Nikolai 2 (Her Russian Protector #6) (23 page)

I wasn't sure whether it was a good idea to interrupt a business meeting. I doubted that he would bring a business contact of the illegal sort to such a public place so the risk of meeting someone or overhearing something I shouldn't was low. Certain he wouldn't mind if I popped in to say hello, I smiled at the waiter and glanced at his nametag. "Would you mind, Rob?"

"Not at all, ma'am." He gestured toward the wine room. "This way."

We shared some friendly chit-chat as he led me across the main floor to the tucked away wine room and the private dining area hidden away there. When we neared the entrance, he smiled at me and gestured for me to go ahead before pivoting on his heel and heading back to the floor to serve his guests. I walked toward the doorway but stopped abruptly at the sound of a woman's sultry voice and Nikolai's laughter.

With hand on the wall to steady myself, I gripped the straps of my purse in the other and listened intently to the familiar tenor of Nikolai's voice. The string of Russian that left his mouth sounded unhurried and easy, his comfort with the unknown woman evident in the gentle way he spoke with her.

"So when do I get to meet your wife?" she asked, her Russian as languid and soft as his.

Nikolai issued an amused snort. "Never."

Feminine laughter filled the air. "I never took you for the type to marry a jealous woman."

"That's not—it's complicated, Tanya."

Tanya?
My stomach dropped.
Tatiana.
He was having a secret lunch with Tatiana, the woman he had sworn he hadn't seen in years and wouldn't ever see again. So much for being dead to him!

"Does she know?"

"About us?" he asked. "Yes, I told her."

"You told her everything?"

My head throbbed with every pulse of my heartbeat. I held my breath and waited for his answer.

"No," he conceded. "Not everything."

"You didn't tell her about the baby." It was a statement. Not a question.

Baby? What baby?

"No," he answered quickly. "She doesn't need to know about any of that. It will open up too may old wounds—for everyone."

"Far be it from me to tell you how to run your marriage—"

"Then don't," Nikolai replied, a warning edge to his voice. "I didn't come here for marriage advice."

"Why did you come?"

"Don't play coy, Tanya. You know why I'm here."

"Then why are we wasting time with lunch? Surely our business is better conducted upstairs in my suite." The teasing, flirtatious tone to her voice clawed at my heart.

"Because this little stunt of yours dragged me out of bed before I had my breakfast and the striped bass here is one of the best in town," he replied matter-of-factly. "Our business can wait…"

He didn't mean…? He wouldn't. He simply wouldn't.

Except…

He was here with her now, wasn't he? What was to stop him from going upstairs with her?

He loves me. It's me. It's only ever been me. I'm his sun
.

"For dessert," he added almost playfully. "In the suite."

An ice-cold current raced through my body. My brain couldn't process what my ears had just heard. I didn't know what to do. My courage fled in that moment. All I wanted to do was run. I wanted to get the hell out of here.

Stomach swirling, heart racing and mouth dry, I retreated from the private dining room with the smallest, quietest footsteps possible. The soft soles of my ballet flats made not even a whisper of noise as I backed down the hall. Clutching my purse and fighting the nausea that overwhelmed me, I emerged into the main dining room—and slammed right into Ten's brawny chest.

Two massive hands carefully clasped my shoulders. Ten peered down at me with concern. "Are you okay? Erin said she didn't see you. I was worried."

Still in shock and feeling sick, I sputtered a lie. "I…I…got lost." I sucked in a harsh breath. "I got lost."

"Vivian," Ten said forcefully. "Are you okay? You look pale."

"It's the noise and the smells." I had already lied to him once so the next one came so easily. "Can we go?"

"Yes. Of course." He placed his hand against my upper back and guided me toward the front of the restaurant where Erin was tapping her foot and anxiously scanning for me.

When she spotted us, her brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"She's not feeling well. I think she's been pushing herself too hard for the show and the trip to London." Like a true bodyguard, he shielded me both physically and emotionally. He didn't need me to tell him the truth. He could tell I had been badly rattled by something and needed protecting.

Embracing her inner mother, Erin clucked her teeth and sidled close to me. "Why don't we get you home, okay? We have a dozen chances for lunch or dinner while we're in London next week, right?"

"Right," I answered with a slight nod. The shock of overhearing Nikolai and Tatiana and the uncertainty of what, exactly, I had overheard rendered me nearly mute. I let Erin guide me toward the elevators and out of the hotel. Like a robot, I participated in the conversation swirling around me on the ride back to the house. Somehow I managed to keep my answers from sounding mechanic and cold. Somehow I managed not to break down.

After a warm, lingering hug from Erin and a promise to call her if I needed anything, I sat in the front passenger seat and watched Ten walk her inside the Tanglewood mansion she shared with Ivan. Ten returned quickly and slid behind the wheel. He shot me a concerned look as he followed the horseshoe driveway to the street. "Vivian, are you all right? Do I need to take you to the hospital?"

"No, I'm fine. It's nothing like that."

"You're sure?" He glanced at my stomach. "The baby?"

"Is fine," I assured him. "The baby is just fine."

Ten wasn't convinced. When we reached the first stop sign, he expelled a rough breath. "Do you want me to call the boss? He'll come home if you need him."

"No!" The word came out too harshly. Softening my voice, I repeated myself. "No. I'm fine. We don’t—I don't want to bother him."

Scowling, Ten shook his head. "What happened back there? You look like you saw a ghost."

"I didn't see anything. I just got lost and then I didn't feel well." He had no idea how close he had come to hitting the mark, but I didn't want to say anything until I could ascertain how much he knew about Nikolai's schedule today. Stomach wobbling dangerously, I projected calmness and asked, "Where is Nikolai today?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Samovar, I expect. If he's not at the restaurant, he's taking meetings around town." His gaze skipped from the road to me. "I can get him for you. It won't be a problem. One phone call—and he'll come for you."

The sincerity on Ten's face convinced me. He knew nothing of the secret meeting. There was no way he would have let us go to the Four Seasons for lunch if he had known there was even the slightest chance we could have a run-in with Nikolai and Tatiana.

That left me wondering what he knew of Tatiana. But how the hell was I supposed to ask a question like that without rousing too much suspicion?

Thinking of Lena's phone call, I had a better idea of how to do it. "Ten?"

"Yeah?"

"You know my friend Lena?"

"The one who dates Yuri? I don't know her, but I know who she is. Why?"

"She called me earlier and said that there were some reporters poking around and asking questions."

His jaw hardened, and his eyes glinted fiercely when his gaze shifted toward me. "What types of questions?"

"They wanted to know about our ties to different people."

"Like?"

Glad he had taken the bait, I said, "Well, there were two names. One was Evgeni Zhukov."

"Ev?" He used the nickname with enough familiarity and a ghost of a smile that I assumed they were more than mere acquaintances. "He's from the old country." Ten grinned at the joke he had made. "We grew up together. Me, Ev, Artyom, Ilya," he clarified. "Three of us went bad but not Ev. His mama made sure that he went to university. He went off to London and made a fortune in finance. Now he's like Yuri."

"So why would a reporter be asking about him?"

"He's Russian. He's rich. Nikolai is connected to lots of rich Russians."

"And is he connected to Evgeni?"

Ten kept his gaze fixed forward. "That's not a question for me to answer."

I huffed and leaned back in my seat. Deciding it was now or never, I asked, "What about Tatiana Melnikova?"

He shrugged. "I don't know that name."

"Lena said that she thinks she might have gone by a different name when she lived in Houston a while ago. She was Tatiana Filipova then."

The only clue that he recognized her name was the clench of his hands on the steering wheel. "What about her?"

"Are we really going to sit here and play this game?"

He didn't look at me. "Whatever you know about her is what you're supposed to know about her. You won't get anything else out of me."

His reply frustrated me, but I didn't push. It wasn't fair of me to put him in this position. His loyalties to Nikolai trumped his loyalties to me. That much was clear. I couldn't be angry or upset with him for that. I could only imagine what the two men had been through together.

"Listen," Ten said in a surprisingly gentle voice. "Tatiana was the past. She's dead. I was with Kostya when he found her body. No one could have survived that car wreck. No one." His hand cut through the air like a knife. "This Tatiana Melnikova woman? She's not Tanya Filipova. It's impossible. So there's nothing that you or a reporter need to worry about, okay?"

I nodded in silent reply and turned to look out the window. The fact that Ten believed Tatiana was dead and that she couldn't possibly be alive or living under a different name left me with even more questions. Knowing Kostya's reputation, he could have manufactured a fake death for her. Having Ten with him to discover the body would have given the lie a strong foundation.

But if Nikolai had gone to all that trouble to help her disappear, why was she back now? If she had been in trouble, there were easier ways to contact him than flying halfway around the world to see him in person. No, if she had come here, she wanted something important.

Why had he agreed to meet her? Why were they having lunch? In a hotel? I recalled the conversation I had overheard. They hadn't sound like two people who disliked each other. They had sounded friendly,
too
friendly.

My stomach threatened to revolt at any minute. I breathed slowly and calmly and kept a tight handle on my seat belt strap. Images of Nikolai alone with Tatiana tormented me. I didn't know what she looked like so my mind created a vision of her from the clues I had. I thought of the Russian-born women who often frequented Samovar to create a picture of a woman who was tall, blonde and beautiful with a keen eye for fashion.

What were they doing right now? Were they still tucked away in that cozy, quiet dining area of the wine cellar or was it even worse? Had they gone up to her suite? I brought a hand to my mouth and closed my eyes as my stomach churned violently.

Ten reacted before I even knew that I was about to be sick. We had just crossed the 610 Loop and were barreling down busy San Felipe Street. He crushed the brake beneath his boot, signaled for a right turn and whipped into the parking lot of the Starbucks. He pulled into a corner spot and reached over to unbuckle my belt. I scrambled from the SUV and barely made it to the grass. Ten was there a moment later, his strong arms bracing me as I heaved pitifully.

When I was done, I sagged against him. He got me out of the sweltering, suffocating heat and back into our idling vehicle. I sat there like a child while he retrieved a travel-sized package of wipes from the glove box. He carefully cleaned my hands and face and then offered me a stick of cinnamon-flavored gum. Touching my shoulder, he captured my gaze. "Stay here. Lock the door. I'll be right back."

He waited outside the closed door until he heard it lock before hurrying across the parking lot. Embarrassed but grateful for my complicated, grouchy bodyguard, I began to understand what Ivan had been trying to tell me about Ten. The former enforcer had done
terrible
things, but he had a softness inside him that was proving to be exactly what I needed.

When Ten returned, he had a plain iced tea and a chocolate smoothie for me. "Drink this. All of it," he ordered. "If you keep getting sick like this, I'm calling the boss and taking you to the hospital."

It wasn't a threat or a warning. True concern radiated off of him in waves. I accepted the smoothie from him and put the iced tea in the cup holder. "I'll be fine. It's just morning sickness."

He didn't believe me. As he buckled his belt, he grumbled, "One of these days you'll learn to trust me."

"One of these days," I murmured. "Yes."

We drove home in silence, and I went straight for the library while he carried my bags upstairs. I started to close the door but stopped. The last thing I wanted was another argument with him. I walked to the desk I had set up as my work station and opened my laptop. After logging in, I went straight to my internet browser and hit up Google. Unable to help myself, I typed in Tatiana's assumed name and hit enter.