Nikolai 2 (Her Russian Protector #6) (36 page)

"I'm a hopeless optimistic."

"Nikolai is going to snap when he sees these photographs, Niels. Let's not push it with nudes."

"I think that's exactly why you agreed to let me take these." Niels moved into a different crouched position. "I think you want to make him angry. You want him seething with jealousy and wondering just how much of that sweet, nubile body of yours I've seen and touched."

"Niels," I warned.

"You aren't the first woman to use me to hurt a husband or boyfriend, and you won't be the last."

I looked back at him. "That's not what this is."

"You can tell yourself that, but I know the truth."

Was he right? Had I agreed to do this because some part of me wanted to see how Nikolai would react? What kind of person did that make me? Petty? Smart? Mean? Vengeful?

"Tell me about your mother."

The question caught me off guard. I glanced back at him, but he scolded me rather sharply. "Turn around."

On reflex, I did as directed.

"Tell me about your mother."

"I…" What could I say about her? I had put the turbulent, violent memories of my troubled mother into a pretend box that I had stowed away in a corner of my mind I rarely visited. It was a Pandora's Box of pain I had no interest in opening—ever. "There's not much to say about her."

"That's not what I've heard. Turn your head to the left. Yes. Just like that. Hold."

The camera clicked four or five times.

"I heard that your mother tried to drown you in a filthy, roach-infested bathroom at some flophouse where she was hiding out from your father's enemies. I heard a young, skinny pimp called Nickel Jackson kicked down the door because he could hear you screaming. I heard your mother stabbed him and then ran off into the night, naked and bloodied and—"

"Stop," I whispered, my heart racing and my stomach trembling. "Just stop."

But he didn't. "Is that what scares you most, Vivian? Is it the fear that deep down inside that same monster that consumed her is waiting to claw its way out of you?"

"Please…"

"Look at me." The harsh, cold edge to his voice gripped me in its thrall. "Look at me!"

So I did. I looked back at him. A single tear dripped from the corner of my eye and rode the curve of my cheek. Niels snapped photo after photo while I held that pose.

When he had what he wanted, he set aside his camera and hurriedly crossed the distance between us. He wiped the wetness from my face and gazed down at me as if he expected me to shatter into a million pieces.

"You're a bastard," I snarled and shoved at his chest.

"Yes." He didn't even try to deny it. "I'm a sadist. It's my nature to push and hurt and cause pain." He tugged the bottom of his shirt from his trousers and used the soft fabric to dab at my face. "It wasn't done lightly. When you see the photo, you'll understand."

In some strange way, the idea that we had achieved the perfect shot lessened my anger toward him. It made the emotional turmoil he had forced upon me seem somehow all right and worth it. A little pain for a hauntingly beautiful moment forever encapsulated? It was a small price to pay. For an artist, at least.

"Don't ever do that again, Niels." I held his gaze and made sure he understood I was serious. "My mother, my father, my childhood—that's off-limits."

"Absolutely," he agreed without hesitation. "I will never make you cry again."

"I won't give you the chance."

"No, I don't you think you will." He stepped back and gestured toward the bed. "Now that the hard part is finished, why don't we have a little fun?"

"Excuse me?" He wasn't asking for
that
was he?

He chuckled at my reaction. "I meant a boudoir photo session. Classy with very little skin," he promised. "We'll aim for sensual—and jealousy-inducing. I want Nikolai jumping over my desk and clawing at my throat when he sees these photos."

The image was one that I shamefully found exhilarating. "You're playing with fire."

"I love the burn." He held out his hand. "Come,
min lille en
. Let me have my way with you."

Feeling mischievous, I placed my hand atop his. "I'm all yours."

Chapter Nineteen

Still feeling off-kilter and slightly nauseated, Nikolai entered Niels Mikkelsen's grand country estate. The understated opulence was exactly what he would have expected from the billionaire descended from Danish nobility. Whatever his feelings toward the tycoon, Nikolai grudgingly conceded he wasn't a flashy bastard like some ultra-wealthy men.

"Mr. Mikkelsen is waiting for you in his study. If you'll follow me, sir."

Nikolai didn't move. "I didn't catch your name."

"René, sir. I serve as Mr. Mikkelsens's majordomo."

Majordomo?
He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Only Niels would be so fucking pretentious as to call his personal assistant a majordomo.

"This way, sir."

Nikolai had no choice but to follow. As big as the house was, he would be searching rooms until sunrise to find Vivian. His gut churned at the image of his wife sprawled naked in another man's bed, her wild black hair splayed on the pillows and the silken sheets twisted around her thighs. How long since he had last been cushioned between those lush legs of hers? Too long. Too fucking long.

He ached for Vivian. It wasn't only a physical torment, a craving that couldn't be sated by anyone but her, but emotional and mental. His fragmented soul ached for her. It was her love and sweetness that fueled his desire to be good. Without her, he feared what he would become.

René stopped outside a pair of double doors and rapped his knuckles against the wood. "Mr. Mikkelsen, sir?"

"Send him in, René."

The majordomo opened the door, stepped aside and gestured for Nikolai to enter. He walked into the room, and the door was shut firmly behind him. Nikolai spotted a desk directly across from him but Niels wasn't there. The glow of computer monitors off to his right drew his attention. He glanced in that direction—and sucked in a choked, harsh breath.

Black and white photos of Vivian filled the six screens mounted on the wall. The photos of Vivian wearing a white fur and diamonds—and
only
a white fur and diamonds judging by the erotic glimpses of her supple skin—taunted him. Niels had captured her with that aroused expression that—until today—had belonged to him and only him. The knowledge that Niels had seen something that was his and his alone both enraged and shattered him.

"She's lovely, isn't she?" Niels sat in a chair and swirled a glass of liquor.

"She's my wife." Nikolai ground out the words through a jaw clenched so tightly he was certain it would break at any moment.

Niels set aside his glass and rose from his chair. He leveled a hard stare. "I'm glad that you've finally remembered that fact."

"I never forgot."

"Does she know that?"

Nikolai glared at Niels. "Our marriage isn't any of your fucking business."

"That's your opinion. Vivian is my friend. I care for her. I want her to be happy and fulfilled. Until recently, you made her happy. Now I get the feeling that you've become a source of pain and sadness."

It was a charge Nikolai couldn't deny. "We've hit a rough patch."

"They happen not infrequently in all relationships." Niels strode to the bar, uncorked a bottle of Armagnac and splashed some into a glass. "Here. You look like you could use this."

The twice-distilled brandy wasn't his favorite, but he wasn't about to turn it down. Typically, he would savor a fine XO bottling like this one, but after sitting in a cramped boat and filling his nose with cigarette smoke, it would be wasted on his ruined palate. He smelled only the salty brine of the ocean and could taste only the strong bite of the mint that René had given him.

He sipped a small amount of the French brandy and let it roll around his mouth. The alcohol stripped his mouth of the mint flavor and cleared his nasal passages. Even so, the delicate notes of apricot and pepper that he would have expected in this brand evaded him tonight.

Not really caring about the experience, he knocked back the glass in one hard slug and inhaled a fiery breath as it burned his throat and blazed through his chest.

"That bad of a night, huh?" Niels carried over the short, fat bottle and splashed more into his glass. "Anders and Coos are two of the best captains for making that awful little trip, but sometimes the sea is against you."

Nikolai collapsed into the nearest chair and rubbed his haggard face. "You own the boats?"

Niels settled into the seat across from him. "Unfortunately, yes. That was the price I paid for a reckless youthful indiscretion and a mistake that can never be undone." He sipped his Armagnac, but his mind seemed to be following an old trail of memories. "I provide the boats, crews and bribes to make their drug trafficking possible. There are many, many, many layers between me and all of that mess, but someday, probably when I least expect it, the past will finally catch up to me."

"I know that feeling of dread." Nikolai drank his brandy a little slower this time.

"Let it go for now. You're safe here."

"In London?" he scoffed. "Hardly."

"In my home," Niels corrected. "No one and nothing can touch you or Vivian here."

Nikolai's hand stopped halfway to his mouth. He lowered his glass. "Is that why she's here? Do you know something?"

Niels drained his glass and set it aside. "When you didn't make your flight, I was mildly concerned, but Vivian was with Yuri so I felt she would be safe there. When I heard you might be coming across on one of my boats, I grew anxious and put a team of my security officers on her. She hasn't been out of my sight or beyond my reach since Monday evening. I knew that Yuri and Lena were planning on attending a gala tonight so I came up with as many reasons as possible to keep Vivian with me, just in case."

It would have been churlish to ask why Niels put so much thought into securing Vivian. Instead, Nikolai offered his gratitude. "Thank you."

"Someday I'm sure you'll return the favor. That's how this underworld of ours works, isn't it? Favors and debts, paid and unpaid." Niels rose from his chair and stretched his back. "I'm headed to bed. You'll find Vivian upstairs. Left at the top of the stairs. Fourth door on the right. I'll have René send for your things in the morning."

Nikolai moved to stand, but Niels waved his hand. "Don't rush on my account. Enjoy your drink. Have another if you would like. If there's anything that you need, dial '1' on any phone in the house. It will connect you straight to René."

Nikolai leaned back in the chair and watched his host disappear. Bewildered by the strange turn of events, he finished his glass of brandy and dug through his backpack to find his personal cell phone. He switched it on for the first time in days and sent messages to Ivan and Yuri. Kostya's contacts had probably already informed him of his arrival, but he called him just to be sure. Their conversation was short and to the point.

After zipping his backpack, Nikolai wandered over to the bank of computer screens. He found the mouse and clicked through the series of photographs. Others who saw the glossy boudoir shots might be drawn to the subtle hint of flesh beneath the fur or the curves of Vivian's body, but her eyes enthralled him. They were so damned expressive.

But when he reached the series of photos where Vivian stood in front of a window, he slowed his clicks. These were different than the more sensual photos he had just viewed. Draped in the coat and silhouetted against the window, Vivian presented an alluring image. He could see his tattoo on the back of her neck. A row of diamonds glittered beneath it. Her dark hair looked impossibly black against the snowy whiteness of the fur. The tear sliding down her cheek revealed a heart wrenching vulnerability.

It wasn't difficult to comprehend the message of the photo. The pure white fur represented the sweet innocence of Vivian while the glimpse of flesh suggested a hidden eroticism and a coquettish quality. But the tear dripping down her skin and the wounded, haunted expression spoke of pain and heartache.

The image hit him right in gut.
Me. I did that. I'm the one who hurt her.

The earlier flare of jealousy that had burned through him upon finding Niels with these photographs morphed into a low, thrumming ache of desire. He realized there was no reason to be jealous of anyone who saw these. They could only see a moment Niels had captured, but he could touch and caress and kiss and love her.

If she still wants me…

Needing that answer, Nikolai followed Niels' direction to the guest suite. He entered quietly. He wasn't surprised that the bathroom light had been left on and the door remained slightly ajar. Not long after they had married, he had come home one evening to find a night light in one corner of their bedroom. After what she had survived as a child, her need for light to sleep well made sense.

He leaned against the closed door for a long time and simply watched her sleep. She had taken the right side of the bed, the same side that she slept on at home, the side farthest from the door. She had wrapped her arms around a pillow.
A makeshift me
.