Nikolai 2 (Her Russian Protector #6) (24 page)

The results appeared in a flash. I scanned the page and felt my heart sinking. There, in full color, in glossy image after glossy image was the stunningly gorgeous blonde who had once been engaged to Nikolai. Her perfectly styled hair and artfully applied makeup complemented an extraordinary body with killer curves. She projected such confidence in her photographs. The Hong Kong skyline visible through the glass wall of her office gave off the impression of power and success. There was no doubt that she was the financial prodigy all of these articles claimed her to be.

Glancing over her resume, I slumped in the chair. She was perfect—on paper and in pictures. She might be living under a new identity, but I could tell Kostya had allowed her to keep her educational history when he built her new life. I understood now why Maksim had tried to force a marriage of convenience between Nikolai and Tatiana. Who wouldn't want a daughter-in-law like that?

From a purely financial standpoint, she would have been absolutely perfect. Even now, living halfway around the world under an assumed identity, she was a much better match for him. She possessed exactly the sort of connection a man like Nikolai needed. With her brains and skills and her international network of contacts, she would have been a huge help to him when it came to the shadier side of his life.

In short, Tatiana was everything I could never be. I was just a flighty artist with a dead mother and a fugitive ex-con father who was probably going to tip off the cartel version of World War III, if the newspaper articles I read every morning were to be believed. I was a heavy weight on Nikolai's shoulders and a burden I feared he was starting to regret taking on.

"You forgot this one." Ten entered the library with my iced tea. I closed the window as inconspicuously as possible and took the tea from his hand when he reached the desk. "Do you think you can eat? Maybe some soup and crackers?"

Wanting to be anywhere but the library where I would be tempted to keep digging into Tatiana's life, I stood up slowly. "I'll go make some toast."

"No. I'll make it. Go get comfortable in the living room or the media room. I'll find you."

"I don't need—"

"Go." He pointed to the doorway. "You need to rest."

I started to roll my eyes at his alpha caveman routine but then it occurred to me that this was his way of making sure I was okay. This was his way of taking care of me. He had promised to do this one job, and he clearly had every intention of doing it.

"I'll be in the media room."

"I'll bring your lunch. Take these." He handed me the rest of the smoothie and the cold tea. "Drink them."

I wandered into the media room and got comfy on the sectional in there. I was still trying to decide on a movie when Ten walked in with a large tray. He set it on the big square ottoman that doubled as a coffee table. One glance told me that the peanut butter toast, banana and glass of milk were for me while that stack of outrageously thick sandwiches, the bag of chips and the sodas were his.

"How can you eat like that and still have muscles like those?" I picked up my plate of toast and fruit and settled back into the corner I had chosen.

"I work out." He popped the tab on a can of soda. "A lot."

"Because?"

"It's good for me." He took a sip and stared at the television screen. "It helps me stay out of trouble. I feel…calmer."

"That's good, right?"

Ten nodded. "Now? Yes. Before, when I was on the street, it was better for me to be angry all the time. Hot-headed," he added. "It was useful. Now? Now I need to be calm. I need to simmer instead of boil."

I chewed a bite of my crisp toast and washed down the peanut butter and bread with some cold milk. Thinking of his reputation and the way he had described himself, I admitted, "I don't think I would have liked you very much back then."

Ten snorted and crunched chips between his teeth. "You don't like very much now."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?"

"You're growing on me."

Ten smiled, and I understood why he had such a reputation with women. He had perfected that flirtatious smile that hinted at danger and something more primal. "You're only saying that because I went shopping with you and carried your bags from one end of the Galleria to the other."

"Don't forget holding my hair while I tossed my cookies in a Starbucks parking lot," I added with an embarrassed blush.

He chuckled. "No, I don't think I'll be forgetting that anytime soon. It sure as hell wasn't in the job description. I'll be asking Nikolai for hazard pay tonight."

The mention of Nikolai dashed my spirits, but I managed to keep a smile in place for Ten. We settled on a sci-fi film and its sequel and lapsed into a comfortable silence. My mind strayed from the juicy plot of the movie. What was Nikolai doing right now? Was he still with her? Were they…?

I couldn't even bring myself to think the words. Hugging my waist, I stared at the screen and tried to lose myself in the films. The carbohydrate heavy lunch plus the smoothie and the normal exhaustion of pregnancy hit me hard as we were starting the second film. Not even the explosions and slick graphics could maintain my interest. My eyelids drifted together, and I surrendered to the heavy pull of sleep.

"Vee?" Fingertips trailed down my cheek. "
Zolota
."

Inhaling deeply, I blinked rapidly and came awake to the sight of Nikolai crouched down beside me. He wore a tender expression and gently stroked my face. "How are you feeling?"

His simple question caused a rush of emotions that left me feeling twisted and angry inside. Batting away his hand, I struggled to sit up on my own. "Where is Ten?"

Nikolai frowned and sat back on his heels. "He stayed here with you until I came home. He's gone, but I can get him back if you needed something."

"I'm fine."

"Are you?" He tilted his head as if to study me. "You don't look well."

"I'm fine." I repeated the words tersely and finally found the strength to shove off the sectional.

"No, you're not." Crouched in front of me again, he clasped my shoulders and peered at my face. "You look terrible."

"Gee, thanks." I pushed away his hands and struggled to my feet.

"Stop." He clutched at my waist but I was faster and got away from him. "Vee! Wait. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."
Everything
. My chest ached, and my stomach swirled. I didn't want to do this right now. I didn't want to hear him say what I feared most. Would he even tell me the truth?

"
Solnyshka
." He caught up with me at the door. His hand settled on my hip and he expertly spun me around until my back was against the wall. One hand cupped my face, and his thumb glided along my skin. The scent of his cologne and soap filled my nose. It was a smell that usually made my heart race and caused such primitive, lustful urges. Right now, I inhaled the smell but for all the wrong reasons. I wasn't try to breathe him in. No, I was searching for a hint of
her.

"Vee," he whispered. "What's wrong?"

My head cleared, and I took a good, long look at him. The color of his tie and shirt caught my attention. Last night, when I had come to bed after him, I had seen the suit, tie and shirt he had selected for today hanging in the closet. He had chosen a grey suit, white shirt, and a navy tie with pale blue diagonal stripes.

But he was wearing the steel blue tie with the delicate silver circle pattern that he kept in the office at Samovar with his backup white shirt.

"What happened to your other shirt and tie?"

His hand dropped from my face, and he glanced down at his chest. "There was a spill at the restaurant."

"At Samovar?" I couldn't help the suspicious tone that invaded my voice.

He nodded. "Lidia didn't see me coming across the floor. You know how clumsy she can be."

It was the perfect cover story. I had been there the night Lidia had
accidentally
spilled a glass of red wine all over Bianca. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe it really had happened that way.

Or maybe he had dumped the shirt and tie because they were saturated in her perfume or stained with her lipstick.

"Did you get everything you needed at the mall?" He tucked stray strands of my hair behind my ear. Had he done the same thing for Tatiana? Had the hands that I loved so much touched her intimately? Lovingly?

"Yes." My voice was soft and small. It was all I could do to stand there and not break down in front of him. I wasn't sure where the strength that welled inside me came from but I embraced it. I wasn't going to cry. Not now. "And you? How was your day?"

He shrugged. "It was the same as every other day. Business as usual."

There wasn't a trace of anything suspicious on his face. If I hadn't overheard him with Tatiana today, I never would have even suspected anything was wrong. The wrongness of this whole fucking mess hit me like a punch to the gut.

Nikolai, my husband and the only man I had ever loved, was standing in front of me, had me pressed between a wall and his hard, hot body while his possessive hands cupped and caressed my skin—and he was lying to me. He was lying right through his teeth.

The realization that I had been so easily fooled by him took me out at the knees. My entire world started to tilt, and only his arms kept me from hitting the ground. I crumpled against him. The feel of his powerful arms scooping me up was a sensation I loved and hated in the same moment. Unbidden images of Nikolai,
my
Nikolai, sweeping up Tatiana and tossing her on a messy hotel bed flashed in front of me.

Not mine
, I glumly acknowledged. Maybe he was never mine. She had a claim on him first, didn't she? In reality, I was the interloper.

"You need to rest," Nikolai urged as he carried me upstairs and into our bedroom. "Pregnancy, stress and the heat aren't a good mix for you."

I bit back a bitter laugh.
Stress? The stress you're causing me, you mean?

But I didn't say the words. I wasn't brave enough, and I was tired. I was so damn tired.

He tugged back the comforter and top sheet with one hand and placed me onto my side of the bed. I didn't move and avoided looking at his face as he removed all of my clothing. He ducked into the closet and returned with one of my loose cotton nightgowns. Once I was clothed again, he pressed me back to the bed and covered me with the sheet.

His hip touched mine as he stroked my face. "Are you hungry? Would you like me to bring you dinner?"

The thought of eating made my stomach clench. "No. I just…I want to sleep."

His face tight with worry, Nikolai studied me for a long, unnerving moment. Finally, he leaned forward and kissed my forehead. His lips lingered on my skin, and he caressed my cheek. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He sat there for a few seconds, and I wondered if he was trying to work up the courage to tell me the truth about where he had been today and about Tatiana. My heartbeat ticked up a few notches as I waited and wondered, but in the end, he simply stood up and left the bedroom.

Curled on my side, I tugged the sheet over my head. I tried to stop the hot tears that erupted from the corners of my eyes, but it was impossible. There was no stopping them. Betrayed and heartbroken, I cried quietly in the darkness as one question rattled round and round in my head.

What else wasn't he telling me?

Chapter Twelve

Nikolai didn't come clean with me the next day or the next. We were leaving for London tomorrow evening, and I didn't know how much more of the lies I could take. He wasn't around the house very much because he was so busy trying to get everything situated before we left on our short holiday. I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

After the shock had worn off, I wanted to confront him, but he had to be present for that to happen. Some part of me still believed there was an innocent explanation for Tatiana's return to Houston and the lunch date I had stumbled across. It was the silly, naïve part of me that desperately wanted everything to be smoothed over easily. It was the side of me that was going to be slain and broken, left bleeding on the floor and writhing in agony when the ugly, painful truth finally came spilling out of Nikolai's mouth.

"Miss Vivian?" Roman Boychenko popped his head into the sunroom-slash-studio. Not long out of high school, he still had a sweetness about him that the other men who ran with Nikolai had long ago lost.

"Yes?" I swirled one of my brushes in the small pool of mineral spirits in the Mason jar near the sink that had been installed in my home studio. The scent of paint thinner had been too much for me to handle in the earliest days of my pregnancy so I had switched to the less smelly but more expensive spirits for cleanup.

"You have a visitor."

"You can send them back here." I watched the thin streaks of brick red pigment blossom in the jar. "I'm cleaning brushes."

"I don't think he wants to come back here." Boychenko took a step into the room. "I can do that for you. I remember the steps you taught me." As if ticking them off for a test, he said, "First I use newspaper to squeeze the excess paint off the bristles. I swish them in the paint thinner and then I use the newspaper again. Then I use that pink bottle of soap. I squirt it into the palm of my hand and clean the bristles until the foam is white."