Let Me In-Dragan's Tale: The Mikhailov Brothers (5 page)

I gave myself one more inspection at the m
irror by the front door and sighed. I looked like mildly slutty Tinkerbelle. Piles of naturally blonde atop my head. Smoke and peach on my eyes and lips, in that order. A mossy-colored tunic dress, cinched at the waist with a fabulously gaudy belt four-inch heels. For a woman who barely stood above five feet tall I needed all the height I could get.

“Momma, I
’m heading over to Evie’s now. You need anything before I go?” I rounded the corner to the living room and caught my mom trying to stand from her chair and move her craft table.

“Mom!” I admonished.
“What are you doing? Don’t stand if you don’t need to. What do you need?” As I asked I bent down and checked her catheter bag. It was still empty. I’d taken care of it before I showered but I hated the idea of her being stuck alone with a full bag.

“I’m fine, sweetie. I just wanted to see how my legs felt. I really think this spell is ending. I feel a remission coming on.”

I shook my head. “That’s awesome, but until the therapist clears it, you stay put.” I inventoried everything around her. Pitcher of water, her favorite crackers, latest trash novel and the phone. “You have everything you need right here. When I get home we can try to walk to the bedroom, deal?”

I raised my eyebrow, willing her to agree.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, Antonina!”

My face must have paled because her frown lifted immediately. “I’m so sorry baby. I’m frustrated and taken it out on you.”

“It’s okay,” I answered.

“No,” she said. “No, it isn’t. Baby we need to talk—”

“Nope!” I said a little too loudly. “We aren’t talking about this right now. It was a suggestion from the doctor. It doesn’t mean we have to do it. We’re fine.”

My mom lowered her head. “Yeah, I am fine. You make sure of that. What about you?”

I gave her a smile, leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I love my momma and I will see you later.”

I ordered her to call my cell phone if she needed me and hurried out the door. I was going to be late.

“What’s going on out there?
” I asked. There was a suspicious huddle of men on Sergey’s back patio. They looked like they were up to something.

Evie lifted her head from the cake she was decorating to see what I was talking about.

With a sigh, she went back to the cake, ignoring the question. She obviously didn’t care what they were doing.

I walked to the back
door and watched the men through the mullioned windows. Sergey was there, of course. And Dragan too. Begrudgingly I had to acknowledge he looked really good. Though he always did. I’d never seen him in anything other in a suit and tie. But tonight he wore gray slacks and a pale yellow shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal toned tattooed forearms. A serious scowl marred his face. It usually did. He had a nice face though. Lean with a strong jawline, always heavily dusted in black whiskers. Straight black brows over onyx eyes and thick inky lashes. His skin akin to marble. Smooth, flawless and pale. Nothing like Sergey. Dragan was a winter’s night, dark with mystery. While his brother was like a sunny day. I swallowed hard to stop myself from imagining how his short hair would feel against my fingers. Remember the dislike, I chanted to myself. I dared one final look and caught him staring at me. His eyes were like polished obsidian. Shining bright but hard and black. I held his stare for a few breaths. Tonight he didn’t look disgusted like he usually did. Instead, his countenance seemed to be coiled tight, like an animal about to strike. Tense. Two words that typically described him when he was around me: tense and disgusted. It was at that moment I realized something I would never admit to another soul. I was scared of Dragan Mikhailov. I turned away quickly, disappointed in myself. I feared nothing and no one.

He unnerved me. That was all. And I would analyze the emotion and then cut it into tiny little pieces and bury in my mind where I entombed everything that threatened my resolve.

Pivoting away from the door, I spied Evie lick the icing from her fingers.

“Can I have a taste?”

“Of course, I was wondering when you would stop staring at the boys and notice I made your favorite.”

I stood next to Evie and dipped my finger into the bowl of mocha frosting. “Oh, God,” Chocolate, creamy with a hint of coffee. Evie was an amazing cook. And though
I’d tried, I was awful. Though she’d taught me to bake, I wasn’t as good as she was. I licked my finger clean and groaned, “Mmm. That is so good.”

“Usually I’m in the room when a woman says things like that.” A
deep voice came from behind us.

The covert meeting were coming through the back door. A man, unknown to me, Dragan and then Sergey. Evie’s man chuckled. “Toni!” H
e waved to the man next to him. “This is my little brother Nicolai.” Sergey’s eyes shined a grin wide and contagious spread across his face. Yep, he had the Evie effect all over his face. She had that way about her.

Nicolai Mikhailov stood taller than both his brothers. His shoulders were wide, his face all planes and edges. Tan, blonde, muscled. He looked like something out of
a fitness magazine. He was a tasty combination of Sergey and Dragan. Woof.

“You sound pleased to say that,” I responded with a chuckle. The man’s love and affection was contagious. I couldn’t resist and planted a kiss on Sergey’s cheek and offered my hand to the little brother. “Very nice to meet you Nicolai.”

The big man took my hand and placed a kiss on my knuckles. “My God, you are a beauty,” he sighed, studying my face. He pulled my hand to bring me closer and grinned. He smelled really good. Clean with hints of vetiver and sandalwood. He continued. “I’ve been wondering who had the Dragan tied in knots.” I smiled but felt oddly uncomfortable with the attention. My eyes cut to Dragan. Apparently he’d shared his dislike for me with his little brother.

“Enough Nico!
” Dragan said. “And let go of her. Now.” I heard Dragan growl from beside me. I felt his hand hit my waist and guide me to his side and back a few paces.

Nicolai gave a hard laugh and looked around the room. All eyes, including mine, on Dragan
. “Don’t worry Drago! I remember your warning. Antonina is off limits. I gotta tell you though, wouldn’t have made such a deal if I’d known just how beautiful she was.” He winked at me and smacked Dragan on the shoulder before turning to Evie.

“Can I help with anything? I’m on the verge of getting in trouble. I think I have awakened the Dragan,” he joked with a raised brow.

Evie eyed Dragan and I for a moment. I could see her mind working.
Don’t go there Evie
.

“Yes, sweet Evelyn, give Nico something
to do with his hands,” Dragan said without inflection.

Evie laughed then, happy to deflate the bubble of tension expanding in her kitchen and ordered Ni
colai and Sergey to finish setting the table.

“Dragan,” Evie said warmly, turning back to us
. “If you wouldn’t mind, would you get the lasagna out of the oven? It’s heavy.”

He squeezed my hip and released me. Going to Evie, he planted a kiss on her cheek. “Of course, sweet Evelyn.” He kissed her cheek again and went to work on his task.

“What about me?” I asked.

Evie gave me a grin. “Open the wine, fast!”

A few minutes after Evie and I poured our first glass of wine for the evening, the doorbell rang signaling that the remaining guests had arrived.

Dragan and I were left alone in the kitchen while everyone else went to welcome the rest of the dinner party.

“Antonina,” he said low. I noticed his hand rested on my waist again
. The fingers gently tracing back and forth below my ribcage. How odd that a man so cold could make me feel so warm. I resisted the urge to lean into him. The irascibility that typically laced his tone, gone. Instead he sounded defeated.

I focused on the feel of his touch. I wanted his hands on me more than I wanted to admit. I knew, in the pit of my stomach, that behind the glacial stares, the disinterested reserve, there was a fire
. Maybe not for me. But a fire.

“Antonina?” he said again. This time with impatience.

“What?” I grumbled. “What now? What grievous sin have I committed now?” I was getting angry, which was good. I needed to be on my toes around this man. One touch and I was undone.
Stop thinking about him naked and get a grip
, I thought. Taking a breath, I pushed his hand from my side and turned to face him.

He cleared his throat. “I owe you an apology,” he started. “Never, never in my life have I laid my hands on a woman like I did you the other night.” My eyes narrowed and he misinterpreted the action. “At the club, in the alley,
“he stumbled.

“Yeah,” I replied with acid. “I remember.”

“Evie and I spoke today. I’m ashamed to say I misunderstood you. I made assumptions and I shouldn’t have.”

“Why were you and Evie discussing me? If you have a question about me, I suggest you ask me.” I spat the last words out at him and started to walk away. He blocked my progress and I s
ubconsciously rubbed my forearm.

He looked down and saw the evidence of his frustration on my arm. He’d left bruises.

“Christ, I did that?” he asked. He started to touch me and I stepped back. Not out of fear. Well, maybe panic that instead of focusing on my task to uncover his motives, I would end up dry humping his leg. His presence unnerved me.

“It’s fine.” I glanced around his shoulder. We were still alone. When I turned back to face Dragan again he was wat
ching me, his eyes studying me.

Frowning he said, “You’re scared to be alone with me,” he concluded. With a shake of his head, he started to roll his sleeves down to cover the tattoos. His fingers making their way to the front of his shirt. I watched him cover himself. He couldn’t hide the scary snake tattoo across his throat but the golf ball sized diamond drawn on his suprasternal notch was covered by his collar. That sexy little notch at the bottom of the neck. Cover his history. A rock settled in my stomach, low and heavy. Why was communicating with this man such a clusterfuck?

“Dragan.” I laughed with resignation. I reached up and pulled his fingers from his collar, and then moving to his sleeves, I unbuttoned the cuffs and folded the material back up his arms. First the right. Then the left. Exposing the blue and red ink. Begrudgingly I confessed, “You scare me but not for the reasons you think.” I sighed. The deliberation of his gaze was unnerving and personal. He was studying me like I’d seen him study others. “Stop looking at me like that,” I grumbled. “If you two are sleeping together, fine. It’s not my business. But I’ve known Rosa for a long time. She’s not acting like herself. I think you are the reason why.” I sighed. I was tired. “Look, I don’t want to argue anymore. You don’t like me. I get that. But if you are fucking with Rosa, I will find a way to stop you. She’s had so much shit in her life. She deserves some good.”

He put his hand up and shook his head. “You think I’m hurting her? What the hell do you think is going on?”

“I think she’s lonely. Don’t take advantage of that. She may not see you for what you are, but I do,” I declared.

Dragan laughed in spite of himself and took a step toward me, recouping the ground he’d lost a moment ago. “Oh, enlighten me, sweetheart. Please explain, how do you see me, Antonina?” He was grinning but he looked pissed.

“Would you stop calling me that? I fucking hate that name. And the way you say it makes me what to scratch your damn eyes out!”

His face grew serious and the laugh lines transformed into a frown. With deliberate slowness, he leaned down, his gaze penetrating, icy. His thumb on my chin, he whispered, “How do you see me, Antonina?” It sounded like a threat.

I found myself backed against a cabinet. Standing straight, I met his gaze, but words failed me. The force of his question came at me like a wave crashing against rock. I could feel the heat coming off his chest, his warm breath at my temple. Though I remained immobile, faking nonchalance, I knew this intensity would slowly erode my resolve. Change me if I allowed it. I felt the violence in him, a vibration that hummed through his bones, past muscle and flesh and into the fingers that touched my neck. For that moment, that one instant I knew what it was like to truly be attracted to someone. Not just sexually, but electrostatically. Chemically. Positive and negative. Yen and Yang. Sun and Moon. Yield and Attack. I was taken aback at the realization that I’d identified something in him that I’d wanted for a long time. And then… then I looked into his eyes and saw victory in the darkness. Not mine. His. That is when I remembered who I was. And I recalled that he was just a man.

“Well?” he asked again. “What do you think when you look at me?” He’d lowered is head further and his lips were at my ear. He was playing me. Trying to keep me off balance to deflect from his intentions. This was some kind of game of sexual one-upsmanship. I wrote the fucking manual for this little exercise.

I nudged his mouth from my ear and took his chin in to my hand. No man intimidated me. I’d made an art out of manipulating men. Letting them think they were getting all of me. But in reality, getting only what I was willing to lose. I traced my index finger across his bottom lip. I offered a stunted exhale and heard his breath hitch, just a little intake of breath and I knew he was paying attention. A little crack in his icy facade? A smile spread across my face. And I trailed the finger down his throat, his chest, to rest at his belt buckle. Below my touch, his pants tented. He was hard. “You…” I leaned into his body, got on my toes and pressed my lips against the jagged scar that stretched horizontality across his neck. He smelled like soap and cigars and the scent went straight to the amygdala of my brain. My desire to let my tongue work, warred with my need to rule the situation. Control won. I inhaled deeply and took his shirt into my fist. I’d dream about the smell. Masculine arousal. “You… Dragan. You are out of your league.” I winked, sidestepped him and walked out of the room.