Russian Mobster’s Blackmailed Bride (4 page)

The friction was to die for. The fabric of her satin bra, of her dress, and his shirt against her sensitized breasts made her almost mad with desire. She felt his hands slide down to cup her ass. He gave her a little squeeze, and she moaned once again. Her body was responding to him in ways she had never experienced with anyone else. Her list of lovers wasn’t long, but she’d never been with anyone like Anatoly Zaretsky.

The thought was like a cold bucket of water thrown in her face. What was she
doing
?

Wrenching away from Anatoly, she took a step back and tried to find her perspective. Or maybe she was looking for her good sense, because that seemed to have completely gone by the wayside.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was so soft, coaxing almost.

She slammed the door on her desire and forced herself to take a mental step back. “This is wrong.”

“How so?”

He looked so damn handsome. His lips were full, his hair mussed from her fingers, and his eyes bright with lust. She could
see
the passion in him. Maybe that was the problem? She’d never seen anything like it with any other man. How could someone so cold and calculating also be so in touch with—well, with
this
? The desire was rolling off him in waves. She felt wanted for the first time in forever.

“I’m going back to my room,” she muttered.

Turning on her heel, she marched to the sliding glass door and flung it open. Inside. Down the hall. The beefcakes were still standing in front of her doorway. She didn’t suppress the urge to flip them off this time. She gave each guy the finger, completely nonplussed when the only response she got was to see the corner of each of their mouths turn up with amusement.

Into her room she went, and she slammed the door closed on the whole night. She would go to bed, and in the morning she would remember that Anatoly Zaretsky was her enemy. No matter what her body seemed inclined to think.

ANATOLY FELT DISAPPOINTMENT mingle with satisfaction until he was smiling to himself out on the terrace. He had gotten beneath her skin, all right. In fact, he knew more about Trisha than she seemed to know about herself. The woman was passion incarnate. The first time he had seen her in the casino that night, he had known she would be a temptress in bed for the man who was willing to take his time getting her there. That just left him with the necessity of playing the game until he convinced her to give in to what she really wanted anyway.

“Sir?” Yakov’s voice drew Anatoly from his reverie.

Turning, he raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“The chief of police is here to see you as you requested.”

“Thank you. Show him out.”

“Out here?” Yakov raised a brow.

This was the second time the man had seemed to question a slight deviation from the normal routine. Was Anatoly really that predictable? If so, he was going to have to work on that a bit.

“Yes,” Anatoly said with thinly veiled exasperation. “That’s what I said, correct?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Yakov dipped his head in respect and disappeared.

Moments later, the chief of police arrived on the balcony. Yakov slid the doors shut, and Anatoly turned to face the man who had become nothing but a lackey in the four years he had held his office.

“I have a request,” Anatoly said slowly. “I have a woman here whom I found in my casino.”

“Yes.” Chief Polzin gave a curt nod. “I have already received phone calls from her parents.”

Anatoly felt his eyebrows begin to rise in shock and quickly schooled his face to blandness. “And your response?”

“I reminded them that as a visitor to our country, she is subject to all the laws herein.” Polzin looked mildly uncomfortable. “Her father is a very determined man, Mr. Zaretsky. I would imagine he could prove quite stubborn if you choose to hold the woman much longer.”

“I will hold her as long as I want,” Anatoly said firmly. “Or as long as she holds my attention, I suppose.”

Polzin nodded. “As you wish.”

“You will tell her father and her embassy that she is being held by the mafia until she can make restitution for her crimes.” There. That sounded reasonable, didn’t it? Although truthfully Anatoly cared little for whether he was being reasonable. He had decided that he wanted Trisha Copeland. He did not care what barriers there were between him and his desires. He would get what he wanted in much the same way he always did.

“That will be all,” Anatoly said, dismissing Polzin with a wave of his hand.

“If I might caution you.”

Anatoly whipped around, shocked by the chief’s boldness. “Caution
me
?”

“Yes, sir.” Polzin fidgeted. “These Americans can prove to be quite a nuisance. I only suggest caution, sir.”

“You can suggest it, Polzin.” Anatoly’s tone was frigid. “But I will do as I see fit.”

“Of course.”

Polzin left, and Anatoly was alone with his thoughts. Her father was an ocean away. How much trouble could the man really cause?

Chapter Five

Trisha pressed her back against the carved headboard and pulled her knees up to her chest. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she rested her chin on her knees and sighed. Only a sliver of light peeked through the thick curtains to alleviate the darkness in her room. It felt oppressive, which was appropriate.

She was disgusted with herself. In fact, she felt ashamed of her behavior. Why had she fallen so thoroughly under Anatoly’s spell? That wasn’t like her. She needed to get out of here and get home.

Exhaling slowly, Trisha crawled off the bed. She stood up and straightened her spine. Cowering here in this gilded prison was no longer an option. She was done being timid. It was time to take her destiny in hand and make a choice.

Wishing for some real clothing, Trisha pressed her back to the wall beside the doorway. She held her breath. There was no noise on the other side of the door, but she couldn’t be certain there was no guard posted. She gathered her courage and turned the knob. There was a moment of complete shock when it actually turned. It made no sense for him to shut her inside and then make no effort to keep her there. Maybe he’d grown lax, or thought she didn’t have the courage to escape.

The hallway was deserted. Moonlight spilled through the windows and bathed the wood floor in pale blue light. She looked for the beefcakes, but the apartment appeared to be deserted. There was no hint of movement and not a sound to be heard. She walked carefully, carrying her heels and placing her bare feet flat on the floor.

She followed a half remembered route in her mind. She hadn’t paid enough attention when she had entered the apartment with her friends as this had all began. It felt like a million years ago, but in reality it had only been earlier that very afternoon.

The front door loomed ahead. Trisha quickened her pace, feeling eager. Yet when she placed her hand on the ornate door pull, she drew back. Her gut was roiling with anxiety, and her heart was pounding so fast that it was barely a flutter behind her breastbone. This was entirely too easy. There had to be a catch.

She sucked in a deep, steadying breath and forced herself to grab the door even though her hand was shaking.

But in that moment she was forced to confront a very important question: What was it that she was running back to?

IN THE DARKNESS of the foyer that sat between the front door of his penthouse and the elevator, Anatoly waited for Trisha to exit the apartment. He had no doubt that she would appear at any moment. He had left the opportunity wide open just to see what would happen. Yet as time wore on and the hour grew first later, and then earlier, he began to believe that she had somehow managed to scale the outside of the building and escape that way.

Panic overtook him. Anatoly leaped up from his chair. In his haste, he toppled an antique table that sat in the center of the space. The table tilted at a crazy angle, the vase on top sliding over the edge. Anatoly reached out to snatch it up and missed.

The sound of porcelain shattering against marble was deafening in the small foyer space. The noise echoed off the ceiling and ricocheted from the walls like gunfire. The motion sensors flickered in the darkness. Seconds later, the alarm went off. Boots thundered down the hallway on the other side of his front door.

Anatoly barely had time to catch his breath before the front door slammed open. Yakov appeared, his gun pointing straight at Anatoly’s face.

“Sir?” Yakov lowered his weapon, motioning for Sergei to do the same. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Anatoly was more annoyed with himself than his men. He was acting ridiculous. Yet he had truly expected Trisha to attempt an escape this night. He had left her completely unguarded behind an unlocked door just for that reason. He had
wanted
her to see how futile escape was even when it appeared possible.

Now Anatoly was left to wonder if she’d managed to double cross him.

He remembered the initial errand that had ended in the broken vase. Pointing to the mess, he spoke to Yakov. “Call someone to clean this up please?”

“Of course, sir.” Yakov frowned. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

But Anatoly didn’t answer. He was already on his way down the hallway toward Trisha’s room. He flung open her door without even knocking and flipped the wall switch.

She sat straight up in the bed, blinking owlishly at the overhead light flooding the room.

“What are you doing?” She actually yawned.

He blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re holding me prisoner, remember?” She looked confused. “Are you drunk?”

Anatoly shook off his anxiety and tried to remember that he was supposed to be calm and in control of his emotions. He examined his nails, trying to affect a bored attitude. “I expected you to attempt to run.”

“Where would I go?”

He had no ready answer for that one. Anything he said had the potential to aid in her fabricating an escape plan. 

So he didn’t answer, posing another question instead. “Why would you not attempt to go home tomorrow?”

“Perhaps I’ve changed my mind,” she said stiffly. “I’m female. It happens.”

Shock made him lightheaded. “Changed your
mind
? About going back to the States?”

“Not that.” She waved her hand almost airily. “I’ve just changed my mind about going home.”

TRISHA DID NOT want to say any more. She would have been giving too much away. Instead, she tried not to focus on the delectable way he looked with his tousled hair, dress shirt hanging half open with the buttons undone, and his slacks with bare feet. The man was absolutely edible. But it was also obvious that he wasn’t going to just walk away and respect her privacy after she’d dropped such an abrupt bomb on his head.

“You don’t want to go home?” he asked incredulously. “What happened to your assertion that your father was a stubborn man who would never give up looking for you?”

“I wasn’t lying about that.” She decided there was no reason not to be forthcoming about
that
particular hazard. “He will be the biggest pain in your ass. Seriously.”

“Strange, but that’s the second time in one day that I’ve heard those words applied to your father.” He seemed amused more than irritated. Good.

“Perhaps he’s also a pain in my ass,” she suggested with caution.

Something seemed to click in Anatoly’s expression. He stilled, his hands slowly clenching into fists at his sides. “Are you saying that your father touches you in anger?”

“Oh no!” she said quickly, realizing her mistake. “No, definitely not. I’m sorry. I never meant to give you that impression.” Trisha struggled to explain. “My father loves me. He just loves me a little too much and a little too seriously.”

“Overprotective?”

She bobbed her head in agreement. “Very. I wanted to study abroad just to get away for a while.”

“And now?”

“And now, I don’t know.” Trisha was uncomfortable with this conversation. Why was she discussing her future plans with the man who had taken her captive against her will? Oh wait. Because if she was smart, she could use him to get what she wanted. “You’re offering me a way to stay here. I don’t know what comes after that. I’ll have to play it by ear.”

He said something in Russian that she didn’t quite catch. Then he chuckled. “You are a very interesting woman, Trisha Copeland. By the time I think I have you figured out, you change and I feel I must start over.”

“Good. I would hate to become predictable.” She shifted uncomfortably on the bed. This was incredibly odd. She was lying in bed while still wearing her dress. And she had no idea if Anatoly knew that she had come very close to trying to leave his penthouse.

ANATOLY STARED AT Trisha because he could not stop. She sat in the center of the bed with the covers pulled up to her chest. Her red hair was gently mussed, the short curls falling forward over her cheeks and framing her face. The green eyes were sleepy, and yet the intelligence shining out of them was considerable. She was utterly kissable and completely enchanting.

Anatoly sat on the edge of the bed. At times Trisha seemed to be an experienced flirt. At others she was anything but. The contrast delighted him. Now he reached out and took her hand in his. He traced the lines on the palm of her hand and felt her shiver beneath his touch.

“You will enjoy your week here with me,” he decided.

She tugged her hand back. “So are we not even pretending now that I committed some bogus crime in your casino?”

He had forgotten that for the moment. How odd. “Does it matter?”

“You insulted me,” she said quietly. “So yes. It matters.”

“Ah, your pride was wounded by the notion that you could be perceived as a criminal. Yes?”

“Yes.” She was looking at him as though he were a simpleton. How novel.

Anatoly shrugged and pulled her hand back into his lap. He touched the inside of her wrist and felt the racing of her pulse beneath her skin. She was so feminine, and yet there was not an ounce of the calculation or manipulation that had become so much a part of his recent experience with the fairer sex.