Russian Mafia Boss's Heir (11 page)

“Ooo, or where he asks what your name is and you ask what he wants it to be!” Jamie was rolling on her back, cackling with mirth.

“You watch way too much television.” Tori opened her mouth to say something else, but the words never came out. Someone was knocking on Jamie’s front door. Tori stared at her friend, feeling a shot of adrenaline in her bloodstream. “Were you expecting someone? It’s three in the morning!”

“No.” Jamie got up and walked to the door. She put her eye to the peephole and then swung back around to face Tori. “It’s some guy. Looks like one of your mobsters. I think it’s that guy you were talking to the other night at the casino, you know?”

Tori got up out of the beanbag and walked to the door. “Who is it?” she called out in a firm but quiet voice.

“It’s Antonin Orlov. Open the door, little cousin, please?”

Tori recognized the voice, but there was no way she was opening the door. “It’s three in the morning, Antonin. Come back in the morning.”

She could hear his sigh through the door. “I have to tell you something.”

“So tell me.”

“It’s sort of private to be shouting through a door.” He didn’t sound annoyed, but Tori wasn’t taking chances.

“Meet me somewhere tomorrow then,” Tori suggested. “You can tell me then.”

“Fine.” He paused, ostensibly to figure out someplace to meet. “You know that restaurant called Little Kiev?”

“Yeah. It’s Orlov run.” Tori also knew that there were very few civilians who ate at that place. It was very carefully guarded.

“Be there at ten o’clock in the morning.”

“Ten?” Tori groused. “That’s awfully early.”

“Fine.” Antonin was muttering in Russian. “Noon then.”

“Better. See you then.” Tori turned to Jamie, waiting until she heard Antonin’s boots at the other end of the hallway. “Guess I’d better get some sleep.”

“I don’t think you should go,” Jamie whispered. “What if it’s some kind of trap?”

“What trap? He
is
my cousin. What good would it do for him to trap me somewhere? What would he have to gain?” She bit her lip, thinking that she hadn’t seen her stepbrother in awhile and maybe it was getting to a point where she should find him and have a little chat about whatever the hell was going on.

“What?” Jamie pointed at her. “You’re doing that thing where you come up with all sorts of reckless things you’re going to do, but you don’t really have great reasons for putting yourself in danger.”

Tori pinched her friend in the arm.

“Ow!”

“There, apparently you’re not dreaming, so stop saying crazy things that make no sense.”

“That was mean, Tor.” Jamie rubbed her arm.

“Don’t you have to work in the morning?” Tori asked suddenly. “I just realized that you’re up all night and you actually have a job.”

“Yeah, but I work remote. Sometimes if I’m really sleepy I just nap on the couch and sort of half listen to conference calls or wait for the phone to wake me up if someone calls and actually needs something.”

“You’re lucky,” Tori grunted. “That sounds like the best job ever.”

“Says the woman whose only job is to get laid,” Jamie teased.

Tori knew her friend was just having fun and trying to lighten the mood, but the words stung a little. It
was
her job to have sex with her husband. It wasn’t as if she didn’t enjoy the work, but she wanted a little more in life. She wasn’t some empty headed bit of fluff that couldn’t handle the tough stuff. And she was starting to think there were a lot of things that Mikhail was keeping from her. The kind of things that could bite
her
in the ass just as badly as they could him. That meant that he was trying to keep her ignorant of what was happening in her own life. Tori didn’t want that at all. No matter how good the sex was.

“Come on,” Jamie said, tugging her arm. “You can have the couch. I’ll get some blankets and a pillow.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey, what else are friends for?” Jamie teased. “And it’s not like I have a whole lot to do at three in the morning.”

“You could work,” Tori suggested. “Since you seem to be opposed to working during daylight hours.”

“Oh ha, ha.” Jamie looked disgruntled. “You’re hilarious. Someday you’re going to have a job, and I’m going to laugh my ass off when you have to get up and actually go somewhere in the mornings.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Tori murmured. “Sometimes normal is the most attractive thing out there.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Excuse me, Mr. Ivanov?” A female voice drifted through Mikhail’s consciousness. “Oh please wake up, sir. Mikhail!”

Mikhail sat up, feeling disoriented and confused as hell. He hadn’t gotten home until nearly four in the morning after his jaunt over to Cambridge to see Alexei Vasiliev. He’d been exhausted, and he hadn’t wanted to wake Tori. So he had crashed on the couch in his study. Now his bleary eyes sought the clock and saw that it was only eleven in the morning and for some reason Mrs. O’Connell was in his study trying to wake him up.

“What?” he grumbled. “I’m dead on my feet here.”

“I see that, sir.” She was wringing her hands. “But I’m concerned, and I didn’t know who else to go to.”

“Concerned?”

“Tori is gone.”

“What do you mean by gone?” Mikhail’s sluggish brain kicked into action. “She’s not here?”

“No. I just checked.”

“You hadn’t checked before now?” he asked, astounded.

“Well, sir, I didn’t realize you were in here.” Mrs. O’Connell actually blushed. “I don’t generally make it a habit to interrupt the two of you newlyweds, you know. But then I noticed you were sleeping in here. So I went to wake her, but the bed is empty.”

“Maybe she had a breakfast appointment.” Mikhail was really grasping. Truthfully, if she had made any appointments without letting him know where she was going and with whom, he would still be pissed.

“No, I don’t think so.” Mrs. O’Connell looked pale with worry. “She and I were supposed to meet to discuss this week’s menu at eleven o’clock, and she’s never late for that.”

“Menu?” Mikhail raised both brows. “You guys actually meet to talk about that?”

Now Mrs. O’Connell looked disgruntled. “It isn’t as if the poor thing has anything else to keep her occupied. She’s bored. The menu and housekeeping lists help her feel just a little less useless.”

“Useless.” He had never actually thought about what Tori did during her days. He had supposed, or perhaps he’d just assumed, that she kept herself busy. Now that Mrs. O’Connell pointed out the obvious, he realized there wasn’t really a whole lot for Tori to do since they didn’t have any children to look after.

“It isn’t easy for the poor dear, you know?” Mrs. O’Connell sighed. It was obvious that she was very loyal to Tori. “She had quite an active social life before she married you.”

“Duly noted.” Mikhail rubbed his face with his hands. “And you have no idea where she might have gone?”

“Well, I’ve texted her friends, but I’m not getting any response.” The older woman seemed to reconsider. “Although that Jamie is quite the night owl. She might not even be awake yet.”

Mikhail stood up. “All right. I’m up. My men and I will find her. Thank you for letting me know that she went out.”

“You’re welcome.” Mrs. O’Connell looked as if she might want to say more, but she turned and left the study without another word.

***

TORI WAS RATHER surprised at how crowded the restaurant was at a quarter to noon in the morning. In her exhausted estimation, it was still practically the middle of the night. It was on her tongue to ask some of the patrons walking in the door what would bring them out at such a god awful time of the morning. Then Tori recalled that she herself had missed an eleven o’clock meeting with her housekeeper, and that she was probably just tired and grouchy.

With a sigh, she straightened the skirt of her borrowed dress and marched through the front doors of the restaurant. The hostess eyed her with curiosity, but the woman didn’t get a chance to be rude or otherwise because Antonin was already practically sprinting toward her from the back of the restaurant.

“Welcome, cousin!” he called. “Come. I have a table for us in an area where we can have privacy. Are you hungry?”

Tori considered the notion. She was hungry, but for now she didn’t feel like eating would be such a good idea. “How about coffee? Just black. No Russian coffee this early in the morning,” she told him with a smile.

Antonin’s grin was enormous. “Ah! Black coffee it is.” He looked around for a waiter. “Viktor! Bring us a pot of coffee and a plate of those pastries I like.”

“Yes, sir.” Viktor actually bowed at the waist before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Wow.” Tori watched the exchange with interest. “That’s a lot of deference you get, huh?”

Antonin led her to a small room off the main dining area. There was a single table set for two. An oil lamp flickered in the center of the table. The curtains were all still partially closed, giving the area a cozy, almost intimate feeling. It was certainly the perfect place for a clandestine conversation.

“So?” Tori settled herself in the comfy little padded chair. “What was so important that you were banging on my friend’s door in the middle of the night?” Something occurred to Tori, and she frowned. “And while you’re at it, why don’t you explain how you knew I was there. Are you following me?”

“It is the truth that we have been searching for ways to speak with you when Mikhail is not present,” Antonin admitted. “That was why I approached you at the casino.”

“Yes, but you were just congratulating me on my marriage and shooting the breeze,” Tori reminded him. “Small talk.”

“Perhaps it seemed like that,” Antonin agreed. The waiter came just then and brought coffee. The young man disappeared after that, and Antonin poured the rich black liquid into their cups. “I was trying to find out if you were content. We could not be sure if the marriage was voluntary.”

“It wasn’t,” Tori said quickly. “I thought everyone knew that. It was arranged.”

“It does not always follow that it must be unwelcomed, however,” Antonin pointed out. He stirred a lump of sugar into his coffee and then waved his little spoon in the air. “If you are happy, then it does not matter. If you are
not
happy, I feel there are some things you should know.”

***

 “UGH! WHAT DO you
want
?” Jamie moaned, opening the door and then walking back to the couch.

Mikhail watched his wife’s friend curl up with a pillow and then essentially go back to sleep. He strode inside, Dimitri on his heels. Dimitri closed the door behind them, and both men were left staring at a woman who was obviously in no mood to speak with them.

“Jamie,” Mikhail said firmly. “Where is Tori?”

Jamie yawned hugely. “Let me guess. Dimitri there couldn’t get any info out of his lapdog Mara—which, by the way, her friends are
so
not happy about the way you use her for info—so the two of you came here. Am I right?”

“Essentially.” Mikhail didn’t have time to debate semantics or nitpick details. “So where is she?”

“She’s not here.” Jamie was already drifting off to sleep. “So why don’t you just close the door on your way out.”

“I know she’s not here. Where is she?” Mikhail demanded. He was really getting irritated with this obvious stonewalling.

Mikhail’s tone seemed to rouse Jamie just a bit. Her eyelids snapped open, and she glared at him. “You know, it’s really rude to treat her like your personal call girl.”

“What?” Mikhail’s brain stalled. He had no idea what Jamie was talking about. “What are you babbling about now?”

“You never talk to her. You just fuck her.” Jamie pointed at him, her eyes closed but her attention obviously focused on what she saw as the disrespect of her friend. “You make her feel like a whore.”

Mikhail blinked. It felt as though he’d just had a cold bucket of water thrown in his face. Could that be true? His purpose had been to protect his wife, but was it possible that he was making her feel as though she wasn’t important? He’d never known any men who shared their petty concerns with their wives. At least they didn’t
say
that they did. Perhaps that was one of those marital mysteries that men never really spoke of. At least not honestly.

“Go away,” Jamie muttered. “She’ll go home when she’s ready.”

“I want to know where she is,” Mikhail snapped. “You will tell me.”

“Go to hell.” Jamie crossed her arms and appeared to zone out even more. “I promise you, go home, and she’ll be there in a few hours. That was her plan. She’ll stick to it. Until then, if you’re so eager to show her that you don’t think of her as your personal whore, you might stop treating her like one.”

***

TORI STARED AT her cousin and tried to guess what the man could be thinking. There had to be an angle. There was
always
an angle. Cousin or not, Antonin Orlov was in the mafia. He had a reason for dangling that bait in front of her, and it had nothing to do with her welfare.

“I find it interesting,” she began, taking a sip of her coffee and savoring the intense flavor mixed with an almost tangy bitterness. “That you would give me some line about this information only making a difference if I am not happy. Why is that? Are you worried that if I’m happy it means I’ve bought into the Vasiliev way of thinking and would no longer have Orlov interests?”

Antonin threw back his head and laughed. “You are so much your mother’s daughter. Do you know that?”

“I barely remember her,” Tori said softly. “I have very few impressions of her. I recall the way she smelled, like roses, and I remember what it was like to feel her arms around me. I know that she loved me. I can feel that still. But no, if I’ve managed to turn out like she did, I had no idea.”

“My aunt was a brilliant woman with a tactical mind and a way of cutting straight to the important point of any matter,” Antonin explained. “When she decided that it would be in the Orlovs’s best interest for her to marry Stanislas Vasiliev, she announced it at a meeting one day, and by the end of the week it was done.”