6 months later
Laney felt the moment he entered the club, his eyes scanning until they captured his prey. She was sitting in her usual dark corner at the bar with her back to the room, but she felt the prickling of his presence down her back. Addison called it her ninja senses. It was the same way she knew when her blind friend needed something. Laney made sure Addison was never left wanting. The two had grown close, especially during Addison’s recovery after a stalker had nearly killed her.
Laney took a careful sip from her glass of ice water, turned slightly on her stool and swiftly scanned the popular casino club from beneath her eyelashes. The unmistakeable figure of a man, standing nearly a foot taller and broader than all others, was cutting a path directly toward her. She considered slipping off her stool and running for the back door, but she knew there was no point. He enjoyed the chase too much. It was better to pretend he had no effect on her. Besides, she couldn’t leave. She was there to protect Claudia, who was currently closeted in her office doing paperwork.
“Laney,” his deep voice rumbled in her ear as his thickly muscled arm came to rest on the bar next to her, effectively trapping her between the bar, his body and the wall. It was a familiar game they played. Her eyes trailed over the Russian tattoos inking his hand and arm.
Boris had pursued her steadily for the past six months, making it clear he intended having her in his bed. She met him with icy indifference at every turn. He had been baffled. Boris was a man clearly unused to meeting resistance in women. At first Laney was an enigma, an adorable challenge. As the months passed and his constant wooing did nothing but gain Claudia’s sympathy and ribbing from his men, Boris’ frustration grew. Laney began to worry about the edge to his voice when he spoke to her lately. It felt as though there were an invisible blade above her head, one that could drop at any moment when he decided he was finished toying with her. She was, after all, dealing with a renowned mafia enforcer.
Laney closed her eyes for a moment and made sure there was a good portion of frost to their depths when she turned them toward the dark ones hovering only inches above her face. “Mr. Grekov,” she replied formally, “are you here to see Ms. Cantore?”
She suppressed a shiver of fear as his hand fisted on the bar next to her body and his eyes snapped in anger. When he spoke, his guttural tones were in heavily accented English. “Do not play games with me, Laney. You know I am here for you only.”
Squaring her shoulders, Laney turned on her stool to face him. This brought her knees against his muscular thighs. His body tightened and he stared down at her, his eyes glowing possessively. She didn’t understand how this man could want her so much. She did nothing to encourage his pursuit, yet he wouldn’t stop. She tilted her chin and glared up at him, her braids to slithering over her shoulders.
“As I have repeatedly told you, I have nothing to say to you. I am not the one playing games,” she snapped at him and slipped sideways off the stool, attempting to escape his presence.
He caught her before she could take two steps away from him, wrapping a massive hand around her arm and dragging her back toward him. His fingers were so long they overlapped on her bicep. She shivered at the thought that he could easily crush the bone beneath his fist. She closed her eyes against the image and reminded herself that he had no idea who she was. She opened them again and glared blazing sapphire anger up at him.
He grinned down at her through his dark beard. Reaching out one long arm, he picked her glass up off of the bar and drank deeply, placing his lips where hers had been moments before. Her stomach clenched and her breath caught in her throat at the intimacy of his action. He set the glass back down on the bar and brushed his knuckles over her bare elbow. She couldn’t help herself, she stomped on his foot, grinding the heel of her military issue boot into his instep. Unfortunately, he also wore thick leather shoes so the sentiment was somewhat mitigated by his hearty footwear.
“Ah, I love foreplay, moy kotenok,” he growled, gripping her tighter.
“I’m not your kitten!” she snapped, yanking her arm futilely.
Laughter rumbled in his chest. “Then stop trying to scratch me and go out with me, Laney Paul. I’m tired of this dance we engage in. Have dinner with me,” he demanded.
She glared at him suspiciously. “Would you finally leave me alone if I agreed to go out to dinner with you?”
“Only if that evening and every other ended in my bed,” he answered easily.
Laney’s mouth opened in shock, her eyes jerking to his. She knew what Boris wanted with her. She’d known for months of his obsession with her, but he had never said anything so blatantly sexual. A wash of embarrassed heat swept over her cheeks. His sharp eyes gentled, and he flicked a long, thick finger over her cheek, enjoying the colour he brought to her face. Laney jerked in his hold, desperate to run and hide from his intense perusal.
“Good evening, Laney. Is my wife in her office?” a deep voice interrupted Laney and Boris’ private moment.
Boris allowed Laney to jump away from him. She quietly let Tyson King know that his wife was indeed in her office and expecting his arrival. King neatly maneuvered himself between the two, his dark eyes taking in the situation at a glance. He’d clearly become fond of Laney since employing her as Claudia’s bodyguard and seemed to watch over the stoic Japanese girl as much as she would allow. It amused him that his fiancé tended to collect misfits.
After all, it would have been hypocritical of King if he became overly outraged at Boris’ heavy-handed courting, considering his near-kidnapping method of procuring his own fiancé. He did not seem amused, however, that Boris was a Russian mafia enforcer. The best in the city, in fact.
Eyeing Boris, King spoke to Laney, “Now that I’m here, you can go home. I’ll make sure Claudia gets out of here safely.”
Laney smiled up at him in relief and reached for her jacket bundled on the corner of the bar. “Thank you, Mr. King. Please tell Claudia I’ll see her in the morning.”
Without so much as a glance toward Boris, Laney made her way swiftly toward the back door. Boris immediately went after her. King reached out to stop him, but Boris froze him with a growl. Boris had a few inches and about fifty pounds on King, but King was still a pretty good match if he decided to take issue. At the very least, King might slow him down enough to give Laney a head start.
“I don’t want to see her hurt,” King rumbled. “I don’t like the shit you Russians are into. She’s my responsibility while she’s working for my wife.”
Boris breathed heavily, nostrils flaring, and finally nodded. “Won’t be your responsibility for long. But I care enough to promise I will do my best to keep her out of Russian shit.”
“Not good enough,” King growled.
Boris growled back. Laney was almost at the back door. “Don’t fucking care what you think. You would have torn the arms off motherfucker that stood between you and your woman.”
A tall, beautiful blond glided between the two massive men. She pressed her body, packed into a tight black pencil skirt and cherry red blouse that dipped low into her cleavage, against King’s wide chest. She looked up at him, took his dark jaw into her palms and, going up onto her toes, pulled his face down to hers for a lingering kiss.
Boris used the distraction to stride away from them. King tensed against her body, but she knew he wouldn’t push her away.
“Let him go,” she said and kissed him again. “He’ll go after her anyway. And I don’t want blood in my club.”
She took his hand and led him into her office, leaving Laney and Boris to sort out their problems while she seduced her big, dark fiancé behind the closed doors of her office.
Boris caught Laney just as she reached the back door. She had been waylaid by one of the bartenders who had some scheduling questions for her. Sometimes Laney filled in for Claudia when in came to club management decisions. Claudia made it clear she trusted Laney implicitly. With one eye on King’s and Boris’ exchange, she had hurriedly solved the scheduling problem and then all but ran for the exit, only to find herself seized once more in Boris’ powerful grip.
“I don’t think so, kotenok,” he growled, lifting her off her feet as she flew through the exit door, her fingertips skimming across the metal bar. His thick forearm bit into her waist as he pulled her into the hardness of his chest.
“Oomph,” she gasped as the air rushed out of her.
He spun her around and pushed her against the brick wall just outside the back door. Laney’s bag dropped from her limp fingers and hit the pavement with a thud. She clutched his shoulders tightly, her fingernails biting into him through his T-shirt. Her feet dangled off the ground and her wide, startled eyes met his. Dim lighting from the single light above the back door illuminated them.
Oh god, she thought wildly, had the sword finally dropped?
Her breath caught in her throat and her heart stuttered in her chest. She knew with everything in her that he was going to kiss her. The look in his eyes was one of burning possession. Like there was no other woman on the planet except her and he would die if he didn’t claim a kiss. But she couldn't let it happen. Boris Grekov couldn’t be allowed to kiss her.
His fingers tightened on her body and her head spun as the air rushed around her. She breathed in his scent as he leaned toward her, so familiar to her now from his constant presence: cedar and just a hint of leather. He usually wore a leather coat, but the evening was so warm and it was missing tonight.
Laney knew instinctively if she struggled in his arms he would force his kiss on her. He was a predator, an alpha male, Russian and a gangster. She shivered against him and whimpered. Slowly, she turned her face away from his and closed her eyes tightly. He stiffened for a second and then continued, his lips tracing a path across her jaw and down her throat.
Laney suppressed a moan as pleasure sizzled through her veins. Boris had never managed to get his hands on her so intimately beyond their first meeting. She knew if he ever touched her again it would be like this. She knew from the moment she set eyes on his picture that Boris would be the one to light her fire. Which was astounding considering she thought she was rendered frigid the moment her father had cut the head off of her first lover.
But this could not be. Laney could not allow herself to fall prey to Boris’ seductive caresses. She forced her lips to move. “Stop,” she whispered.
Her voice was so low that he didn’t hear her at first. His hands continued to hold her up by the waist while his body pressed intimately against her and his lips explored her throat. She repeated herself louder, her voice stronger, angrier.
“Mr. Grekov, stop!” she demanded.
The tone of her voice, combined with his surname finally penetrated the fog of lust brought on by finally getting his hands on the object of his months long obsession. Boris froze, his brain sluggishly catching up to the facts. Laney was struggling in his arms, her voice angry and cold, demanding immediate release.
He reared back to stare at her, his brows snapping together angrily. Slowly he let her slide down the wall to stand on her own. He maintained his hold on her though, knowing she would likely run away the moment he let go. Experience had taught him, this woman would run from him every chance she got.
Her breathing was coming out in quick, angry gasps. “Let me go!”
“Why are you doing this?” he growled down at her, his eyes flicking over her. “I know you desire to be with me. Why not give in?”
“You know nothing!” she snapped at him, her mind thinking quickly. Boris was far too astute for her to keep alluding him with her icy refusals. Especially if he intended to keep cornering her with melting kisses. She wouldn’t be able to resist him!
Thinking quickly Laney stepped forward into his space and poked her finger at him. “You dishonour me with this constant pursuit!”
He crossed his arms over his chest and raised a thick brow. “Explain.”
Mind whirling, Laney came up with the only lie she could think of on the spot. “I am engaged to be married and… and my fiancé would be very angry to find out that I was nearly kissed in a back alley.”
“The fuck you are!” Boris exploded, uncrossing his arms and reaching for her.
Laney gasped and jumped back hitting her wrist hard against the handle of the back door. She cried out in pain and clutched her bruised arm skittering sideways out of his reach. Boris swore again in Russian and visibly calmed himself down, scrubbing a hand over his bearded face and staring hard at her in the shadows.
“Laney, I’m sorry,” he said, his thickly accented voice sounding genuinely apologetic. “You surprised me. There was no hint of man in your life. Please let me see your arm and then I promise I’ll let you go home.”
If there was one thing Laney had learned about Boris in the past several months, it was that he always did what he said. Hesitantly, she stepped forward and allowed him to take hold of her wrist. He gently turned it over, running his broad thumb over the delicate bones of her wrist, checking for damage. When he was sure there was none, he closed his hand over her much smaller one and gave it a gentle squeeze before releasing her. As if to reassure her of his good intentions, he stepped away, his gaze as platonic as he was capable of making it.
“Is he in Japan?” his voice rumbled in the darkness. His eyes glinted in curiosity.
Laney almost asked who he meant and then her brain caught up. “Um, yes,” she replied quickly.
“He’s fucking idiot for letting you live here without him,” Boris said, his voice hard. “If you belonged to me, this would not be allowed.”
Laney’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t belong to you.”
He shrugged, his eyes searching her face intently. “You do not belong to him yet either.”
Her breath caught in her throat. So, her imaginary engagement had only caught him by surprise, it hadn’t actually stopped his obsession with her. She should have known. Perhaps she should have gone with an imaginary husband. Laney wondered how hard it would be to come up with a fake marriage certificate and if that would be enough to deter the massive Russian enforcer.
“I’m leaving,” she announced.
Laney walked past Boris, holding her breath as she did, half afraid that he would grab her again. He did nothing but turn and watch her walk to her vehicle. Laney drove the SUV to King Tower, aware the entire time of Boris’ classic Camaro following her home. He pulled past her and drove away as she turned into the parking garage of the luxury condominium.