned tenfold to her father, when her parents died in a car accident, leaving a then fifteen-year-old Tionne orphaned and alone.

As her parents passed on, Misha slipped in. He handled the funeral and moving arrangements all at the same time, and by the time Tionne’s father was laid to rest in his new home in Arlington Cemetery, Tionne had been moved into Misha’s home, along with two of the most overpaid, unnecessary au pairs, who’d watched over her despite her being at an age where she didn’t need a babysitter, let alone two. Despite how she’d pleaded, Misha would not be moved. He insisted it was the proper thing to do, and as with all things, what Misha wanted, Misha got.

Even all these years later, he was still the self-appointed “boss of her.” Tionne worked in one of his many companies in a job specifically made for family members, where she did nothing of importance for an obscene salary. She lived in a condo he owned, drove a car he’d bought, and wore clothes purchased with funds he deposited monthly into a checking account, despite the fact she was employed.

Misha did everything in his power to insure she wanted for nothing. And if she went to him with this small problem, Misha would make everything better. But in order to do that, she’d have to tell him what she’d done, and that, of course, was out of the question.

There was no way on earth she wanted to explain to Misha that she’d chickened out of going through with her plan to lose her virginity. This was a disaster of her own making. She had no one to blame but herself, and no matter how easy Misha made it for her to run to him when she had a problem, she refused to get him involved. Tionne was a grown-up. It was about time she started acting like one.

Resolved, she pressed the Off button on her cell phone, then dropped it over the side of the tub onto the bathmat. The sound of it thudding against the decorative rug rang nicely in her ears as she lay back. She could get through this on her own. The only question was how.

Groaning, she closed her eyes and sank deeper under the water. As was her way when she was thinking, she tapped her fingers on her forehead. “What to do? What to do? What to do?”

“The first thing I would suggest is to stop doing that.”

Tionne opened her eyes and screamed at the unexpected voice. Her gaze landed directly on the very man she’d been debating calling not even a minute ago. Acting instinctively, she crossed her arms over her breasts and sat up so the sudsy water covered her lower half. Her fear quickly morphed into irritation as she focused on calming her pounding heart. “What the hell, Misha.”

“Language,” he reprimanded calmly, as if him standing in her bathroom in the middle of the night was the norm.

His audacity blew her away. “Seriously.” Tionne reached over the side of the tub with one hand while shielding her breasts with the other and yanked her towel from the floor. She pulled the thick material into the water and used the cloth to cover her body. “You barge into my bathroom, scare me half to death, and now you’re going to chastise me for saying hell.”

Misha frowned. “You know I don’t like to hear you curse.”

“Well, I don’t like being scared witless.”

“I assure you, your wit seems fully intact.”

To her surprise, Misha reached down and picked up her bathtub caddy. He moved it to the sink, then came back and took a seat as boldly as he pleased on the side of the tub. He was dressed as if he were on the way to a business meeting, immaculately clothed and not a sable hair out of place. He was as out of place in her bathroom in a suit as a baby would be in a bar, yet somehow he still seemed to fit in.

“Are you okay?”

“Besides this mini heart attack?”

“Don’t deflect.” He reached out and ran the back of his knuckles against her cheek. Her resistance ebbed away, and she found herself leaning into his touch. “Tell me,
moja draga
.”

My darling,
his private nickname for her
.
Just like that, Tionne melted. This was why her first instinct was to turn to him. He was so gentle with her. “How do you always know?”

He continued to move his hand, tenderly stroking her. “Know what?”

If she were a cat, she would have purred. All the stress of the last few hours dissipated at his touch. “When I need you.”

“Because you’re a part of me.” He framed her face with his hand and stared intently into her eyes. “You’re my responsibility.”

His words were a brisk wake-up call. Even now, when she was sitting before him, covered by a soggy towel and nothing else, he still didn’t see her as a woman but as his ward. “I’m not.”

“Not what?” A puzzled frown wrinkled his forehead. “A part of me? I beg to differ.”

She grimaced and jerked away from him. “I’m not your responsibility. Not anymore.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” His eyes darkened alarmingly. He seemed as offended by her words as she’d been by his.

“It means that it’s time for you to go. I need to get dressed and…”

“You said you needed me,” he reminded her unnecessarily, his gaze intent on her face.

“I’m fine now.”

He studied her for a long moment, then shook his head. “Tell me what happened.”

“I need to get dressed,” she said stubbornly. “You should go.”

For a moment, she thought he would argue, but then he rose from his perch. “In the other room. You’re right.”

“That’s not what I was saying.” He headed for the door before she’d even finished her sentence. His high-handed manner made him a shark in the corporate world but a pain the ass in every other situation. “I meant you should leave the condo.”

“And as I said, I’ll wait in the other room. You and I have something to discuss.”

“Misha, you can’t just barge in here and tell me what to do.”

“I believe I just did.” He left without saying another word.

Irritated, she climbed from the tub, leaving the wet towel behind her in the now draining tub. With a fierce tug, she yanked a dry towel from the rack, then used it to dry off, cursing under her breath the entire time. She made quick of working of putting on the clean underthings she’d brought into the bathroom, then slipped on her robe before going after him.

“Has anyone ever told you what a ginormous ass you can be whe—” She rounded the corner, then came to a complete stop inside the doorway. To her utter surprise, Misha wasn’t alone in her living room. He was accompanied by his cousin as well as two very large and imposing bodyguards. “Really, all this just because I used your driver?”

“And here I thought you’d be proud because I only brought two guards,” Misha replied. “Gentlemen, turn around, please.” Nicholi along with the two guards accompanying them wasted no time turning their backs to her, reminding her instantaneously of what she was wearing and how little of it there was.

Heat rushed to her cheeks as she glanced down at the peach thigh-high robe barely covering her. She had grabbed the first thing she saw to put on, but that was before she knew she had a room full of company. “I’m a little underdressed, it seems. Don’t suppose any of you has an extra trench coat I could borrow?” Her attempt at humor failed to garner even the slightest smile from Misha.

“They don’t. Care to change?”

Instead of bowing to his wishes, she crossed her arms over her breasts. This was her house, and they were uninvited. “Care to tell me what you’re doing here?”

Nicholi tried to cover his laughter with a cough, but she wasn’t fooled. Misha’s cousin was definitely the easier going of the two, and if she hadn’t already been head over heels in love with Misha, she might have fallen hard for the tall brunet. But her heart was a loyal one, and it had set its sight on Misha when she was fourteen years old and hadn’t looked away yet. But being in love with him didn’t mean she was going to let him walk all over her.

Misha arched a brow. “Do I need an invitation? I do own it and everything in it, after all.”

His haughty tone set her nerves on edge. “Not everything.”

“Is that so?” His words were a challenge she wasn’t quite sure she understood the rules to. So to be safe, she kept quiet. “Since you prefer to remain unclothed, gentlemen, please wait outside.”

As one, the men began to make their way toward her front door. Even though the door only led to the hallway, Tionne didn’t feel right forcing them out of the apartment over something as silly as her clothing. She didn’t have a problem changing; she just had an issue with the way he insisted she do as told. Despite her desire to rebel against him, it just wasn’t in her to put others out. “Misha, they don’t have to do that.”

“I disagree.”

“The neighbors already think I’m connected to the mob. Having them stand point outside the door isn’t going to help me.”