Night Shift
Once the deal for Vladimir’s surrender was made, I was shocked Maksim kept his word. He whisked me away from his tech lair and into a contemporary dream home with a breathtaking view of London. The flat was decorated in a minimalist style featuring a pristine white seating area and a metallic bar with matching stools upholstered with distressed leather.
Tasteful black and white photos of nude models hung on the walls along with framed pop art pieces that appeared to be a series of Andy Warhol originals. Only a billionaire could afford swanky digs like this in the heart of the city, and I surmised it was Maksim’s personal residence.
My captor stopped at the bar and poured himself a scotch from a crystal decanter then gave me a tour of his bachelor pad. It was an open concept design with massive windows on every side to showcase an impressive view of the city. He led me down a hallway to a closet that doubled as a dressing room and was bigger than my entire apartment back home.
It was stocked with a wardrobe of cocktail dresses, designer shoes, and an overindulgent supply of accessories on one side. On the other, slick suits lined the closet along with an endless array of dress shirts, ties, and shoes made from exotic leathers. There was a styling station down the center of the room lined with mirrors and clear white lightbulbs, hair accessories, makeup, a manicure station, and all the amenities of a full-service salon.
“To celebrate your arrival in London, I’m treating you to a special dinner this evening. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a wardrobe for you from Harrods. Peruse the dresses, pick your favorite, and my stylists will put you together.” Maksim motioned for me to head over to the walk-in closet.
A petite Asian woman dressed in black from head to toe led me through the forest of glitz and glam. She selected a couple pieces she thought would flatter my curves, and although I didn’t give a damn about what I wore to dinner, I did need to choose a loose-hanging style to hide my baby bump. I riffled through the selections and found an empire dress with a waistline below the bust. The cream-colored skirt flowed loosely down to my knees and had multiple crushed silk layers to hide my growing midsection.
“This one. I love it.” I handed it to the stylist without asking for her professional opinion. Regardless of my need to hide my waistline, it was a modest choice compared to some of the slinkier designs. Maksim insisted he was a man of his word. I prayed he was telling the truth about keeping his hands off me, but I didn’t want to give him the impression I was trying to look nice for him.
The stylist emerged from the closet and held up my choice to the boss for inspection. Maksim gave his approval and remarked I had exquisite taste. He was in a barber’s chair getting a trim, a shave, and a manicure to look his best for the evening as well. A male stylist with his hair slicked back in a ponytail greeted me with a charming smile and studied my body to get an idea of what he had to work with. While Vladimir and I were hiding out in the mountains, we had all the essentials we needed to survive, but we didn’t have modern amenities. My untrimmed nails and split ends suggested I had been on an extended camping trip for the last three months.
The charming Brit picked up my hand and sighed. “Don’t worry, missy. You’ll look marvelous when I’m done with you. Relax and let me take care of everything.” Being around kind, decent people eased my tension. Constant stress wasn’t good for my health, and kicking and screaming in protest would lead to Yuri wadding me up in a ball and stuffing me into a suitcase for the rest of my stay.
The stylist brought in his team and set my makeover in motion. While one person shampooed and conditioned my hair, another detoxified my skin with an aromatic salt scrub and wrapped my hands and feet in a warm paraffin wrap. Then it was on to hair styling and makeup before I slipped into my glamorous cocktail dress. In the time I had gotten the first couple rounds of my style completed, Maksim had dressed in a slender blue suit, crocodile shoes, and a fashionable pair of dark-rimmed glasses. His neck tats were a stylistic rendition of the New York Stock Exchange symbol of a bull and bear. With his silky striped shirt unbuttoned a few notches, I caught a glimpse of an eagle tattoo across his chest. That man didn’t have a drop of modesty in his body and looked every bit of the pretentious, power hungry, unsavory billionaire I knew him to be.
Cloaked in a heavy cloud of cologne, Maksim stood behind me and gazed at my reflection in the mirror. “You look good enough to eat, Carter.”
The stylist played with my long blonde hair and asked Maksim if he preferred it up or down. Maksim eyed me thoughtfully then motioned for him to step aside. He took his place and ran his fingers through my waves and massaged my neck and shoulders. I was in pain from Yuri’s torture session, and his warm, strong hands relieved the pressure in my aching muscles, but I shrugged him off to make it clear his hands were not welcome anywhere on my body.
He met my gaze in the mirror and tossed me a smug grin as he gathered my locks into his fist and twisted them into a freestyle bun. With my hair up, he had a perfect view of the scar on my neck left by Alexander, an ex-employee of Vladimir’s and now a member of Maksim’s crew. He traced the human bite mark, sending a chill down my spine. My heart pounded as memories of the night Vladimir had lost control in a drunken rage and ordered his human wolf pack to teach me a lesson about loyalty raced through my mind.
Maksim released my locks, allowing my blonde waves to cascade over my shoulders naturally. “I want her hair up. No heavy sprays or stiff styling products. Put in some loose curls and wispy tendrils to frame her face. Give her a dab of nude lip gloss, a whisper of blush, and dark eyeliner to accentuate those gorgeous bedroom eyes.” Maksim leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Thank you for letting me take care of you, Mrs. Ivanov. I promise you will be rewarded for your good behavior.”
His praise sent acid up my throat. I felt ashamed for willingly going through with this twisted bullshit, and I was repulsed that Maksim was going to reward me for being a coward. My job was to protect the baby, but what about my husband? Dangerously stupid ideas about trying to escape came to mind but went screaming out of my head when the image of a bitch-faced demon appeared in the mirror—Valentina.
Maksim’s personal bodyguard’s felonious reflection bore down on me and reminded me not to do anything that would require an attitude adjustment. When I’d seen her at the airport a few hours ago, she was beating the life out of Dmitri and threatening to do the same to me if I failed to comply with her demands. I supposed Yuri had done his job for the day, and now Valentina was taking over for him on the enforcer night shift.
She had changed into her evening attire and wore a form-fitting black leather dress and thigh-high leather boots. Her long, dark hair was pulled up in a bun and her lips were painted a vibrant shade of red, giving her the illusion of a twenty-something-year-old, glamorous woman instead of a lethal devushka charged with heading up security for the most dangerous man in London.
Maksim must’ve felt my body tense and gave my shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Relax, Carter. You have my word, you’re safe with me.” His cell vibrated from his pocket. He retrieved his phone and his face blanched when he saw the number. His lips tightened and it appeared he was debating whether to answer the phone. He gave orders to Valentina concerning where to take me when I was ready and left the room to take the call in private. I prayed Maksim’s agitation was a bad sign for him and a good one for my family.
Once I was dressed, one of the stylists handed me a sparkling clutch and informed me it was stocked with powder, lipstick, and pertinent evening essentials. Valentina ushered me outside to join Maksim for dinner on the balcony. Under a moonlit sky, Maksim’s eyes widened when he regarded my upgraded style and freshly manicured appearance.
“My God, Carter. You’re stunning.” He picked up my hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed my wedding ring. The stone was a rare alexandrite solitaire mined from the Ural Mountains near Vladimir’s hometown of Ekaterinburg. During the day, the stone was a cool blue, but at night, it turned blood red. It was early evening, and the stone was a rich shade of purple as it transitioned to the darkness.
“How is it possible that a woman as desirable as you could love a man like Vladimir?”
I stole my hand away, balled it into a fist, and hid it behind my back. I wiped his rancid mouth germs off my precious stone on the silky fabric of my dress. My gut reaction was to punch him in the face for humiliating me by dressing me up and flaunting me around like one of his expensive toys, but I kept my cool and resisted the urge.
“When you love someone, you don’t pick and choose the best parts you want to keep and throw away their faults. I’m not perfect either. I get all of him, and in return, he gets all of me. We balance each other out.”
“Well said, Carter. I believe your gentle soul is too forgiving—considering all he’s done to you—but I must say, your loyalty is delicious.” He gave me a wink and motioned to a dapper man in a top hat holding a black velvet box. “As a show of my appreciation for your good behavior, I picked out a little something for you.” He lifted the lid and revealed a teardrop pearl choker accentuated with dazzling champagne diamonds. “It brings out the gold in your beautiful hazel eyes.”
I shook my head. “No, no, no, I don’t—”
Before I could finish the sentence, Maksim lifted the necklace out of the box and clasped it around my neck. Guilt washed over me as I considered Vladimir was racing to my rescue, while I was in London accepting lavish gifts from the man who wanted him dead. My husband’s bravery was a testament to his love and commitment to me, but I had to believe he wouldn’t surrender his life and succumb to Maksim’s demands without an exit strategy.
As I fought back tears of shame and frustration, the jeweler swooped in with a tall stack of black velvet boxes. Maksim popped open box after box and adorned me with chandelier earrings, a tennis bracelet, and a pink diamond solitaire cocktail ring.
I fumbled with my purse to find a tissue and managed to dump the contents on the ground. My eyes widened in horror when Maksim knelt and picked up a tube of lip gloss, a compact, and a dozen or so condoms that had dropped at his feet. “Uh, those aren’t mine.” I felt my cheeks flush, and I wanted the earth to open and swallow me whole.
Maksim collected the contraband and attempted to stuff them back in the purse, but I snatched them away from him and darted my gaze around the rooftop to find a place to dispose of them. Potted plants and crystal vases that held exotic flowers were abundant, but no waste receptacles or even a staff member to dump them off on. Well, there was Valentina, but she was giving me the stink eye, and the only other person around was the jeweler who had delivered the velvet boxes.
I smiled politely at the distinguished older gentleman and discarded the condoms into the black box that held the choker, now around my neck. I closed the top to conceal the little devils and gave him an apologetic grin. “We won’t be needing these things tonight. I’m not going to—He’s not my—This isn’t my purse.”
“To each their own, miss.” The jeweler placed his hand on top of the box and stepped away as if the condoms were alive and going to multiply if he didn’t dispose of them immediately.
The awkwardness level had reached Code Red. I snapped the purse shut, hung the strap over my shoulder, and crossed my arms over my chest. “Ready when you are.”
Maksim laughed and extended his elbow. “You’re blushing, Carter. Forgive me. My staff is accustomed to prepping my beautiful companions for a long and pleasurable night out on the town with yours truly. They simply misunderstood our relationship.” He guided me to the dinner table then stopped as if he had just remembered something. “May I take your photograph? I want to assure your husband and father-in-law you are in good health and being treated as a welcome guest in my home. Your family must be worried sick.”
Maksim didn’t give a damn about my family. He wanted to gloat that I had allowed him to dress me up and shower me with expensive jewelry. More importantly, he probably wanted to convince Vladimir I was in good health so he would hand over the hard drive as part of his surrender deal. I had no idea what “Project K” was, but Maksim seemed desperate to get it away from my husband.
I wanted to refuse the picture, but Vladimir and Boris would be relieved to see I wasn’t chained up in the warehouse, and they knew me well enough to understand why I was complying with Maksim’s demands. The baby was our collective concern, and I would do everything I could to keep him safe. “Yes, they would appreciate an update. Thank you.”
I clicked over to the edge of the rooftop in my stilettos and posed in front of the London skyline. I didn’t smile, but did my best to look strong. On the inside, I was an emotional wreck, but for the sake of my family I had to keep it together and never lose hope. Vladimir had wicked smarts and undoubtedly had an exit strategy that included rescuing me and saving himself. We had too much to look forward to in our lives for him to give up and march blindly to his death. My abductor had the upper hand, but he hadn’t won yet. Never underestimate your opponent, Maksim.
He tapped his phone and snapped a pic. “Any message you would like me to send to your family on your behalf?”
“Tell Vladimir navsegda.” It meant “forever” in Russian. The one word that summed up our love and our everlasting commitment to each another. Vladimir had our special word tattooed on his back along with a winged heart with an arrow through the center. Our relationship had been tumultuous from the start, but nothing and no one could ever come between us. The promise of forever would keep him motivated to stay alive and to fight for our love.
Maksim sent the picture, and a moment later, his cell vibrated from an incoming text. “Not bad.” He turned the phone around so I could see the return message from my husband. Vladimir had taken off his shirt on the plane and took a selfie in front of the lavatory mirror, revealing his badass prison tats and Bratva ink on his chest and shoulders, and in his reflection, the tattoo of our forever heart on his back.
No words were necessary to accompany the photo. My husband’s rocking body exuded strength, and his piercing glare sent a message to his enemy that he was the reigning king of the bad boys. No matter what Maksim had planned for Vladimir, my husband would never relent power, and never let Maksim’s bad deed go unpunished.
Mentally, I recited our family creed. Never fuck with an Ivanov.