Nikolai 2 (Her Russian Protector #6) (29 page)

Bianca engulfed me in one of her trademark hugs and air-kissed my cheeks before squeezing onto the loveseat with me. As always, she looked as if she had just stepped off the pages of a high-end plus-sized fashion magazine. There was a reason her wedding dress designs were so popular. She had an eye for style that not even Lena could beat.

"Are you all right?" Bianca asked quietly. "You seem…distant."

"It's nerves." I played it off with a wave of my hand. "You look really happy. You're, like, glowing and I bet you haven't stopped smiling since the last time I saw you."

Bianca lowered her gaze in a demure way. "I'm a very lucky girl."

I glanced at Sergei who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Ivan and Yuri. The handsome behemoth had been the one guy every waitress at Samovar had wanted to date for a reason. He wasn't just good-looking. He was the perfect package. He balanced that alpha personality of his with kindness and respect and such sweetness.

Of course, if the rumors were to be believed he was something of a god between the sheets. Realizing Sergei was headed my way, I quickly cleared
that
salacious thought from my mind. I hoped he wouldn’t able to tell that I had been thinking of him in that way. He would never stop teasing me if he suspected for one second that I wondered if the tales of his virility and sexual prowess were true. Then again, judging by the elated smile permanently plastered on Bianca's face these days, those stories were probably understated.

But Sergei wasn't smiling when he sat down in the spot Bianca had vacated a few seconds earlier so she could get a better look at the photos Lena was showing off on her phone. His sad, apologetic expression took me back to a morning so many months earlier. It was the morning I had come downstairs after spending my wedding night alone to find Nikolai still gone and only Sergei waiting for me. It had been a morning filled with disappointment and heartache.

Something told me we were about to relive the awfulness of that morning.

As I stared at Sergei's face, I guessed what he was about to say. It wasn't hard to piece together the clues. Slipping into Russian, I whispered, "He's not coming."

Sergei's eyes closed briefly. He shook his head and then reached for my hand. His massive paw engulfed my fingers. "If he could be here—"

"I know." Resigned and heartbroken, I refused to cry. I had done enough of that over the last week to last me a lifetime. I was finished feeling sorry for myself. I had earned this trip with my hard work and talent, and I was going to make the most of it.

Even if I had to do it alone.

I smiled broadly and pretended that I wasn't the least bit bothered. If I wasn't a priority for Nikolai, then he wasn't going to be one of mine. I shoved him out of my thoughts and concentrated only on my friends and the trip ahead of me. Grabbing my messenger bag, I stood up. "Tell Yuri we're ready to go. London's calling."

Sergei nodded slowly and rose to his feet with obvious hesitation. He wanted to say something, but he didn't. He did as I'd asked and soon we were boarding the plane. Ten followed us out to the tarmac and waited until I had gotten safely onboard to leave. Whatever his faults, he was trying to do right by me as my bodyguard.

I didn't pay any attention to the couples sitting down together on the plane. I chose a seat in an empty row and opened the window. I didn't get the chance to fly much, and I had never flown overseas. I doubted I would ever again fly on a private jet like this one.

Like everything else Yuri did, he had gone overboard with his plane. The seats were luxurious and roomy. The gleaming walnut accents in the main cabin were gorgeous. Farther back in the plane, there was a dining area and a media room. I could just imagine what the bathrooms were like.

Soon, we were in the air and rocketing toward London. A gourmet meal was served about an hour into the flight. I found myself seated between Yuri and Bianca. They kept me entertained and in good spirits. No one mentioned Nikolai's absence, but I sensed Yuri and Ivan were angry on my behalf.

Somehow Lena and Erin wrangled me into joining a game of poker. We hadn't played in almost a year. Lena had an uncanny knack for game so I was glad we were only playing for fun.

"I'm not very good at poker," Bianca apologized as she set up her small stack of chips.

"It doesn’t matter," Erin reassured her. "We don't stand a chance against Vivian or Lena." She sipped her glass of moscato and then laughed. "When we were in college, I watched these two clean out an entire frat house the week before Spring Break started. They used their ill-gotten gains for a wild vacation to Punta Cana."

My memories of that trip were hazy at best. It had been the one and only time I had thrown caution to the wind. I cringed as Erin recounted some of our more embarrassing moments on the beautiful sun-soaked beaches of the Dominican Republic. Before I knew it, we were reminiscing about high school and college and marveling at how far we had come in our short lives. The four of us had accomplished so much, both professionally and personally. More and more, I believed it was the support and love we had for each other that had made those successes possible.

As predicted, Lena and I beat the pants off of Erin and Bianca. It was all in good fun, and we were all smiling and laughing as we cleaned up the cards and chips and moved to our seats to settle in for the night. I reclined mine fully and cuddled up under a blanket. Sleep didn't come easily though. Every little noise on the plane got my attention. Yuri stayed up late somewhere in rear of the plane making phone calls.

When he had wrapped up his business, he returned to the seats he and Lena had claimed in front of me. A moment after he had reclined and gotten comfortable, Lena scooted toward him. I heard him whisper sweetly to her before dragging her into his arms and making room for her in the wide, cushy seat. She draped herself over him, and he kissed the top of her head while telling her how much he loved her.

I tugged the blanket over my head to give the couple some privacy. Not far from me, Bianca and Sergei were undoubtedly curled up together in a similar fashion. I didn't dare glance back at the corner seats Erin and Ivan had taken. Those two were insatiable, so insatiable and hungry for each other that I wasn't the least bit surprised when I heard Erin get up an hour or so later and disappear toward the rear of the plane. Ivan followed a few minutes later.

I was simultaneously amused and envious. It was hard not to feel out of place among all these happy, loving couples. Glad for the exhaustion that finally overwhelmed me, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. I woke a long time later with a painful ache in my neck and the worst case of heartburn. I reached for my cell phone in the cup holder where I had stored it earlier and pulled it under the blanket so I could glance at the screen without waking everyone else on the plane with the bright light.

We were still four hours away from London by my calculation. Not wanting to bother my friends by calling for one of the attendants, I quietly slipped out of my seat and walked back to the rear of the plane. I had seen a first aid kit attached to the wall near the bathroom. Hopefully it had some antacids in it.

I managed to detach the heavy box from the wall and carried it to the dining table. The dimmed lights made the task more difficult than it should have been. I was sorting through the compartments when the door to this section of the plane opened quietly and Yuri appeared. He wore an expression of concern. "Are you all right?"

I rubbed at my burning chest and grimaced at the sour taste invading my mouth. "I have heartburn. I didn't pack any antacids in my purse or carryon."

"Oh." He walked to a cabinet near the small wet bar, opened the door and retrieved a bottle of fruit-flavored tablets and a bottle of liquid medication. "The stress and travel plus the food and strange meal times kills me," he explained as he placed them on the table. "If it's really bad, I would use this one." He shook the liquid. "It tastes terrible, but it works fast."

"Terrible it is, then," I decided as I gulped in agony. The burning sensation was spreading, and I swore I would never, ever eat curry again. I didn't care how delicious it had been. This was sheer torture.

"Here." Yuri handed me a soup spoon from the closest drawer. "I lost the cup that comes with it. One spoon usually does the trick for me."

I unscrewed the cap and sniffed the liquid. It had a bizarrely strong cherry scent. After measuring out what looked like two or three teaspoons of the thick fluid, I knocked it back before I lost my nerve. I managed not to gag as I swallowed it down, but the taste clinging to my tongue was too much for me to handle.

Yuri must have read my mind. He grabbed a bottle of water from the counter, yanked off the cap and pressed it into my hand. I took a drink, swished it around my mouth and leaned forward to spit it into the sink. The movement must have parted my hair and given Yuri his first glimpse of my tattoo.

He stepped close to me and ran his fingers over my skin. I jumped at the sensation of his unexpected touch and nearly knocked him over when I straightened up. He immediately stepped back and held up his hands. "I'm sorry, Vivian. That was over the line."

"It's okay. I just didn't expect it."

"No, I should have asked before touching you. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," I assured him with a smile. The antacid was already soothing the raging fire consuming my throat and stomach, and I relaxed against the counter. I sensed Yuri wanted to know the story behind the tattoo. "You can ask."

The corners of his mouth lifted. "When?"

"We had them done in April."

"We? So Nikolai has a matching one?"

"Yes. In the same place," I said, reaching back to touch the mark on my neck.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Nikolai's entire life is told in the tattoos on his body. They're a roadmap of all the things he's survived and all the bad things he's done. It's about time he put something good on his body. He needs to remember how lucky he is to have you as his wife."

I didn't know what to say to that, not after the awful week that had battered our marriage from all sides.

"Can I give you some advice?"

I eyed him wearily but nodded. "Sure."

"When he finally gets to London, you need to put Kolya in his place."

Yuri's phrase surprised me—and left me very suspicious. "How did—?"

"I've known Artyom since we were teenagers."

That was all he had to say. Arty had been there last night. He had heard every single ugly word.

"Kolya is my best friend. I love him. He's a brother to me—but he's a difficult man. He's complicated in the extreme."

"I know," I quietly agreed.

"That doesn't give him the right to talk to you that way." Yuri shook his head. "Vivian, you're just too damned sweet. You're too loving and forgiving. He needs your love. It's healing him, but he also needs a firm hand."

"A firm hand?"

"He may be the boss of Houston, but
you
are the boss of your home. He should come home every night, drop down to his fucking knees, kiss your feet and thank you for the privilege of groveling."

Eyes wide, I chortled at his description. "That's never going to happen."

He shot me a mischievous look. "Never say never, Vivian."

Now I was blushing. "No. Never."

"That was a bit of hyperbole, but you understand what I'm trying to say, right? He married
up.
You are too fucking good for him. He needs to remember how lucky he is that you love him. If he can't take care of you the way he promised, then someone else will."

Yuri's advice kept me awake long after we had returned to our seats. Curled on my side facing the open window, I burrowed deep under the blanket and resolved to do exactly as Yuri had suggested. When Nikolai finally made it to London, I was taking control. Not in that weirdly kinky way that Yuri had suggested, though. That was too far outside my comfort zone. I didn't think I could even deliver a command like that with a straight face.

Tired from two nights with little sleep and the emotional rollercoaster I had been riding, I walked like a zombie out of the airport and fumbled for my sunglasses as I squinted against the bright morning sun. I made it into one of the cars waiting to take us to Yuri's penthouse. Like the plane, his Knightsbridge property was opulent and included the entire top floor of a historic mansion that had been converted to private luxury apartments. It was clear that Yuri had spared no expense in the renovation of his space.

Breakfast on the rooftop terrace was lovely, but my sagging eyelids didn't go unnoticed. Not long after Bianca and Sergei left, I excused myself for a much-needed nap. Lena showed me to my room. It was on the opposite end of the penthouse from their master suite and provided me with plenty of privacy. After a quick hug and instructions to make myself at home, Lena left me in peace.

I headed straight for the lavishly decorated bathroom, stripped out of my clothes and stepped into a steamy shower. Because I was so out of it with exhaustion, I didn't even remember to grab my toiletry bag from suitcase. Luckily, there was a selection of travel-sized toiletries in one of the tiled alcoves of the walk-in shower.

Squeaky clean and bright pink from the warm water, I emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed but just as tired. I almost climbed right into bed, but the thought of waking to knotted, tangled hair stopped me. My luggage and Nikolai's had been set up in the corner of the room. I ignored the pang of sadness that reverberated in my chest when I touched his suitcase and forced my feet to keep moving to my own oversized piece of luggage.