Russian Mobster's Princess Read online

  What wasn’t familiar was her body’s instant and complete response to his proximity. Had he always been this handsome? She couldn’t seem to recall that his eyes had been that lovely shade of chocolate, or that his body had been so firm and muscular. And his arms looked so very strong. She wondered what it would feel like to have them around her. The memory of their wedding kiss ghosted through her mind, and she nearly tasted the spicy male flavor of him on her tongue. Everything south of her navel went up in flames, and she got an odd melting feeling at her core. What was going on?

  “Viktor?” She couldn’t keep the shock from her voice. “Why are you here? Did you come to see the ballet?”

  Of course, what she should have asked was whether or not he had brought one of his many women to see the ballet. Her father took great pleasure in mocking her over the fact that her husband could not be bothered to remain faithful.

  “Kira, we need to talk.” Viktor’s tone was terse. “You’ve been ignoring your father’s phone calls all week long.”

  “Yes.” She couldn’t imagine why Viktor should care. She made her way to her dressing table and sat down to unlace her toe shoes. “I have nothing to say to my father.”

  “He was attempting to get in touch with you to make sure you are safe.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Viktor purse his lips in obvious irritation. “Do you have no concern for the worries of your family?”

  “Since typically my father’s only worry involves his gleefully recounting the details of your last sexual exploit, no. I cannot say that I put much energy into worrying about what my father thinks, says, or does.” Kira did not even try to meet his gaze. She was so embarrassed she knew she would only blush like a schoolgirl. “I have worked very hard to put all of the mafia nonsense behind me.”

  If Viktor was discomfited by her allusions to his infidelity, he chose not to address it. “Well, there are some things about the mafia that cannot be left behind or ignored. This is one of them.”

  “How so?” Kira challenged. “I am twenty-one now. I am no longer a child to be ordered here and there by men who only want to trade me off in some asinine power play.”

  VIKTOR CERTAINLY COULD not argue with Kira about that point. She was not a child. Even with her hair pulled so severely away from her face into a bun and the stage makeup altering her pixie-like features, he could see the incredible change three years’ time had wrought in his innocent young bride.

  His fingers brushed the manila folder he had brought with him to the dressing room. The feeling of the cool paper brought him back to the moment at hand and his purpose for being there. “Kira, this is not a question of power plays or the games you believe we are playing. This is about your safety.”

  “Really?” Her elegant brows rose in something that might have been called sarcasm. “Do tell.”

  “Someone is targeting the wives of mafia lieutenants.” Viktor had to grit his teeth against the anger he felt at the senselessness of this crime. “At first it was just harassment, cutting tires and hang up phone calls. That sort of thing.”

  “And now?” Unless he missed his guess, he had yet to actually gain her attention. “I mean, I hate to point out the obvious, but actually living the mafia lifestyle just means surrounding yourself with a bunch of thugs that would kill you if they thought it was to their benefit.”

  Viktor picked up the folder he had brought and opened it. He walked the three steps to the other dressing table and tossed down the photographs he’d pilfered from the police. They were gruesome. Atalya Alexandrovna had been beaten so severely that she was hardly recognizable. Both of her eye sockets were shattered, and she had eventually died from a blow to the back of her head after three hours of surgery at a hospital.

  Kira sucked in a quick breath and covered her mouth with her hand. Finally he had broken through that damnable self-control.

  “Atalya,” she whispered. “Is she dead?”

  “Yes. She died on the operating room table last night.”

  He saw Kira’s throat move as she swallowed. “Atalya was married to one of my father’s lieutenants—Boris.”

  “I know.” Viktor pursed his lips. “I’m sorry to scare you like this, but it is necessary. You must understand that you are in danger.”

  “You believe that this—” She gestured to the photographs and muttered something dark in Russian. “—madman. You believe he will come after me?” Her delicate brow furrowed. “Why? I am no longer involved in the doings of the mafia. I am a dancer. I have not been a part of this world since I married you three years ago.”

  “And yet that is the very thing that makes you so vulnerable.” Viktor gritted his teeth, hating the truth of this. “You are my wife, Kira. Therefore you are a target.”

  “And what would you propose that I do? Hide in my apartment until this is over?” She shook her head so emphatically that the tiny flowers woven into her bun shivered. “I cannot do this. Sleeping Beauty runs for one more week. This is my first big part. I am so close to my goals. I refuse to let some petty mafia war ruin that for me!”

  Her passionate speech touched him. Viktor wondered if he had ever experienced such a drive to do something that he loved, but could not think of one example.

  He sighed. “Come with me to a safe house, and you have my word that I will do what I can to preserve your dancing.”

  “Twenty-four hours,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I will go with you for twenty-four hours. After that, I must come back to the ballet. I cannot simply walk away in the middle of a performance run. That would be unforgivable.”

  “Not even when your safety is at stake?” Viktor asked dubiously.

  She held firm. He could see the fiery determination in her eyes. “Not even then. What does it matter if I am killed if staying alive means I cannot dance?”

  “Surely you don’t mean that.” He gazed at her, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

  She shrugged. “Believe what you want. I cannot imagine why you would even care.”

  Viktor was taken aback. “You are my wife and therefore my responsibility. Of course I care about your safety.”

  “Wife in name only,” she snorted. “And it isn’t as if you’ve taken any vows of that kind seriously, which leads me to believe that you have other motives.”

  The wave of guilt that flooded Viktor at that mild accusation left him feeling uncomfortable and uncertain. He did not flaunt his liaisons, but he was a man. He had needs. How would she even know of such things?

  She peeled off the wings and other fripperies of her costume and then pulled on a pair of leggings and a baggy sweatshirt over her tights and leotard. “Are we ready?” She picked up a bag and looked to him expectantly.

  Viktor nodded and opened the door, glancing to the left and right. There was some post performance bustle in the hallways. Nothing struck him as out of the ordinary. He led the way to the car he had left in the alley to the side of the theater and wondered over the changes time had wrought in his innocent young bride.

  Chapter Two

  Kira could barely contain her horror over what had happened to Atalya. The young woman had been the closet thing Kira had to a friend within the ranks of the mafia. Her husband Boris was one of Anton Berezin’s most loyal men. That meant that Atalya had often come with her husband to meetings at the Berezin household. She had frequently drawn Kira into conversation with her friendly vitality and wit.

  “Are you all right?” Viktor asked.

  She tilted her head to catch a glimpse of him. He drove the car expertly and with a commanding presence that she found strangely attractive.

  Trying to remain unaffected, she focused on the facts. “Where are we going?”

  “To a safe house.”

  Kira made a little sound of distaste. “Can you not keep an eye on me in my own apartment? I have things to do tomorrow.”

  “For now, this will be safer.” It was his only response. There was no hint of the plan he intended to put int
o place to restore her independence.

  They drove in silence. She stared at the dark shapes of the city buildings flashing by and wondered where they would go. Her apartment was near the ballet. “Do we have to go so far out? I feel safer when I stay close to the ballet.”

  “There’s no point in staying in the same neighborhood when we’re trying to throw someone off your scent.”

  “Oh.” She bit her lip. “I suppose that’s logical.”

  He pulled into an underground garage. “Here we are. I had some of the boys go out and get some groceries in preparation for our arrival.”

  “Wait.” Kira froze. “Our arrival? You’re staying here with me?”

  “I thought you understood that I would be staying with you to make certain you are safe.” He pulled into a parking spot and put the car in park. “There’s no reason to be a prude about it. I won’t touch you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Kira straightened until she was sure her spine would snap. “You don’t have to sound so pleased by that.”

  “What?” Now he was frowning in consternation.

  She very nearly rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to seem so glad to avoid touching me. If I’m so distasteful to you, I can just go back to my apartment.”

  “Stop being ridiculous.” He growled the words at her. “Just get out of the car. Now.”

  Kira flinched at his tone. He really was a beast. “There’s no need to be so mean.”

  “Kira.” The fire of temper in his eyes underscored the hard edge in Viktor’s tone. “Get out of the fucking car.”

  She opened the door and got out, clutching her bag to her chest all the while. She was tired, and her muscles were starting to tighten up the longer she sat around. She hadn’t had a chance to stretch properly in her dressing room before Viktor showed up. Now she stiffly followed his lead to an elevator and wished she were anywhere else but here.

  “It’s not a funeral,” he said gruffly. “You don’t have to look so morose.”

  “I don’t want to be here,” she reminded him. “Shall I pretend to be happy just so you feel better?”

  He punched the button for the fifteenth floor of the building, and the elevator doors whooshed closed. Kira wished she were anywhere but here. Being shut up inside a tiny box with this man was insufferable. Worse, she couldn’t understand why her body was so obviously responding to his nearness. She should loathe the very air he breathed, and yet when she inhaled in the close space she caught a hint of his spicy male scent. It brought to mind the day of their wedding and the strangeness of that kiss. His lips had looked unyielding, yet they were so incredibly soft. She wondered if they would feel that way if she kissed him again.

  “What?” he asked sharply.

  Kira felt the heat of a blush and fought to maintain her cool demeanor. “Nothing. I was simply wishing that this interminable elevator ride were over. That’s all.”

  The elevator dinged as it stopped on their floor. Viktor’s lips stretched into a tight smile. “And you get your wish.”

  She followed him down a narrow hallway to a door on the right. He put in a key and pushed his way inside. Kira followed, holding her breath and almost dreading what she might see.

  “Sorry,” Viktor muttered. “Although it could certainly be worse.”

  Kira didn’t answer. She walked to the middle of the room and spun a tight circle. The dingy green shag carpet certainly didn’t do anything for the space, nor did the dull brown linoleum in the kitchen, or the chipped Formica countertops. There was a small refrigerator and a stove that looked as if it had seen better days. Someone had put a microwave on one countertop opposite the sink.

  The rest of the apartment wasn’t much better. A sagging brown couch, a recliner that was almost threadbare in places that sat before one tiny television on a rickety cart. At least the bathroom was tolerable. The white porcelain fixtures looked as though they hailed from another era, but there were no massive cockroaches waiting in the sinks.

  VIKTOR WAITED FOR Kira to notice what he already had. He saw her drift into the bedroom and then come out and open a closet door. Then she turned and looked at him with an expression of uncertainty.

  “There’s only one bedroom?” she demanded, an obvious note of panic in her voice.

  Viktor nodded. There was really no need to soften the blow. “That’s right. If we sleep on opposite sides of the bed, it will be perfectly proper.”

  She snorted. “Considering we are married, it would be perfectly proper anyway. I’m just not accustomed to sharing a bed with anyone.”

  He could not have said why, but that statement gave him immeasurable relief. Still, he saw no need to treat her like a princess. “I suppose you can sleep on the sofa, if you’d like.”

  She gazed with distaste at the sagging cushions and hard, unforgiving arms. “I’m a dancer, not a pygmy! I’ll be a pretzel by tomorrow if I try to sleep there. My rest is very important.”

  “Then I suppose you’ll be sleeping in the bed with me.” He shrugged.

  She looked huffy. “You know, you’re not much of a gentleman.”

  “Why? Because I would rather share a bed with my wife than go sleep on an ancient couch made for dwarves? Yes. That does make me quite an ass.”

  “Exactly!”

  “I do not recall you being such a diva when we were married,” Viktor said irritably. “Or have you forgotten who it is that continues to pay your bills?”

  She froze in the middle of trying to answer him back. He could see the shame on her face and felt horrible for being the one to put it there. Still, she needed to remember how things worked. But instead of being contrite, she stomped over to her bag and pulled out what appeared to be a bankbook.

  She then thrust the book at him. “This record shows where all of your stipend money has been going. I created a savings account in your name, and every month when you send me the payment, I put it in this account.”

  For some reason, this really pissed Viktor off. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I can take care of myself!”

  Her vehemence confused him. “Why are you shouting at me?”

  “You’re the one who is shouting.” She pointed at him.

  Finally she turned her back to him and stalked over to the sofa. She was muttering in Russian, too low and fast for him to understand. Viktor didn’t get it. Kira had been unassuming and almost docile when he had first met her. Where had this attitude come from?

  She was digging in her bag. Finally, she plopped down on the floor and began to stretch. He watched for several moments before he realized he was staring.

  “Why are you doing that?” he asked.

  She didn’t even look up to meet his gaze. “Because if I don’t, I will be sore as hell tomorrow. I danced tonight, but you interrupted my cool down. Normally I would have gone through all of these stretches in my dressing room.”

  “Oh.” He couldn’t really fault that. “Then I will leave you to it. I have to call my brother Nicholas and tell him that we made it here safely.”

  She didn’t even look up when he disappeared into the bedroom. Viktor wondered why he cared so much. It was as if she disliked him when all he had done was leave her alone as she had wanted.

  He dialed up Nicholas on his phone. “We made it,” he told his brother in Russian.

  “Ah, your first night alone with your bride. I’m sure you have great plans.”

  “Not likely.” Viktor considered Nicolas’s words. “She is nothing like Elena. My wife was soft and amiable. This woman is just as likely to kick me in the balls as she is to warm my bed. Besides, I still belong to Elena. You know that.”

  “Perhaps I was wishing that after three and a half years, you would let that ghost rest,” Nicholas suggested. There was an odd note to his voice. “She was an incredible woman. Some days I can hardly believe she is gone.”

  “No more talk of ghosts,” Viktor said firmly. “Have you discovered anything else about the mu
rder?”

  “No.” Nicholas made a frustrated noise. “Worse, Anton is breathing down our necks. He wants answers. He is starting to make wild accusations that we are incapable of caring for his daughter.”

  “So you think he is going to make trouble?” Viktor wondered what to make of his father-in-law’s complaints.

  “I vote we lock the woman up in a safe house by herself and forget about it. Problem solved.”

  “Hardly. Kira isn’t nearly as biddable as she was three years ago.”

  “She’s a woman. They’re all cantankerous wenches when the situation calls for it. She’ll come around. And until that time, perhaps you should use the tools at your disposal in any way that accomplishes your goal.”

  “Meaning?” Viktor frowned.

  “Seduce the woman. By this time, you should have had a child or two off her anyway. What other use is a wife?”

  Viktor looked at the double bed as he contemplated the idea. Even the thought of it felt disloyal to Elena’s memory. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Tell the men to find this bastard and put an end to all this bullshit. That is the best way.”

  “There is a council meeting tomorrow. You will be there, and you will bring the girl. That should satisfy Anton and keep him off my back for a little longer at least.”

  Viktor grunted. He did not much care for Kira’s father or his power games.

  A soft knock told him Kira was at the bedroom door.

  “I’ll speak with you tomorrow then,” Viktor told Nicholas before hanging up.

  Opening the bedroom door, Viktor gestured that Kira should enter. She was still dressed as she had been before.

  Viktor raised a brow. “Do you truly need that many layers of clothing as protection from me?”

  “I don’t know. Do I?”

  Viktor stood stiffly on the side of the bed near the windows. “You have nothing to fear from me. My heart still belongs to another.”

  Her brows drew together. “Elena?”

  “Yes.”

  Kira looked as if she might say something, but then shrugged. “As you wish. I’ll take the side closest to the door. If you touch me, I cannot vouch for how I might react.”