Russian Mobster's Pregnant Mistress (4 page)

Maggie spotted the man they had seen that first night leaning against the bar with a drink in his hand. Apparently he was still there picking up dates, or not as the case might have been. The bartenders were still all blond men with perfect bodies and brilliant white smiles. Yet when Maggie bellied up to the bar with Courtney, she felt more at ease than she had on her previous visit.

“You want a Cosmopolitan?” Courtney had to yell to be heard over the music.

Maggie didn’t feel as if her queasy stomach was going to enjoy alcohol very much this evening. “Actually, just get me a ginger ale please?”

“Straight?” Courtney asked incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“Very.” Maggie was already scanning the crowd for familiar faces. “I don’t want to puke and this place smells horrible.”

“It
smells
bad?” Courtney looked confused. “How can you smell anything? It’s all just jumbled together.”

“Speak for yourself,” Maggie muttered. She had to choke down the gag reflex as an overdressed man wafted by on a wave of noxious cologne fumes. “It’s like the whole city decided to shower in their cologne before eating garlic bread for dinner and then smearing fish all over their feet.”

“Okay, that is disgusting.” Courtney made a face. She waved down the nearest bartender. “Give me a Cosmopolitan and a ginger ale please?”

She got the nodded response and the bartender whipped up their drinks and set them on the countertop. Courtney picked hers up and sipped lightly at the liquid. In direct contrast, Maggie downed hers in one pull.

“What is
up
with you?” Courtney looked concerned. “You’re acting so weird!”

Maggie slammed her glass back on the counter. “I’m dying of thirst, that’s all.”

“Oh, oh!” Courtney made a show of deliberately not looking behind them. “There’s a super hot guy headed in this direction. He totally just gave you the once over too.”

“How do you know?” Maggie demanded.

Courtney looked mystified. “How do you not? When you’re in a club you need to be watching every single quarter just in case someone is checking you out. It’s the only way to prepare the appropriate response.”

“And the appropriate response in this case would be?” Maggie was dying to look over her shoulder, but even she knew that would be bad form.

“You should totally dance with this guy. And if he wants you to go get a room with him, you should do it.” Courtney sounded bizarrely businesslike. “He’s a mega hottie. Seriously. Prepare yourself not to act like a deaf mute.”

“I think I’ve got this,” Maggie assured her friend with a chuckle.

From the corner of her eye Maggie noticed a man heading in her direction. She actually felt a pang of disappointment when she realized that it wasn’t Jacob. Not that Courtney would have been able to keep that a secret, but Maggie still couldn’t be certain how she felt about seeing Jacob again.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” The man’s voice was coated in a very familiar Eastern European accent. “My name is Sasha.”

“Hello, Sasha,” Maggie said politely. She was starting to think this was not a normal pickup. Beside her, Maggie sensed Courtney practically panting over this Sasha person.

“I am here on behalf of a man you met nearly a month ago,” Sasha said, leaning in close so she could hear him. “His name is Jacob Dolohov.”

“Wait,
what
?” Courtney, who had obviously been eavesdropping, pointed right at Sasha. “Are you telling me that your criminal friend asked you to come over here and pick up
my
friend?”

Sasha actually looked confused. It would have been amusing if it hadn’t been Maggie’s life. Maggie thought back to that first night. This Sasha guy didn’t look like one of the creepy goons that had been tailing her and Jacob from the club to the hotel. What if he was in a rival mob or something? Did that happen in real life or was she going a little too far down fantasy lane?

“I’m not trying to pick up Ms. Morrison,” Sasha told them.

It occurred to Maggie that she hadn’t given Jacob her surname that night. She’d just told him her name was Maggie. “How do you know my name?” She was afraid she already knew.

“We know a lot of things, Ms. Morrison,” Sasha said. His tone danced perilously close to a threat. “But the only thing that matters for the moment is that Jacob Dolohov would like a word with you.”

“Where is he?” There was no way Maggie was getting into some dark car and driving to a slum somewhere in New York. She might not be an experienced woman of the world, but she hadn’t been born yesterday either.

Sasha gestured to an area at the back of the club that was roped off. “He’s in the VIP section. Considering recent events, he decided it wouldn’t be wise for him to walk about in the open.”

“Recent events,” Courtney scoffed. “I’ll bet.” Then she turned to Maggie. “I think you should tell him to go fuck himself, but I know you probably won’t.”

“I’d like an explanation,” Maggie admitted. She touched Courtney’s arm. “I’ll only be a minute.”

“I’ll stay right here until you text me,” Courtney promised. “But for the record, I think this is a really bad idea.”

Maggie nodded and then turned to follow Sasha. If Courtney was saying that something was a bad idea, it probably meant Maggie should be running the opposite direction, screaming her head off. So much for common sense.

Chapter Five

Jacob could not believe how tense he was waiting for Sasha to return. By the time he saw Sasha’s dark head bobbing through the crowd, Jacob was ready to tackle him for information. Then Jacob realized that Sasha wasn’t alone. Maggie was following close behind him.

The sight nearly took his breath away. She wore a little blue dress that set off her dark hair and made her look even more fairy like. He had remembered her being beautiful, but he hadn’t recalled this sensation of having the wind knocked out of him.

“Jacob,” Sasha said with a mocking little bow. “I found your lady friend.”

“Lady friend?” Maggie propped on hand on her hip and glared down at him.

Seated on a low couch, Jacob felt at a little disadvantage. He was unaccustomed to people towering over him, especially when they had a very unhappy frown on their face.

Maggie gave Sasha a pointed look before making a shooing motion with her hands. “You performed your little task, now beat it.”

The disgruntled look on Sasha’s face wasn’t a sight Jacob was likely to forget anytime soon. Jacob’s lieutenant sent a significant glance his way before retreating to the velvet rope barrier separating the VIP section from the rest of the club.

Maggie glanced around, seeming to take in the grouping of couches, the private bar, and the lack of any other patrons in sight. Then she snorted. “You’ve got the place to yourself tonight, hmm, Mr. VIP?”

“It seemed prudent,” Jacob ventured.

“Oh yes, because you’ve recently been in the news for all of your
criminal activities
!” She took a dramatic step back and put her palm on her chest. “But don’t worry. There wasn’t enough evidence to indict so that probably means it’s all just trumped up charges the cops used to harass you. Right?”

“Actually, no.” Jacob had no idea if he was taking the right tactic here or not. “A lack of evidence does not mean a lack of criminal activities.”

“So that’s supposed to make me feel
better
?” she shouted. “What the hell, Jacob? You couldn’t have mentioned to me that night what you do for a living?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re the one who was going on and on about wanting a one-night stand. Do you really think people are particularly honest about themselves in that situation?”

“Well I was!”

Jacob got to his feet and captured her hands. “I know, and that is what made you a singular standout to me. Nobody has ever been that honest with me before. It absolutely boggled my mind.”

“Honest?” She looked confused. “I didn’t even tell you my last name.”

“But you told me every single thought that went through you mind.” Jacob laughed at the memory. “You detailed all of your apprehensions about one-night stand protocol. You expressed to me exactly what you wanted in and out of the bed, and I loved every single second.”

“Oh.”

Jacob caressed her cheek. “I’m sorry if you feel I lied to you.”

“I kept waiting for you to contact me.” Two lines appeared between her brows. “When you didn’t I decided you found another piece of tail to chase.”

“First,” he began dryly. “You’re not a piece of tail. Second, I didn’t want to inadvertently drag you into this bullshit with the police.”

“Appreciated, really.” Her tone dripped sarcasm. She pulled her hands out of his and lifted her palms to her cheeks. “I should really be going.”

“Why? You just got here.”

“I know,” she said with a bob of her head. “But now it seems like a really bad idea.”

“Why?” Jacob was willing to do just about anything to convince her to stay the night with him.

“Well, to be frank,” she began ruefully. “I’m really horny lately and trying to make good decisions when I’m horny is pretty much a failing proposition.”

Jacob nearly choked on the laugh that wanted to burst forth. “Is this where you tell me that you’re usually not this bold, but you’ve been drinking?”

“Nope, I’m totally sober. The only thing I’ve had is ginger ale.” She moved away from him toward the bar. “And I would actually like another one. I’m so damn thirsty!”

Jacob signaled the bartender. The man flipped a glass right side up and used the soda wand to fill it with fizzy ginger ale. Maggie grabbed the drink and swallowed the whole thing in one long pull. She slammed it back down on the bar and gestured for another.

Jacob couldn’t help but feel as if there was something a little off about Maggie tonight. Although he barely knew the woman so he might be completely off base. Still, he had the urge to take her back to his place and bundle her up in safety until everything was better.

“Maggie,” he said quietly. “Please spend the night with me.”

“At the Plaza?” She turned around, a fresh drink in her hand.

“No.” He shook his head. “I want you to come to my place.”

“If you have your own place in the city, why would you get a suite at the Plaza?” Her brow knitted briefly, and then understanding smoothed the frown away. “Oh, business. Never mind.”

“So, will you spend the night with me?” he pressed.

She took a drink from her glass. “I really shouldn’t, you know. I’m going to do something I’ll regret.”

“Because you’re horny?” he guessed.

“Yep.”

Jacob’s cock was already on board with that idea. “Then maybe I should help you with that little problem so that you can go back to clearheaded thinking.”

“Wow.” She appeared to be suppressing a huge grin. “That’s good. Really. Public service sex. You might be onto something there.”

He shrugged. “Just trying to help.”

“Well how can I say no to that?” She set her empty glass back on the bar. “I suppose we’d better find a back way out though. Courtney is going to murder me when she finds out, and I’d rather put that off.”

Jacob took the hand she offered. “No problem. Knowing all of the exits is a kind of occupational necessity for me.”

“Don’t remind me.”

***

Maggie paced in front of the French doors leading to a wide terrace outside the living room of Jacob’s penthouse apartment. She held her phone in her hand. Deciding what to text Courtney in order to keep her friend from calling the cops was a real pain in the ass.

“Can’t you just tell her to mind her own business?” Jacob suggested.

Maggie swung around and gave him an open mouthed look of surprise. “Wow. You really
are
a mafia boss, aren’t you?”

“Why do you say that?”

Maggie texted a few sentences and sent them off to Courtney, hoping they were the magic combination. “Because you’re used to people just doing what you say.”

“I suppose I am.” He stood at the counter, pouring her yet another ginger ale.

She took the offered glass. “Thank you.”

“So, not much of a drinker are you?”

“No.” She thought about the real Maggie Morrison. “Not a drinker, a partier, or pretty much anything interesting.”

“That’s not true,” Jacob argued. “I find you very interesting.”

“How?”

He gestured to her dress. “At the moment I’m completely preoccupied wondering what color underwear you have on.”

Maggie made a show of pulling out the front of her dress to take a look at her cleavage. She might have intentionally flashed him a little as well. “It’s blue,” she assured him.

“Lacy?”

“Plain.”

“I think I’d have to see it to judge for myself whether or not it’s plain,” he told her authoritatively.

Maggie couldn’t help but be charmed by his unusual sense of humor. Were all crime lords this comfortable to be around? In fact, she had the most insane desire to be playful with him. Something about Jacob made her feel brave and sexy. It was a heady combination she wasn’t quite used to yet.

She set her cell phone on the counter and grabbed the hem of her dress. Pulling it up and over her head, she tossed it onto the back of his couch. The cool air inside the room whispered over her skin, raising gooseflesh.

“Not plain,” Jacob told her appreciatively. “In fact there is nothing plain about you, Maggie.”

He moved closer, until she could feel every exhalation of his breath on her skin. Using his fingers, he traced the ridge of her collarbone before following the line of her sternum down to where it disappeared between her breasts. She felt her nipples tightening beneath the satin cups of her bra. A corresponding surge of wetness between her legs nearly made her raw with sexual need.

Stepping back, she deliberately put some distance between them. She felt ten kinds of ridiculous wandering around his place in her bra, panties, and kitten heels. But she also felt wanton. And when she glanced over her shoulder she saw that he was tracking her every move with his gaze.

“Since I wasn’t offered a tour,” she told him saucily, “I think I’ll help myself.”

Jacob was silent, but he followed the path she chose through his darkened apartment. Maggie couldn’t help but notice the art on the walls and the tidy appearance of everything. Jacob was nothing like she would have imagined a crime lord to be. There were no flunkies hovering about, though she knew there had to be guards somewhere. No blood on the floor, beatings taking place behind closed doors, or rival gangs doing drive-by shootings. Of course, it would have been difficult to arrange a drive-by shooting when the victim lived in a thirty-fifth floor penthouse.