Nikolai (The Romanovs Book 1) Page 10

  Vladimir waits for me at a nearby café, sunglasses shielding his eyes as he sips at his coffee. Two bodyguards stand at a discreet distance. They start forward as I get closer. My father raises a hand, and they drop back.

  “Thank you for meeting me,” I say, taking the seat across from him.

  A server comes by our table, and I order a drink.

  Vladimir takes off his sunglasses, his pale eyes a mirror image of my own. I’ve inherited his height and lean build as well.

  However, I take after my mother in all other things—a male version of her, if you will. Perhaps this is why he dares to meet with me in public. No one would ever think we were related, much less father and son.

  “I was bored,” he answers. “You amuse me.”

  If he thinks to hurt me, he’s sorely mistaken. I don’t give a damn. “I’ve been ordered to execute your son.”

  His eyes widen fractionally. “That is neither amusing nor boring.”

  “But it is true.”

  The server comes by with my coffee. I add milk and sugar, and then wait, letting the silence speak for me.

  “How much?”

  I give him the number. He curses under his breath. “Christian or Sebastian?”

  “Does it matter?” I ask.

  He pauses for only a moment, but in that brief time, I realize the truth. It does matter to him. If I were to say Christian, then he would walk away and leave my younger half-brother to the wolves.

  “Of course not.” His gaze shifts away. “I was merely curious.”

  Such an obvious lie. “It’s Sebastian. He is to pay for your refusal to honor contracts.”

  Vladimir eyes me, as if to try to discern if I’m telling the truth or not. I hold up my hands and tilt my head to one side, before picking up my coffee cup. “I have no reason to lie to you.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” he asks lightly. His hands, however, tell a different story. One is fisted, and the other is gripping the handle of his mug so tightly his knuckles are white.

  “I thought you should know.” Setting down my cup, I eye him.

  He says nothing to this, merely looks around the café. People are laughing, talking, and taking in the sights.

  “Do you plan on seeing this through?” he finally asks.

  I shrug, staring at the tourists. Everly would love it here. I should take her to see the Astronomical Clock. Perhaps this evening, before the final show plays at eight. “I plan on consulting Grandfather.”

  “Is he the decider of life and death now?”

  “He is the head of our family,” I remind him. Does Vladimir truly think I will execute Sebastian? I’ve already killed a man in order to save two lives, but now that I know Petrov is not the one who put the contract out on Sebastian, I’m back at the beginning.

  “I suppose you want what you have been offered.”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “How much?” he demands.

  I level him with a look. If he wishes to see me like this, then I will play the part. “You can’t afford to pay what I’m worth.”

  His face goes white. “What about a trade?”

  The fucking bastard. He wants to trade Christian for Sebastian. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Me.”

  I barely stop myself from asking why. I refuse to move a muscle or acknowledge his sacrifice. He will have to work for my mercy.

  “You?” Only years of discipline keep my face impassive. An assassin wears a mask at all times. Not even my eyes can give me away.

  Affronted, Vladimir sneers at me. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  Yes, you sorry bastard, it is. Discreetly, I take out my gun and show it to him. “Shall I do it now?”

  “No.” His lips thin. “I know how this works. You’ll need to clear it with your contact first. I have to know Sebastian will be safe.”

  “What of Christian?” I put my gun away.

  He makes a sound of disgust. “What of him?”

  I’m confused at this point. Why not offer the younger son, instead of himself? Vladimir is known for many things, but sacrifice is not one of them. “I will allow you to choose the place, day, time, and method.”

  He visibly relaxes. “Morocco, my yacht, in three days, 9:00 a.m., and an explosion. But first, I want something to relax me. I don’t want to feel a thing.”

  “Are you positive?”

  Instead of answering, he asks, “How is Katerina?”

  My distrust of him grows. He never concerns himself with her. “My mother is well.”

  He nods. “This is good. Perhaps I should go see her, before… I love her, you know. You as well, Nikolai. But there were things she couldn’t give me, so I had to make a choice. I had to do what was best for my future.”

  Is this his deathbed confession? I stare at him while he takes a sip of his coffee and then continues, “My father won’t live forever, and when he dies, change will happen. There are those who would like to see another in charge, one without the Romanov name.”

  “Let them come,” I finally say.

  “Kolya,” he says in a voice I haven’t heard since I was a small child. “You will be targeted first.”

  “I know.” But what I don’t know is why he appears to care. My life has never mattered to him before, only my status as Grandfather’s favorite.

  He sighs. “You’ve grown into a proper man, a man worthy to be head of the Romanov family. I wish my other sons were more like you.”

  Vladimir has to be joking. Or insane. Possibly both. “You wish your sons to be killers?”

  “Blyad.” He slices his hand through the air. “They are soft and spoiled, the both of them. They’ve no understanding of our ways, though I tried to teach them.”

  “Perhaps you should have left them with Grandfather.” Like you did me.

  “Perhaps. But I had different goals in mind for Sebastian and Christian.”

  “What were your goals for me?” I have no idea why I ask this. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need his approval. I don’t need him at all.

  He smiles. It is neither evil nor sweet and indulgent. His smile is just there, a mere movement of muscles forced upward. “To survive.”

  Setting my coffee down, I rise to my feet. “I’ll let you know.” Without waiting for his reply, I walk away, disappearing into the crowds in case he has an urge to follow.

  I glance at my watch. Only thirty minutes passed while we talked, while we decided who lived and died. Cold seeps into my bones. Cold and desolation. I have to kill my father in order to save his son.

  Playing God is overrated.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  When I return to the hotel, Ben is where I left him, except he’s commandeered one of the club chairs by the elevator. Something I would have never done because it draws too much attention. Then again, I instructed the staff to give us complete privacy.

  He gets up when he sees me, shoving his phone in the back pocket of his trousers. “That didn’t take long,” he says cheerfully and nods at the door. “Completely quiet.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

  Ben rolls his eyes. “I’m surprised you admitted to feeling anything at all for her.”

  Affronted, I turn to him. “I feel things.”

  “Hunger and pain don’t count.”

  “Why do I engage with you?” I run a hand through my hair.

  He punches me in the shoulder. “Because I’m your favorite cousin.”

  Ben’s not my only cousin, so I can’t confirm that. “You’re tolerable.”

  “Admit it. You love me.”

  I grunt in reply.

  “That’s caveman for yes,” he says as I produce the hotel key.

  “Go home to your mother, boy.”

  “Your mother has left her home,” Ben says as I open the door.

  I pause. “And?”

  “She boarded a plane to…uh…” He scratches his chin. “Somewhere sunny.”


  Somewhere sunny? Jesus. I don’t need this added burden. “Perhaps she needed a holiday.”

  “Yeah. Okay, later, cuz.” He walks away, whistling as he goes. His shoulders are broad, without the weight of the world on them. For some reason, Grandfather has not insisted he be trained as an assassin. I think it amuses Grandfather that Ben’s interest lies in hacking into government databases and the like.

  I shove all thoughts of Ben away as I step inside the suite. I hear water running in the bathroom and make my way there, taking off my clothes as I go.

  Just as I suspect, Everly is in the shower. Water and soap run down her body as she washes. My dick gets hard. I step inside, tossing a condom on the shower seat as she turns around. She slaps a hand on her chest, a small squeak escaping her.

  “You scared me to death,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her hot, wet body presses into mine. “How is your grandfather?”

  “As expected.”

  “Which means?”

  “No visitors beyond family.”

  She frowns.

  “Yet. Perhaps at the end of the week. Surely you can stay a bit longer with me.” I dip my head, claiming her mouth for a kiss, not wanting to hear her answer. When I’m with her, I have no thought of the future, of my job, of death, or the past. I’m fully in the present.

  “I can stay longer.” She slides her hands down my back and grabs my ass. “I could bounce a quarter off this.”

  “This is a good thing?”

  Everly laughs. “A very good thing.”

  “Are you sore?”

  She nods, a fierce blush covering her face. “I had to hobble in here.”

  “My poor girl. Shall I run a bath for you?” I reach between us, cupping her. “I could wash you.”

  Her breath hitches. “Please, Roman. I’m… I can’t.”

  I rub her swollen clit, and she makes a breathy sound. “You can. I’ll be gentle.”

  She nods. “Very gentle, please.

  “Whatever you need.” I grab the condom I brought with me. In less than thirty seconds, it’s in place, and I’m ready to claim her once more.

  Lifting her up, I lean her against the tiled wall of the shower, and say, “Put your legs around my waist.”

  She wraps her legs around me as I work the head of my dick inside of her. Her sweet lips part with a whimper. I won’t lie, the thought of her struggling to take me turns me on. The erotic resistance against my cock makes me growl low in my throat in complete ecstasy.

  “Easy, easy, sólnishko moyó,” I croon in Russian. My sweetheart. “Just a little at a time.”

  Her fingernails dig into my skin and my hips jerk against her, sending me deep inside. I groan as her hot walls clench at me.

  “That’s more than just a little,” she says, breathless and accusing.

  Fuck, did I hurt her? “I’m sorry, love.” I start to withdraw. “I’ll stop.”

  “No.” She tightens her legs around me. “Don’t stop. I want you inside me.”

  “How deep?”

  Her eyes darken. “As deep as you can go.”

  I thrust hard and her head falls back. I lick a path up her neck. “How’s this?” I pull out and thrust inside again. “And this?” Over and over, I sink into her, not allowing her time to answer. I want her mindless. I want her screaming my name.

  Biting down on her neck, I scrape my teeth against her skin. Her thighs quiver. I groan as her entire body trembles.

  I find the lobe of her ear, licking and sucking on it. “You’ve been so very good, taking all of my cock when your pussy is so sore from fucking. Shall I allow you to come?”

  “God, Roman. When you talk like that,” she gasps.

  I push back the hair that’s fallen over her beautiful face. “Like what?”

  “So honest. So real.” She blinks up at me. “It turns me on and makes me want to be that way with you, too.”

  I let my forehead drop to hers as I slow my thrusts, as I force my body to become tender and loving, instead of this savage beast I’ve let out.

  This is the only time I can be honest with her. She doesn’t know my real name. She doesn’t know I’m a killer. That I’m a filthy monster hiding in plain sight. Why in the hell did I ever allow things to go this far with us?

  “Roman?”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Yes, love?”

  “Make me come,” she orders, and just like that, I’m out of my head and focused on her once more.

  As I suspected, Everly adores the Astronomical Clock. She takes picture after picture with her phone, smiling all the while.

  “Roman,” she shouts, waving me over. “Let’s take a picture together.”

  Like a dutiful lover, I stride to her and indulge in the pretense of our relationship. It’s not entirely one-sided, but I’m still guarding my heart against her.

  “Thank you,” she says, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

  My heart speeds up from her innocent show of affection. So much for guarding it.

  I take her hand, lace our fingers together, and begin to walk with her along the streets. It’s cold, and our breath comes out in little puffs.

  “Are you enjoying your trip?” I ask, stopping by a street vendor to purchase cups of hot chocolate.

  Eyes sparkling in the streetlights, she smiles. “Best trip ever.” Her smile fades. “Well, it would be, if the reason we came here wasn’t because your grandfather had to see a specialist.”

  “There is nothing wrong with enjoying yourself.” I hate that she feels so guilty over a lie. “In fact, I told him more about you. Showed him a picture I had taken.”

  “You did?” She takes the hot chocolate from the street vendor. “What did he say?”

  “That you are a beautiful woman with a loving spirit.”

  Her smile returns. “So, that’s where you get your charm.”

  It’s where I learned to lie, learned to kill, and learned to enjoy my solitude. “What about you?”

  “My charm comes naturally to me.” She winks. “All southern women are born with it. If you aren’t, then they kick you out and make you go live up north with the Yankees.”

  “But you’re a Yankee,” I point out.

  Everly makes a face, clearly offended. “I am not. But some of my friends are, and the little old ladies I help are from up north, bless their hearts,” she adds quickly. She sighs.

  “So all Americans are Yankees except for southerners. Is that correct?”

  “No.” She gives me a look and I wink at her. With a laugh, she lightly smacks my shoulder. “You are a tease, Roman.”

  “I thought you loved it when I tease, so…”

  She leans against me and sighs one of her adorable sighs. “I do love you—when you tease me, that is.” An uncomfortable silence fills what little space is between us. I can pretend to have only heard the last part and not the first. But at this moment, I can’t pretend at all. I can’t ignore her slip of the tongue. Yet I remain mute.

  After a minute, she clears her throat. “Look. People selling things. I like things.”

  She walks away, steaming cup of hot chocolate in her hand. I rub the back of my neck. Take down evil, kill in the morning, and back by the afternoon in order to see her face. Absolutely no problem.

  But to acknowledge what lies in Everly’s heart and possibly mine—I’m a bloody rookie.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I join Everly on the balcony of our suite. She’s bundled up in a fluffy, white robe. She didn’t say much on the way back, but she held my hand the entire time.

  A good sign, I suppose.

  The view of Prague from Hotel Pariz is world famous, and the starry sky is beyond words, but all I see is Everly. The graceful curve of her neck, the way her skin nearly glows in the moonlight, and the small smile on her lips. Does she even know I’m outside with her, or is she so lost in her thoughts that I’m not even a blip on her radar?

  I cover her small hand with mine. Her s
kin is ice cold. “Shall we go to bed?”

  “I’m not sleepy,” she says, still not turning my way.

  “We don’t have to go to sleep.”

  She shakes her head, sending mahogany-colored waves tumbling over her back. “I’m not—”

  “We could watch a film.”

  Finally, she turns to me and there are tears in her eyes. Shocked and furious, I look for the one who has done this to her. “What’s wrong?”

  She shrugs, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t know.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t know,” she repeats, and I start to panic. What does she know? Has Viktor gotten to her? “I’m not sure what’s going on, Roman.”

  Fuck me. She does know. “I’m only trying to protect you, Everly. I want you to know that. If you believe nothing else about me, believe that I never want to see you hurt or—”

  “Protect me from what—myself?” She sniffs, her spine visibly stiffening. “I’m a stupid romantic who decided to take a chance and fly halfway around the world with a man I’ve known for months, yet know absolutely nothing at all about. And it’s plain as the nose on my face that you don’t feel the way I do.”

  Taking her by the shoulders, I bend my knees slightly to get on eye level with her. “I forbid you from calling yourself stupid. There’s not a damn thing wrong with being a romantic, with taking a chance. I’ve—you don’t know what I’ve risked being with you.”

  “You’re right. I don’t know, because you don’t share anything about yourself, while I can’t shut up. You know everything about me, from my family to my favorite drink. You know what I like to read, my favorite candy…while I don’t even know how you like your coffee. Or how you got that scar on your back.”

  I take her in my arms, trying to comfort her. “But you do know,” I murmur into her hair. “You know more about me than you think. More than any other person should.”

  “I don’t,” she cries softly. “I only know what you want me to.”