Sergei (11 page)

"It sounds like you might be more focused on
what
he is instead of
who
he is."

"Maybe."

"You like him?"

There was no point in denying what she could see. "Yes."

"Maybe it's a little more than just liking him?"

"Maybe." I wasn't ready to commit to anything else. "He's…tenacious. I'm honestly surprised he's kept after me for so long. I thought for sure he'd find someone better or—"

"Better?" Mama puffed right up. "And who in the world is better than my baby girl?"

"You know what I mean, Mama."

"No, I don't. You're pretty, smart, successful and talented. Show me another woman who can design dresses, run a business, belt out gospel music and take care of her mother like you do."

"Well…"

"There's no
well
to it, honey. There's a reason this boy has been tenacious. He knows a woman worth catching when he sees one."

I ran my finger along the edge of the desk. "How do I know if I'm ready to be caught?"

She sat forward and held my gaze. "Is that what all this is? Is that why you never get serious with any of these nice boys? Are you afraid of commitment?"

"It's not commitment that scares me. I want what you and Daddy had."

"But you're afraid of being left behind," she guessed.

As usual, she had hit the nail right on the head. Every man I had ever loved had been taken from me. The idea of giving my heart to any man scared the daylights out of me. "I watched what it did to you after Daddy was killed by that drunk."

Mama released a long, slow exhale. "Losing your father was terrible. The pain was indescribable." She grasped my hand. "But everything before that? Oh, honey, you don't want to miss out on all that love and happiness. If my life has taught me anything, it's that I have to live every day to the fullest." She touched my cheek. "No regrets, baby girl."

She had never steered me wrong with her advice, but I didn't know if I was ready to take it yet.

"This boy Sergei?"

"Yes?"

"He's a gangster?"

"He seems to have some legitimate business interests, and I guess as far as his possible criminal ties go, he's mostly above board but…"

"Is that all he wants out of life?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I get the feeling he wants something else, something more."

"Then I suppose you have to make a decision about whether you're willing to wait for him to make the changes you need."

She was right. After last night, though, it wasn't going to be easy to break it off with him. That wasn't simply the afterglow from all the fantastic sex we'd had talking either. I recognized that the two of us shared a connection that was impossible to ignore. There was so much possibility in our fledgling relationship if I was brave enough to give it a chance and practical enough to accept who and what he was
right now
and not what he might be in a year or two or three.

The urge to call Vivian was strong. If anyone could help me sort out my conflicted feelings toward Sergei it was her, but the Russian behemoth who had ensnared me in his love trap was always guarding her. How in the world could I finagle some privacy with Vivian?

Perplexed by that little quandary, I took my mother back to her apartment and made sure she had everything she needed for the evening. I waited for her nurse to come by to check in with her before leaving. Even though I knew she was in extremely capable hands and happy in her current living situation, it still saddened me to walk away from her.

Earlier that morning, Sergei had shaken my belief that this was best for her. In truth, I had shared his distaste for the arrangement when it began, but Mama had convinced me that this was what she wanted. I had been so skeptical those first few weeks, but then I had noticed that she seemed more relaxed and at ease with a professional staff at her beck and call. I had finally understood that she needed and wanted that safety net.

I decided to give Sergei a good whack the next time I saw him for making me feel guilty about Mama's living arrangement. Even as I considered where to thump him, I couldn't shake my sympathy for his situation. He had been less than forthcoming about the reason he'd had to leave Russia in a hurry, but I didn't need all the details to see how badly he missed his mother and brother.

But what had happened over there? Was it something really bad? It must have been, right? Why else would he have left his homeland in a rush? And what was all that business about having only one brother now?

I wanted answers. It would have been only too easy to call Vivian. She would have told me anything I wanted to know, but I wanted to hear the story from Sergei. I needed to sit across from him and stare into his eyes as he came clean about his past. I didn't think he would lie to me, but I had to concede that I didn't really know him well enough to make that call.

But that wasn't exactly true, was it? Maybe I didn't know every single minute detail of his life but I
knew
him. It was almost a sixth sense that allowed me to read him in the same ways he seemed to be able to read me. Were we on the same wavelength because we had both survived something dark and terrible?

Years ago, before anything even remotely romantic had occurred between them, Vivian had tried to explain the connection she shared with Nikolai. I hadn't understood their intense bond then any more than I truly understood it now. That they loved each other was plain enough to anyone who saw them, but they seemed to be bonded on a nearly soulful level.

Even though I worked in the wedding industry, I had always scoffed at the idea of soul mates and considered the idea fantastic and fanciful. Watching Nikolai and Vivian together had cured me of those doubts. Some people were just meant to be together. Some couples simply couldn't be broken apart, no matter what the world threw at them.

I didn't dare hope that something so incredibly wonderful awaited me. After the long line of ho-hum dates and relationships that fizzled after a few months, I wasn't exactly a prime candidate for an epic love story. I had all but given up on the prospect of meeting a man who made me ache with desire or throb with need.

Until Sergei…

That night at Faze, when he'd stood watching me from the corner of the VIP section with those outrageously strong arms of his crossed in front of his broad chest, I had tingled with the most deliciously sinful awareness of him. No man had ever looked at me like that. He looked at me as if he wanted to just strip me naked and worship every last inch of my body.

And he had done exactly that last night, hadn't he? Sergei didn’t need to make elaborate speeches to tell me what he felt about me. He had shown me his feelings in a way that had left me shuddering with ecstasy and feeling beautiful and special.

Okay. So, kicking down my door was a bit over the top, but I understood why he had done it. Realizing he was
that
protective of me had thrown me for a loop. He had been willing to do anything to get to me when he thought I was in trouble. After so many years of being independent and on my own, there was something awfully enticing about having such a strong, protective man in my life. Without a shadow of a doubt, I knew I could count on Sergei for anything.

I was still thinking about the possibilities when I turned down the narrow alley that provided access to the rear of my property. The gate noisily creaked open, reminding me I probably needed to have someone out here to service it, and I pulled onto the half-moon gravel drive. Eventually, I hoped to be able to use the carriage house as a garage but the dilapidated structure needed a lot of work.

"When was the last time the slide chain on that gate was greased?"

Sergei's deep voice startled me as I stepped out of my car. Jumping, I spun around and found him standing next to the ramshackle carriage house. Hand on my chest, I grouched at him. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

He offered an apologetic smile. "
Prostite
. Sorry," he added quickly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

I closed my car door with a bump of my hip and listened for the locks to engage. "What are you doing out here anyway?"

"I was taking a look at this structure. It's in terrible shape, Bianca."

"I know. I had a couple of contractors who do historical renovations come out here to take a look at it, but most of them suggested I salvage whatever I can and then tear it down. Only one guy had a plan for fixing it up, but his bid was so low I had doubts he could finish the job on budget."

Sergei made that low, grunting noise that seemed to accompany anything he found distasteful. "He was probably trying to cheat you. He'd have gotten halfway done, made your life miserable and then asked for more money than even your highest bidder."

"I don't know about that." He shot me a dubious look. "No, really. Marcus—the contractor—said he grew up around here and wanted to see this place restored to the way it was when he was a kid."

"That sounds like a bullshit story to soften you up and make you sign a contract with him so he could rip you off."

"Wow!" I said with an exaggerated huff. "Aren't you just grizzly this evening?"

Sergei winced and rubbed the back of his neck. The movement stretched his black T-shirt tight across his broad chest. The flexing of the crazy huge muscles in his arms made me feel a bit woozy. "I'm sorry, Bianca."

Sensing something was wrong, I closed the distance between us and reached for his hand. I interlaced our fingers and stared up at my big, sexy giant. "What's up with you?"

"It's been a long day for me. I had to take care of something ugly."

I swallowed. "Are we ever going to talk about what you do? About what you are?"

His fingers tightened around mine. "I think you know what I am and what I do."

"I don't know specifics."

"And you won't," he warned. "I will not involve in you in that part of my life."

"Don't you think I deserve to know what I'm getting into if—"

"If?" He seized on the word. "Am I still on probation with you?"

"I don't know, Sergei. You can't stand here and tell me that you had to do something ugly today and then refuse to give me details. What I'm imagining is probably a thousand times worse."

"What are you imagining?" When I didn't answer, he prompted me with that rumbling voice of his. "Bianca, what do you think I do all day?"

"I know that you guard Vivian." After some hesitation, I added, "I've heard that you fight for money."

"I do."

"And that you maybe, you know, beat people up sometimes."

"There's no maybe to it, Bianca. When someone steps out of line, I'm the one who persuades them to get back into formation."

"By hitting them?"

"I don't have to hit them that often."

Sizing him up, I figured that was probably true. If Sergei walked through my door and I was on the bad side of his boss, I'd toe the company line pretty damned quick. "Do you like doing that?"

He visibly flinched, his cheeks tightening and his lips pursing. "Do you really believe that I enjoy hurting people?"

I shook my head. "But why do it?"

His wide shoulders bounced. "What the hell else could I do? When I came here, I had very few choices, Bianca. I worked at the Samovar as a dishwasher until Nikolai saw me fighting. He sent me to Ivan to be trained, and eventually I was brought in as his enforcer. This wasn't the life I wanted, but there was no other choice for me."

"I don't believe that. There are always choices."

His jaw tensed as he rubbed his thumb across my knuckles. "You're right. I could have taken a different path, but I didn't. This is where I am right now, Bianca. If you want to be with me, this is where we start our journey."

"Where are we headed?"

He gulped, his Adam's apple sliding up and down as he carefully chose his words. "I have a destination in mind…and it takes us far away from this point to some place much better. To a place where you could be as proud of me as I am of you."

His sweet compliment touched me. The promise of what we might have if I just had a little faith in him tempted me a great deal. I wanted to believe that Sergei could find a way to deftly extract himself from the mobbed-up life he led.

My thoughts turned to Erin and Ivan. From what Vivian had told me, Ivan had been in a spot almost identical to Sergei's once. He had gotten out and made something of himself, becoming hugely successful and wealthy. If it had been done before, perhaps Sergei could follow in Ivan's footsteps.

Grasping the front of Sergei's shirt, just above his belt, I dragged him down for a kiss. Before our lips met, I caught a whiff of cheap, nasty perfume. It was the sort of alcohol-tinged, too heavy on the musk drugstore concoction that the girls I went to high school with used to wear. I had an idea of what sort of women might still wear it, and I wasn't pleased.

Recoiling from the stink of it, I stepped back and let go of his shirt. That's when I noticed the glitter dusting the front of his shirt and now stuck to my palm. Holding up my hand, I demanded angrily, "What the hell is this, Sergei?"