Nikolai 2 (Her Russian Protector #6) (16 page)

"I don't think that's a good idea. Do you want green onions in your omelet this morning?"

"Not this morning." I wrinkled my nose and plucked one of the tiny cups of decaf green tea concentrate from the shelf near the one-cup brewer. Nikolai hated the contraption Lena had given us as a wedding gift and thought it was unnatural to drink coffee or tea that hadn't been properly brewed, but I was in love with it. "Why isn't it a good idea to tell me about my dad?"

"Because he's a fugitive, Vivian. He murdered a government witness, broke out of U.S. Marshal custody and ran to Mexico. You don't want to be the girl with any knowledge of his whereabouts. Telling you that he was in Corpus yesterday was a huge mistake." He shook his head. "I got rattled last night and slipped."

I popped the little cup of tea concentrate into place, chose my settings and leaned back against the countertop. "So the fact that he was in Corpus Christi yesterday means that something really, really bad is happening."

Nikolai plated my omelet alongside two slices of fluffy French toast. "Yes, and if anyone asks if you've seen him or heard from him, you say no."

"What about the call the other morning?" I brought my cup of tea to the island. "I can't lie about that."

"You can and you will." Nikolai plucked a banana from the fruit bowl, peeled it and cut thick slices that dropped onto the French toast, just the way I liked it. "Romero used a burner phone. No one can trace that call. If anyone comes and asks him, you give them the party line. If they get difficult with you—"

"I call our lawyer and you."

"Exactly." He placed my plate in front of me. "The last thing we need are the Feds riding this perky little ass I love so much."

I gasped when he popped my bottom and planted a noisy kiss on my neck. "Not so little anymore," I reminded him as his caressed the spot he'd playfully swatted. "I tried on clothes yesterday evening and most of them were too tight."

"So we'll go shopping tomorrow," he promised. "You can get whatever you need for the trip." Now both of his hands were on my body, gliding over the silky fabric of my robe until he cupped my breasts. "I'm particularly enjoying this change."

"Kolya." I clasped his wrists to stop him from sliding his hands inside my camisole to fondle my bare breasts. "Anyone could walk in and see us."

"This is our home. We can do whatever the hell we'd like to do in our kitchen." He trailed ticklish kisses along the side of my throat. His hands moved down my sides and legs and turned up the inside of my thighs, forcing them apart slightly. His hands stopped at the tops of them, bunching up my sleep shorts. "If I want to toss you up on this counter and have you for breakfast, I will."

I let loose a disappointed noise when he pulled his hands away and left me throbbing and needy with only a lingering kiss on my cheek. "Tease."

He offered only a sexy grin before ducking into the refrigerator for the carton of orange juice. While I liked a big, delicious breakfast, he enjoyed simpler fare and rarely strayed from his usual bowl of oatmeal with a side of fruit plus coffee. The fact that he was having a glass of orange juice while I ate surprised me.

Before I sat down, I walked into the mud room and took down my purse from the shelf where I stored it. I unzipped one of the inner pouches and produced the ultrasound printout strip. Nikolai had taken his usual seat at the end of the island and leaned back against the bar-height chair while he flipped through the business section of the paper. I slipped onto the seat next to him and smiled when reached out to stroke my back without looking up from the article he was reading.

"This isn't as good as seeing the baby in person but it's the next best thing." I unrolled the strip and flattened it on the milky white granite. "We won't have an ultrasound again until I'm sixteen weeks or so."

His face an unreadable mask, Nikolai set aside the paper and brushed the fingertips of his left hand down the strip of grainy images. He seemed almost afraid to touch them. Remembering the way he had gone to shower last night, I pieced together his hesitance. He wanted that ugly, viciously dirty side of his life never to touch me or the baby.

Reaching for his hand, I interlaced our fingers and held up the strip for him to examine. "The doctor says everything looks great. The baby is right on target. I had some bloodwork done yesterday. They're supposed to call me if anything is wrong."

Looking suddenly panicked, Nikolai asked, "Why would anything be wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

I squeezed his hand. "I feel perfectly fine. I'm still really tired in the evenings, but my nausea seems to be fading. Except for last night," I added, glancing toward the sink I had barely reached before erupting. "Poor Boy! He thought it was his fault I got sick, but the pasta dish he made was so tasty."

"I told him you were nervous and stressed about the show." Nikolai finally took the strip from me and placed it on the counter in front of him. He traced the image of our baby with his fingertip. "Do you think about him? About the color his hair will be or if he'll have your blue eyes?"

"All the time," I admitted. "But he? You think it's a boy?"

Nikolai shrugged. "I have a feeling."

"Do you want a son first?" Personally, I wasn't concerned about the sex. Boy or girl, we would likely have our hands full. From what I knew of Nikolai's early years, he had been an absolute hellion as a little boy. I hadn't been much better.

"A daughter would be easier," he said, his mouth slanting with a smile as he touched the image of our baby kicking its legs.

"Easier? How?"

"It would be easier to keep her out of this life. My father, your father and me? We aren't the best role models for a little boy."

"Don't say that." I cupped his cheek and turned his face. Nikolai projected so much strength and confidence, but the prospect of fatherhood seemed to unsettle him. "If anyone in the world can help him understand why he shouldn't make the same mistakes, it's you."

Nikolai swallowed. "I'm trying so hard to build something for our children, Vee. Something real. Something legitimate. Something that will make them proud of me."

"I know you are." I didn't have all the nitty gritty details, but I believed he would find a way.

"I'm sorry I missed this." Nikolai leaned over and kissed me. The citrus burst that accompanied his mouth left me wanting more. Pulling back, he brushed his knuckles across my cheek. "Did you hear the heartbeat? Dima said that was his favorite part of going with Benny for her appointments."

"I did. It was very strong."

"That's good." Regret darkened his eyes. "Next time."

I nodded and captured his mouth in a tender kiss. "Next time."

Nikolai's cell phone beeped and vibrated. He leaned across the counter to grab it and the small glass bottle of maple syrup. "Eat."

I drizzled the sticky sweet syrup on my French toast and glanced at his phone. "Who is it?"

"Artyom." He tapped at the screen. "He wants to know if it's okay to come inside."

Nikolai walked around the corner of the island and retrieved a pair of kitchen shears from a drawer. He clipped the top ultrasound photo free and pushed the rest of the strip toward me. I carefully tucked them into the pocket of my robe and watched him place the small image of our baby into his wallet.

I was taking my first bite when the three-fingered captain strode into our kitchen with Ilya a few steps behind him. I didn't know Ilya very well. He hadn't spent much time around Samovar while I was waitressing there. When he was there, he flirted outrageously with every other female employee but me. Ilya still made a point of standing far away from me and never being alone in a room with me. With his reputation as a Lothario, I suspected he didn't want to give Nikolai even the smallest reason to question his behavior.

"Good morning." I greeted the men who smiled and nodded at me. "There's coffee or tea if you'd like some."

Ilya took me up on the offer but Artyom strode closer. He removed the leather messenger bag he wore across his body, placed it on the counter, opened it up and retrieved five thick envelopes and one thin one. "I ran into Besian last night. He asked me to come over to his club and pick this up. He didn't want to hold it in his safe any longer."

"He doesn't owe me any money." Frowning, Nikolai extended his hand but Artyom shook his head.

"No, boss. These are Vivian's."

Nikolai froze. "Vivian's?"

Red-faced, I pulled the pile of envelopes toward me all while cursing Besian for being such a jerk. I could just imagine the mischievous laugh he had gotten out of this one. "Thank you, Arty."

Nikolai picked up one of the thick envelopes and thumbed through the stack of hundred dollar bills inside it. Seemingly taken aback, he asked, "Is there something you need to tell me?"

I sipped my tea and shrugged. "It was just a little bet on the soccer game yesterday and the fights you and Besian hosted earlier in the month."

"A little bet? This one maybe." He tapped the thin envelope. "But this one? Vivian, there's probably fifteen grand in that envelope."

"Sixteen-five," Arty corrected as he fixed a cup of coffee. "There's more in the bag. Apparently she got every single fight in the bracket right."

After digging through the bag and producing even more envelopes, Nikolai stared at me with a look of utter shock slacking his face. I realized I wasn't getting out of this uncomfortable situation. "Look, Papa used to bet a lot. Sometimes he would take me with him to see Afrim Barisha. I sort of, you know, learned how to place smart bets."

"Smart bets? Vivian, there's probably two hundred thousand dollars in this bag!"

The number left me dizzy. I couldn't believe three thousand hard-earned dollars had earned me that type of return. It was better than the stock market for sure. "Sergei had really good odds, and I had a pretty good feeling about Kelly so I pulled some money out of my emergency fund and…well…" I pointed to the bag. "That happened."

Staring at the piles of money on the counter, he asked, "How often are you placing bets?"

"It's not often. I've done this less than a five times in the last four years. I only did it when I needed the money for something unexpected." I drew a tiny "X" over my heart. "Swear."

"How did I not know about this?" Nikolai sounded both extremely annoyed and uncommonly confounded.

"She's betting under the old man's name," Arty answered very unhelpfully.

"Is that true? You're betting under your grandfather's old account?""

I glared at Arty and then nodded contritely at Nikolai. "Basically."

"Basically?"

"Well I wasn't going to put my name on the Albanian's books!"

"How did this start?
When
did this start?"

Exhaling with frustration, I put down my fork. "Look, when I was a freshman in college, I needed some quick cash for art supplies. There was this girl in my dorm who dated one of the running backs at A&M so I knew he had this leg thing going on so I sort of scraped together my tips for the week and went to see Besian about placing a bet on the Saturday game."

"You went to one of his clubs?" Now Nikolai was aghast.

"No. Not one of
those
clubs." That was a bit of news that would have gotten straight back to Nikolai. "No, I waited on him during the lunch rush and just sort of, you know, casually asked about placing a bet. He took my money and came back with my winnings during the Monday dinner service."

My husband's eyes narrowed. "Those big tips weren’t always tips."

"No."

"Vivian!"

"What? I paid taxes on the winnings because they came to me as tips. It's fine."

"It's not fine." He gestured to the bag in front of us. "You can't pay taxes on this."

I bit my lip. "I know. That's sort of why I hadn't gone to pick up my winnings yet."

"Jesus Christ, Vivian." He shook his head and huffed. "When were you going to tell me about this?"

"I was waiting for the right time." I nervously glanced at Arty and Ilya who were both looking anywhere but our direction. "That's not exactly a conversation starter that comes up easily. You've been busy lately."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a breath. I assumed he was thinking about the way he had totally screwed up yesterday by forgetting about our doctor's appointment. He couldn’t get too angry with me, not after I had forgiven him for his mistake.

He lowered his hand and captured my gaze. I gulped at the sight of his serious expression. "No more bets, Vivian. This is the last one."

"Okay."

"I mean it, Vee. You can't get mixed up in this. You have to be spotless." Touching the envelopes, he added, "Gambling is all fun and games when you're on a hot streak, but it's easy to get burned,
solnyshka
. Think about your friend Kelly and all the trouble his father's gambling caused. We can't have any weaknesses for our enemies to exploit."

When he put it like that, the full weight of my action registered. "I understand."

He caressed my face and smiled. "I’m not angry with you. Honestly I'm rather impressed and a little jealous." He claimed my lips with a sweet, soft kiss that assured me he really wasn't upset. "Now—what do you want to do with this?"