Russian Mobster’s Blackmailed Bride (12 page)

“Thank you, Pyotr.” Anatoly slid out of the car and helped Trisha out behind him. Then Anatoly gave the uniformed man a smile. “Pyotr is one of my most diligent managers. We could not run this resort without him.”

Pyotr puffed up with pride. It was strange, but she had never considered Anatoly to be a particularly attentive boss. Now she had to revise her opinion of him yet again.

Anatoly led her up a short flight of steps and into the dining room. He pointed out some of the antique features he thought might interest her with her history background. They chatted about the furnishings and the beautiful crystal chandeliers that dated back to the days of the Tsars. And then just when Trisha thought the evening was turning out to be quite perfect, something quite awful happened.

“Anatoly!” A woman’s voice shattered the peaceful atmosphere of the dining room. “Anatoly Zaretsky, you devil! I have been looking for you everywhere! They told me you were here, but nobody seemed to know where you were.”

Trisha felt Anatoly freeze beside her. Then to her shock, the woman she and Minka had once seen in the bathroom of the casino breezed up and kissed Anatoly on both cheeks. Then she glared derisively at Trisha and arranged her lips into a pout.

“Where on earth did you find this one?” she gestured to Trisha. “The girl can’t even choose her own clothes, Anatoly. Really. Can’t you show a little discretion?”

Chapter Fifteen

Anatoly was almost dead certain the Apocalypse was happening at that very moment. He never could have anticipated the horror of having Bianka Sokolov there at his resort while he was supposed to be enjoying a romantic getaway with Trisha.

“Anatoly?” Bianka raised her eyebrows. “I’m speaking to you.”

Beside him, Anatoly could practically feel Trisha’s rising irritation. Bianka was dressed in a cocktail dress that was more bare than there. The fabric was some sort of smoky black with sparkles. The plunging neckline showed off a generous amount of cleavage and belly. In fact, he could actually see the real emerald she had placed in her belly button piercing. More emeralds hung from her ears, and her blonde hair was piled on top of her head and held in place by diamond and emerald combs. She was sporting five inch stiletto heels and a smile that looked like she’d been chewing glass.

“Bianka,” Anatoly dipped his head. “I hope you enjoy your stay, but I have plans for the evening already.”

He linked Trisha’s arm through his and started to walk off. Of course, he already knew he was delusional if he thought that was going to derail Bianka from her intended goal. She grabbed his arm and dug her nails in until he thought she might have actually drawn blood.

“Excuse me?” Bianka snapped. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I told you,” he said calmly. “I already have plans.”

“You’re too busy for your fiancée?” She sent a pointed glare toward the hand Trisha had resting on his arm. “You
did
tell her that you’re engaged, right?”

“Gee, in America the woman has to be asked before the engagement is official,” Trisha drawled.

Anatoly turned his head so quickly that his spine cracked. Trisha was actually smiling at him. He’d expected her to be furious. Apparently she was choosing to reserve judgment on this Bianka mess? If that was the case, he couldn’t let her down. He placed his other hand over Trisha’s and swept her off toward their table in the prime section of the restaurant. Behind him, he could hear Bianka’s snarl of outrage.

“Wow,” Trisha murmured. “She’s a real peach. Where did you find that one?”

“Would you believe it was an arranged marriage?” he ventured.

She took the seat he pulled out for her at their table. Settling her skirt around her thighs, she seemed to be giving this much consideration. “So who arranged it? Your parents? Or a bunch of guys who want to create a power monopoly in the city?”

“A little bit of both, I think,” he admitted, taking his own seat. A hostess handed them both menus before retreating.

Anatoly lifted his hand to signal the waitress. She bustled over, and he ordered wine, salads, appetizers, and the main course all in one go. When the waitress left to get their wine, he reached across the table and picked up Trisha’s hand. He let his lips brush her knuckles.

“You’re being incredibly calm about this.”

TRISHA WONDERED IF he could see her other hand fisted beneath the table. “I’m glad you think so,” she told him amicably. “Because I feel like I’ve been blindsided, and I don’t really like it.”

“Can you explain this ‘blindsided?’” he asked. “Is that an American term?”

“It just means that I’ve been hit from a direction I didn’t expect.” She sighed.

The waitress set a glass of wine in front of her.

She fiddled with the glass stem, trying to find just the right words. “I know that I eavesdropped earlier and I heard Yakov mention this Bianka person. I even knew you were supposed to marry her.”

“But?”

“In the casino that first night, my friend Minka and I saw her in the ladies’ restroom. She was such a bitch! Seriously. I cannot imagine a world where I would want to live in the same building with her, let alone the same house.”

“I wouldn’t.” He took a sip of his wine, trying to buy some time. “Honestly, I can barely stomach the idea of standing next to her. I cannot imagine living with her.”

“Then why marry her? Remember when I was talking about active decisions? And how it’s hard because we don’t know what’s coming? This is one of those times when you have to make an active choice, because the passive option is going to get your balls whacked off in a vise.”

“That’s graphic,” he said witheringly.

“So is she. Is it really so important to—” She used air quotes because it was ridiculous. “—join forces with the Sokolovs? Does that connection matter enough to throw away your happiness?”

He cocked his head to one side. “Are you suggesting that you have a vested interest in my happiness?”

Trisha grabbed her wineglass and took a huge drink. She wasn’t ready to go there just yet. “Look, eight weeks ago I’d never been away from home for more than a few days at a time. Now I’m vacationing in Siberia with a mafia kingpin and he’s teasing me about my long term romantic plans? That’s a lot to take in, don’t you think?”

He pursed his lips. “It is. And yet you’re sitting here lecturing me on happiness while you’re not willing to say what it is you want for your own.”

“Dammit,” she muttered. “There’s a lot of logic in that line of reasoning.”

ANATOLY COULD NOT help but smile at Trisha’s sulky expression. “I’m not trying to minimize everything that you have been doing for yourself lately.”

“Wow,” she commented. “That was a shockingly human comment you just made.”

The waitress brought their salads, another server following behind with the appetizer tray. Once the table was settled and heaped with good food and more wine, Anatoly allowed himself to contemplate a response to her observation.

“You affect me, Trisha Copeland,” he told her quietly. “You are different. It makes me want to
be
different. I want to look at the world as more than just a means of making more money or getting what I want.”

“Then I suggest you start with not selling yourself on the auction block like some stud horse.” She pointed her fork at him. “Because that’s a permanent condition that could get ugly.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to explain about the Sokolovs and how much trouble they could make for the Zaretsky organization, but he didn’t want to lose her good opinion. Then he caught a glimpse of something awful from the corner of his eye.

Bianka Sokolov dragged a chair up to the side of the table and plopped down as though she had been invited. She glared at both Anatoly and Trisha in turn before snatching Trisha’s fork from beside her plate and digging into one of the appetizers. The rudeness of the gesture wasn’t just unbelievable, it was completely out of character for even Bianka.

“What are you doing?” Anatoly asked her in a flat tone of voice. “You weren’t invited, you should make yourself scarce.”

Bianka acted as though she had not heard him. “I needed to talk to you about the marriage offer you made to me the other day.”

Anatoly had forgotten that unfortunate detail, mostly because he had made the offer in jest. Now apparently it was a standing offer on the table. Great. Trisha was already looking at him with more than just confusion in her eyes.

“Bianka,” Anatoly said in a clear voice. “I was being facetious when I made that offer.”

“No, you were serious,” Bianka insisted. She took another bite off the appetizer plate. “Even Papa thought so.”

“Okay, but you know there is absolutely no way you would agree to those terms,” Anatoly reminded her. “Which is why I felt comfortable making you a sarcastic offer. I did not
want
you to accept.”

“Too bad.” She gave him a smug smile. “I accept! In fact, I
eagerly
accept.”

“You’re going to marry me, living on an allowance that is less than one fourth of your current clothing budget, and let me pay your household expenses so you don’t get to have any control over those expenditures either?” Anatoly didn’t believe it for one second.

“Of course,” Bianka agreed. “I just have one little question.”

“What’s that?” He expected her to ask for money or property, or the world’s largest diamond, something to do with finances.

“Are you going to set this—” She gestured impudently at Trisha. “—whore up in a house just as extravagant as mine? I have to tell you that I expect a better house and more money since I’ll be your wife. Other than that, I don’t care what you do.”

He would never forget the expression on Trisha’s face if he lived to be a hundred years old.

TRISHA HAD NEVER been so insulted and horrified all at once. Here she had been trying to convince Anatoly that he should hold out for marital happiness, or at least a wife he didn’t hate. But apparently that really didn’t matter around here. It was culturally acceptable for a man in Anatoly’s position to have his cake and eat it too.

Trisha was suddenly and completely done dealing with this crap. She primly set her napkin aside and stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to have Yakov take me back to the cabin.”

“Wait.” Bianka whipped around to stare at Trisha before turning back toward Anatoly and glaring with such ferocity that Trisha could feel the reflective heat. “Are you telling me that this prostitute is staying in the
cabin
with you?”

Trisha was going to lose her damn mind if she hung around for one more second. She put her hands on her hips and blew out a long breath. “I’m going to go now, Anatoly. Because if I stay here for one more second, I’m going to grab this bitch by her nappy ass hair and grind her face into the carpet.”

It made her feel both better and worse when Anatoly only chuckled. Then he gestured to Bianka. “If I were you I might think about being more respectful. Of all the people I know, Trisha is the one most capable of doing exactly what she’s just threatened. And Bianka, I wouldn’t lift a finger to stop her.”

“Bye.” Trisha didn’t wait to hear the rest. As much as Anatoly’s words felt like a compliment, she also felt like he was using Trisha to put Bianka in her place, and that wasn’t fair to either of them.

It was a short walk to the front of the restaurant, and Trisha felt much better when she inhaled a few deep lungfuls of fresh air. To her surprise, Yakov was waiting at the bottom of the steps with the car.

“How did you know?” she asked, approaching the tall, broad shouldered Russian.

His eyes were gleaming. “I saw Bianka enter the restaurant looking like a woman on a mission. Shall I take you back to the cabin?”

“Yes please.”

Trisha got into the car and was glad for the peace and quiet. She was very aware of Yakov’s gaze in the rearview mirror, though. It made her think of the conversation she’d overheard earlier. Perhaps of all the people involved, he would be the one most likely to tell her the truth.

“Yakov?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you say that Anatoly really needs to marry that horrible woman?”

Yakov pursed his lips and waited so long to answer that Trisha thought he was going to refuse. Finally he spoke. “In Moscow, Anatoly Zaretsky is the king of mafia business. He is brilliant. He is rich. People bend over backwards to do him favors. They love him.”

“But?”

“The Sokolovs are the kings of the underworld. They run more drugs and commit more dirty crimes than Anatoly could ever imagine necessary.”

“So why combine forces with people who are just a bunch of bloodthirsty criminals?”

“So that they don’t decide to murder Anatoly just to take what he has,” Yakov said grimly.

Trisha swallowed. Her mouth felt as if it were lined in cotton. “I suppose that might be a good reason.”

Chapter Sixteen

Anatoly sat back in his seat and gazed at the woman who had somehow managed to become his nemesis. All the power and money at his disposal, and he could not manage to make her go away. Perhaps he needed a new strategy.

Right now, Bianka’s lips were twisted into a smug smile. She thought she had won. “I’m so sorry that your little date quit the field.”

“I can assure you, she didn’t quit.” This was not the time to lose his temper. He needed to remember that.

There was a flicker of something that might have been called unease on Bianka’s face. Then she smoothed her expression and looked around them. The restaurant was busy with guests coming to sample the hearty fare on offer.

“You’ve never brought me here before,” she mused.

He didn’t remind her that he hadn’t actually brought her here now either.

The waitress brought the main course, setting it on the table and looking somewhat confused. She looked to Anatoly. “Shall I bring another place setting?”

“No need,” Bianka said imperiously. She began to help herself to Trisha’s food.

The steaming portions of Chicken Kiev were making Anatoly’s mouth water, but he did not give in. He did not intend to allow Bianka to win this round.