Russian Mafia Boss's Heir (8 page)

***

MIKHAIL WALKED INTO the house and went directly to the kitchen. Mrs. O’Connell had left a plate of his favorite sticky buns on the counter. He picked up one and bit into the wonderfully soft bread. Closing his eyes, he chewed blissfully and wondered where the hell everyone was.

“There you are,” Mrs. O’Connell said, stepping into the room. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to come home at all today.”

“Where’s Tori?” Mikhail inquired absently. “Upstairs?”

“No. Tori asked me to tell you that she went out.”

“Out?” Mikhail put the bun back on the plate. “What do you mean she went out?”

“I would assume that the young lady got a little tired of waiting around the house for you to pay her any attention,” Mrs. O’Connell said primly. “You know, I told her when she first came here that you were a wonderful man with a good heart.”

“You did?” He was a little dumbfounded and perhaps a bit miffed that the woman would say such ridiculous things about him to his wife. She made him sound soft. He wasn’t soft. “Am I to understand that you have somehow revised this opinion?”

“Revised it?” Mrs. O’Connell’s voice grew shrill. She was actually wagging a finger at him. “You’ve ignored that poor woman since the day you married her! If there’s a reason for it, that’s fine. But you should at least tell her! It’s killing me to watch her walk around here looking so forlorn and rejected.”

“So you encouraged her to go out?”

“No sir, I did not. She came to me and said she was lonely and wanted to visit with her friends. Since neither one of us had any reason to expect you home within the week, she didn’t tell me when she would be back, and I didn’t ask.”

Mikhail was staring at the woman as though she’d grown a second head. When had she ever been so rebellious? Honestly, he couldn’t recall her ever being cross with him or even raising her voice. And the woman had been working for him for more than ten years now.

“I’m sorry for disappointing you,” Mikhail said stiffly. “It was not my intention. Unfortunately, Stanislas has been unusually demanding with my time lately.”

“Why would that man make demands of a newly wed man?” Mrs. O’Connell wondered out loud. “Especially since he knows the woman being stiffed on your time is his own daughter!”

“I couldn’t say.” Mikhail grimace. He did have his suspicions though. And most of them revolved around the Orlovs and Stanislas’s unfathomable obsession with killing Vasily. At some point, Stanislas was going to order Mikhail to do something that his conscience would not allow.

Chapter Ten

“I don’t think we should be here,” Mara whispered in Tori’s ear. “Look at all of the guards. Dimitri is going to kill me.”

“Oh hush.” Jamie frowned at their friend. “Sometimes you are an insufferable goody two shoes. You know that?”

“I am not!” Mara actually sounded outraged. Her high pitched voice even garnered some attention of the male variety as more than a few men turned to stare at them.

Tori couldn’t help but laugh. “Mara, you have to admit that Jamie is sort of right. I used to equate the two of you to the angel and devil sitting on my shoulder.” Tori nudged Jamie. “No guessing, I’m sure, as to who was the angel.”

“I really don’t appreciate that,” Mara grumbled.

Tori led the way through the Vasiliev casino. She’d only been there once before, and that was with Stanislas for some official party or meeting. So all of this was new to her too. She was just trying to pretend that it wasn’t.

“Shall we gamble?” Jamie asked, sounding eager. “I’ve always wanted to play roulette. It seems so exciting and sexy, you know?”

Mara cleared her throat. “Roulette is practically the only fair game in the house. The odds are always fifty percent for both the player and the house.”

“Then let’s play that one!” Jamie grabbed Tori’s arm and began dragging her toward the roulette tables.

It didn’t take a whole lot of persuasion.

At the nearest roulette table, the girls bought in at a hundred dollars a piece. Tori wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or insulted that nobody seemed to recognize her. Had she been utterly unnoticed in her stepfather’s home? Surely some of these men had been enforcers or guards that had been by the house once or twice. Or wouldn’t they just
know
because it was part of their job as Vasilievs?

Tori shoved that thought out of her head. She had married Mikhail in front of a church full of her father’s men. If that hadn’t brought her to their attention, nothing ever would. She focused instead on the spinning wheel and the little tiny ball as it bounced its way to red or black.

“I won!” Mara screamed excitedly. “I won, I won!”

Jamie and Tori were laughing, hanging onto each other and pointing at their straight laced friend who apparently could be completely won over by success at the roulette wheel. All of the stress and worry was forgotten, at least for the moment. Life was good.

 “Ms. Ivanov?”

It actually took Tori a moment to realize that
she
was Mrs. Ivanov. She turned and found herself staring into the face of a man perhaps ten years her senior. His face had what some people might call character. His nose had obviously been broken a few times, and his hair was long and a little ragged. But his blue eyes were sharp, and something of his face actually looked a bit familiar, though she could not imagine why.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“I am Antonin Orlov,” he said quietly. “You are my cousin.”

Crap. So his face was familiar because he looked like
her
. Or she looked like him, or something to that effect.

“Okay,” Tori said slowly. “What is it you want to talk to me about?”

“Your mother,” Antonin said tersely. “Or rather, I want to talk about what happened to her.”

“She died.” Tori said it simply, hoping the guy would just take the hint. She didn’t want to dig into her mother’s past. Did she?

***

MIKHAIL STRODE THROUGH the casino, looking for both Tori and any Orlov stragglers and praying to whatever deity might be listening that the two had not found each other. When he saw Antonin Orlov talking to Tori right next to the roulette table, Mikhail cursed his luck. It wasn’t going to matter what happened now. He would wind up pissing someone off.

“Dimitri!” Mikhail raised his hand, ushering his friend over. “Could you please escort Mara and Jamie out of the casino?”

“Mara,” Dimitri murmured. “What in the hell is Mara doing here?” He cursed in Russian. “She knows I would never allow such a thing!”

Mikhail raised his brows. “And why would you have any affect on what Mara would or would not do?”

Dimitri’s mouth snapped closed. Obviously he hadn’t been prepared to answer that question when he had reacted reflexively.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Mara and I have been seeing each other. It’s not serious.”

“That’s too bad,” Mikhail said mildly. “She’s a nice woman.”

“Stanislas would not allow it.”

Mikhail gave a disgusted grunt. “I’m beginning to realize that Stanislas has some very unusual ideas about more than one topic. The dating choices of his men is apparently something I need to add to the list.”

“Why are they here?”

“I have no idea, but I can almost certainly assume that Tori is somehow wishing to rub my nose in her activities.” Mikhail glowered at his wife.

“What are you going to do about her little chat with Antonin Orlov?” Dimitri pursed his lips. “The two look as though they have plenty to discuss.”

“I’m not quite certain yet.” Mikhail mulled this problem over in his head. “I do know that I need to hurry before Orlov tells her something that can’t be taken back.”

“You think Stanislas had her mother killed, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question. Dimitri was stating fact.

“I’m not sure what to think, and the old man won’t divulge anything. Antonin or his father might be the only ones who know the truth,” Mikhail said bitterly.

“If you can assume that they would tell the truth,” Dimitri pointed out.

“Exactly.”

“So how about we go break up the party and send everyone home?” Dimitri suggested.

Mikhail began walking. He was glad his friend was right behind him. “I was just going to suggest that.”

***

TORI KNEW SHE was in trouble when she spotted Mikhail moving toward the roulette table. What was he doing here anyway? The one day he wasn’t at work and he had to come here? Or maybe the casino
was
work. That was certainly a possibility.

“Hello, Antonin.” Mikhail’s voice was pleasant, but it sounded a bit forced.

Tori put her hands on her hips. “What are you doing here?”

“This casino is a Vasiliev enterprise.” Mikhail raised his eyebrows. “I should ask what
you
are doing here. This is no place for a lady.”

Antonin snorted. “You cannot keep your woman locked up in the kitchen barefoot and pregnant, Mikhail.” Antonin switched to Russian. “This is not the old country.”

“I’ll be home when I’m ready,” Tori told Mikhail. “I’m not done speaking with my cousin.”

She could see Mikhail grinding his teeth. No doubt he didn’t appreciate the reminder that she was related to the Orlovs. Well, he could go to hell for all she cared. It wasn’t as if her husband wanted to talk to her, or spend time with her. There was no reason why she couldn’t enjoy the company of someone who did.

“Mara,” Dimitri said quietly. “Please take Jamie and go home.”

Jamie might have protested, but Mara grabbed her arm and dragged her off anyway.

The imperious command made Tori so angry she could hardly contain herself.

She put her hands on her hips and stomped her foot so hard she nearly snapped off the heel of her shoe. “That was bullshit! Do you hear me, Dimitri? Bullshit!” She pointed right at him and poked the middle of his chest. “It’s not fair for you to pull that on my friend. She’s not even your real girlfriend because you don’t have the
balls
to tell my stepfather you’re dating her! How rude is
that,
I ask you?”

“Tori, please,” Mikhail said in a low, urgent voice. “Don’t cause a scene. You’re not helping matters by being difficult.”

“I’m being difficult?” She gave a bitter laugh. “You’re just like Stanislas. You know that? You should make the perfect successor because you have no mind of your own.”

A deadly sort of expression crossed Mikhail’s features.

Tori froze, realizing that she might have gotten a little carried away. She was essentially challenging her husband in public. She was pushing him into a corner where he had no choice but to save face.

His hand shot out, grabbing her by the throat. He didn’t choke her, but he scared the hell out of her. Tori clawed at his arm. She wanted him to let go, but he didn’t.

“Don’t. Move.” He was snarling his words between clenched teeth. “Dimitri is going to take you home. You will wait there for me to decide your punishment. Do you understand?”

She could feel every single pair of eyes within the casino staring at her.

Embarrassment and humiliation made her cheeks burn as Tori barely managed a nod. She couldn’t meet his eyes or anyone else’s. Nor did she want to. At this point, all she wanted was to go home.

***

MIKHAIL WATCHED TORI stumble toward the exit with Dimitri close behind her. Dimitri would make certain she made it safely home with no further incident.

Once they were out of sight, Mikhail turned back to Antonin Orlov.

“What did you want with my wife?” Mikhail demanded. “And don’t give me some bullshit story about renewing family ties. You and your men have been frequenting this place for the last two weeks. Why? Have you been hoping to run into Tori? Is that your game?”

Antonin gave Mikhail an insolent once over, his gaze raking Mikhail from top to bottom before he bothered to answer. “That is a lot of questions you have.”

“I want answers.” Mikhail was reminded that in truth, Antonin Orlov was the same rank within his own
mafiya
family as Mikhail was within the Vasiliev organization. This did not bode well for Mikhail.

“You should take care how you treat my cousin,” Antonin murmured. “She is a strong willed woman, much like her mother.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Mikhail tried again. He needed answers,
something
to present to Stanislas before the man lost his mind to paranoid delusions about what the Orlovs were planning. If Mikhail could get something concrete, it might stop the open speculation.

“The old man,” Antonin began in Russian. “Is he getting more and more paranoid?”

Mikhail didn’t answer. It would have been the height of stupidity to reveal something like that.

“It does not surprise me.” The other man shrugged. “He was always ever paranoid about those who might be destined to take his place.”

“What?” Mikhail frowned. What was Orlov
talking
about? It made no sense. “Every boss in the Bratva must declare a successor.”

“And yet inexplicably, so many of those same successors seem to meet with an early death. Or perhaps the boss dies as soon as he announces the line of succession.” Antonin shrugged, lifting a glass of whiskey to his lips. “It is all one big wait for death. Don’t you think?”

“I think you’re talking in circles,” Mikhail growled. “Get out of my casino and don’t come back.”

“Now that’s not hospitable at all.” Antonin made a clucking noise with his tongue. “And to think you’re less than four weeks into your tour of duty as the heir of the Vasiliev.” Now Antonin was openly mocking Mikhail. “Imagine how the anxiety will eat at you for the next twenty years while you wait for that old man to wither and die. Assuming you last.” He patted Mikhail on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m going.”

Mikhail was left to stare after the other man, wondering what he could be referring to. Stanislas had never declared an heir before. At least, not as far as Mikhail knew, and he had been part of the Vasiliev syndicate for more than ten years. What secrets had Stanislas been keeping, and how could Mikhail find out without making the old man even more paranoid?