Sergei

  I didn't buy that for one second. Sure, Yuri's playboy reputation had been legendary, but that was before Lena. He had never strayed from her. A couple didn't survive their near death experience without forming an unbreakable bond. The waitresses around here could walk around naked and Yuri wouldn't give them a second glance.

  Thinking of Lena hidden away in her stall, I realized Lidia had just made an enemy she didn't need. "Honey, I think you should get back to work before you make this situation worse for yourself."

  "And I think you should get real," Lidia snapped. "Do you really think you have a future with Sergei?" She guffawed. "Look at you. Once the exotic appeal wears off, he's going to get tired of fucking a fat girl every night."

  Irritated, I asked, "Is that all you've got? You sure you don't want to make fun of my darker skin too? No? Just fat jokes. Well, come on. Start throwing those darts my way. I'm a big girl. I can take them."

  She seemed to deflate at the realization that she couldn't bait me. Full-on nasty now, she sneered, "You'll just embarrass him. What do you think his mother will say when she meets you? She'll never approve of someone like you with her son. No, he needs a woman he can be proud of on his arm."

  Someone like you? What the hell did that mean? Something told me she wasn't talking about my plus-sized figure but rather my skin color. It was the first time in years that anyone had ever made such an ignorant remark toward me. Honestly, I was taken aback by the comment.

  Before I could figure out how to respond, a stall door opened, and Lena revealed herself to Lidia. The other woman's jaw slackened as the realization of the shit she had just stepped in finally hit.

  Always cool and calm, Lena strode to the sink and started to wash her hands. "A woman he can be proud of, huh? You mean, like, oh, a successful small business owner who took the number one spot on Houston's Thirty Entrepreneurs Under Thirty list?"

  When Lidia didn't answer, Lena flicked her fingers in the sink and reached for some towels. "Or maybe you mean a woman who got into one of the most prestigious fashion design programs in the world and studied abroad in Paris and Milan. How about a woman who designs couture wedding gowns that retail for thousands of dollars apiece and have been included in bridal magazines with hundreds of thousands of subscribers?"

  Lidia swallowed nervously. "Well—."

  "No. No. Wait." Lena held up her hand and smiled evilly. "Let me guess. You mean a woman on the wrong side of thirty who still waits tables for a living while hoping some rich man will swoop in and save her from that shitty paycheck-to-paycheck life she's living, right?"

  I couldn't believe Lena had gone right for the jugular like that. Even though Lidia had been outrageously bad to me, I didn't think it was right for Lena to attack her on the same level. Was this why they used to call her the Dragon Lady? In all the time I had known her, she had never been so vicious.

  "My friend over there is too sweet and classy to lower herself to your level, but, sweetheart, I'm not afraid to get dirty down here in the gutter with you." Lena grabbed my purse and slapped it into my hand. "Let's go, Bianca."

  Tugging me along behind her, she glanced at Lidia. "You might want to look at the want ads in the morning. I have a feeling your time at Samovar is about to end."

  Out in the hallway, we ran right into Sergei. He had a to-go bag dangling from one hand and his blazer in the other. He stepped close and draped his jacket around my shoulders. The still warm fabric held his scent, and I pulled it tighter around my body.

  The door behind us swung open and Lidia marched out of the bathroom. Dabbing at her face, she shot a pitiful look our way before scuttling away on her clacking high heels. I had to give her credit. The woman knew how to work a crowd.

  "Bianca, what did you do?" Sergei stared down at me, his eyes hard and his brow furrowed. "Did you get her fired?"

  "That's the first thing you ask me?" I gaped up at him in utter disbelief. "That nut ruined my dress, and you're worried about what I did?"

  "Your dress can be replaced. It's not so simple to find a new job."

  "Then maybe she shouldn't go around throwing glasses of wine at the people she depends on for tips!"

  "It was an accident!"

  "You must have taken one too many hits to the head. I think you're going blind. There was no way on God's green earth that this," I gestured to my stained dress, "was an accident."

  "Why would she risk her job like that? You don't know her. She's a good person. She wouldn't do that."

  "You're right. I don’t know her." Shaking my head, I peeled off his blazer and pushed it back into his hands. "Clearly I don't know you either."

  Spinning on my heel, I clutched my purse tightly in my hand and left him there in the hallway with Lena who, by the sounds of it, was tearing into him. Feeling numb and completely thrown by the strange turn our night had taken, I walked out of the restaurant and headed down the sidewalk. I didn't know where the hell I was going. I just knew that I had to keep moving.

  Away from Sergei.

  Chapter Twelve

  "What is wrong with you?"

  Sergei frowned at Lena Cruz. "What did you say to Lidia in there?"

  "What did I say?" Lena chortled loudly. "You should be asking me what your precious Lidochka said to Bianca."

  He silently cursed himself for letting that stupid pet name slip. It didn't mean anything, but obviously Bianca thought it did. "What did Lidia say to Bianca?"

  "Well, let's see." Lena held up her hand and began ticking off points on her manicured fingers. "She called Bianca fat. She insinuated that you're only with Bianca because you're satisfying some weird curiosity about black girls. Oh—and there was the part about your mom hating Bianca because of her brown skin."

  Taken aback, Sergei started to protest that Lidia would never say anything like that, but the look on Lena's face stopped him. "I've known her for years. She has never said anything like that to me. She's not racist—and neither is my mother," he added with a tinge of anger.

  "Why the hell are you telling me this?" Lena motioned toward the lobby. "Tell Bianca. She's the one who had to fend off your psycho ex-girlfriend. She's the one who came out here expecting you to comfort her but got an earful about making that whacko cry instead. And, FYI, Sergei, I'm the one who made her cry. Bianca—for reasons I will never understand—let her talk trash and didn't say one ugly thing back."

  Shit. Shit!

  Leaving Lena without another word, Sergei hurried to catch up with Bianca. He scanned the lobby but didn't find her. Had she gone outside? Pushing his way through the crowd, he made it onto the sidewalk. Thankful for his uncommon height, he searched both ends of the street for her.

  Found you!

  His gaze fixed on the back of her gold dress, Sergei raced toward her, carefully sidestepping the slower moving people packed onto the sidewalk. When he was close enough, he called out to her. "Bianca! Please. Stop!"

  To his surprise, she actually did. She pivoted to face him. Thankfully, she wasn't crying, but the furious expression on her face scared him. He had really fucked it up this time.

  Putting his hands on her shoulders, he tried to caress her neck, but she jerked her head to the side. Gulping down the pain that her rejection caused, he reminded himself that he deserved it. Hadn't he just done the same to her?

  "I'm sorry, Bianca."

  "I don't care. Just take me home. Now."

  The urge to hash this out was strong, but he didn't think it was something that should be done on a public sidewalk. He started to slide his hand to her back to guide her back to his SUV, but she stepped forward and stopped him. Accepting her cold behavior, Sergei walked at her side until they reached the parking garage. She let him unlock her door but smacked aside the hand he offered to help her climb up onto the front seat.

  Trying not to let it get to him, he let her be. Some of the most excruciatingly tense minutes of his life occurred during the ride back to her house. He couldn't believe he had been so stupid. Maybe Bianca
was right. Maybe he had taken too many hits to the head.

  "How many other waitresses at Samovar have you dated?"

  Sergei winced but answered truthfully. "Three including Lidia."

  "I see."

  "They weren't long-term, Bianca. It was two or three dates tops."

  "Did you sleep with them?"

  "Yes." Fearing it would come out eventually, he reluctantly confessed, "Two of them at the same time."

  Bianca made a choking sound next to him. "Are you serious?"

  "Yes." He refused to be made to feel bad about that. "We were all consenting adults. There's nothing wrong with what we did."

  "If you say so…"

  "You knew I had a life before you, Bianca. I've accepted that you had boyfriends before me. Hell—one of them handcuffed me the other night."

  "I've had boyfriends, yes, but I didn't let two of them bang me at once."

  He cringed at the vulgar description. "It wasn't like that."

  "Whatever. You should have warned me about Lidia. I would have worn black and kept an eye on the wine glasses around me. Ugh." She made a disgusted sound. "I hope she didn't spit in my food."

  "She wouldn’t do that."

  "Oh, so she draws the line at throwing wine on guests?"

  "If that wasn't an accident, it was very stupid of her. I know the kitchen staff there. None of the runners would have let the food out of their sights long enough for her to do anything like that to it."

  "If you say so…"

  "Look," he said with a heavy sigh, "I was wrong about Lidia, okay? I didn't think she was like that. I never saw that side of her when we were dating."

  Bianca made a frustrated noise. "Were we not sitting at the same table or something? The woman was groping you every chance she got."

  He noticed the way she hadn't mentioned Lidia's derisive snort over the dessert remark. Lidia had crossed the line with that one, and he had been planning to speak to her the next time he saw her about respecting his new relationship with Bianca. Doing it there at the table would have simply drawn more attention to a touchy subject, and that would have hurt Bianca more.

  Remembering the verbal assault Lena had described, he reached for Bianca's hand. To his surprise, she let him take it. Choosing his words carefully, he said, "Bianca, I like you just the way you are."

  "Oh, Jesus!" Bianca jerked her hand away from his. "Can we please not do this right now? Okay? No more talking."

  Despite the darkness, he could hear the pain and humiliation in her voice. If he reached out right now to swipe her face, he was certain his fingers would encounter the hot wetness of tears.

  Hating himself for making it worse, he desperately tried to think of a way to fix this. As he waited for the gate behind her house to open, it occurred to him there was only one way to make this right. He had to show her how beautiful and desirable she was to him.

  "You can just leave me here."

  "That's not happening." Sergei grabbed the to-go bag holding her untouched dessert and slid out of the front seat before she could argue with him. He marched straight to the back door and waited for her to unlock it. Unlike the front door, he didn't have keys to this one. That was a problem he would be solving in the morning.

  She stepped inside the mud room and tried to shut the door. "Good night, Sergei."

  "No." Faster and stronger, he clamped his hand along the edge of the door to stop her. "That's not happening either."

  "This is my house! If I say good night, that means good night, Sergei."

  "You can be pissed off at me as long as you like. God knows I deserve it." He carefully pushed on the door, mindful of her feet, and forced his way inside the house. "But you still have a prowler who might be tied in with a bunch of racist thugs who want to hurt you. You asked for my protection, and I'm giving it."

  She actually stomped her foot like a petulant child. "You can't just do whatever you want, Sergei! This is my home!"

  "If you really want me to leave, why don't you call Kevan and have him throw me out?" Swinging the to-go bag, he flipped on the nearest light switch and started his nightly round of the doors and windows.

  "You're ridiculous! You know that?"

  "Yes."

  She still hadn't calmed down by the time he had finished his walk-through of the ground floor. Arms crossed and foot tapping, she glared at him as he made his way to the staircase. "Are you done?"

  "No." Deciding to really rile her up, he glanced over his shoulder and said, "Unless you're waiting on Kevan to appear at the door to arrest me again, I suggest you come upstairs with me."

  "What in the world makes you think I want go upstairs with you?"

  He waved the bag over his head. "I've got your dessert right here—and you've got mine hidden away under your skirt."

  She didn't come right away, but that was fine with him. Sergei placed the bag on the ottoman and stripped the bed of its extra covers and pillows, taking it down to the top and fitted sheets. He tossed a strip of condoms onto the mattress. Picking up the antique dressing mirror she kept in one corner, Sergei moved it in front of the bed and then toed off his shoes and removed his shirt and tie. He was peeling out of his pants when Bianca finally appeared in the doorway.

  With a loud huff, she said, "You can't fix everything with sex, Sergei."

  "Not everything," he agreed, "but this? Yes."

  "And what is this?"

  Clad in only his boxer-briefs, he held out his hand. "Come here, Bianca."

  She hesitated only a moment before crossing the floor. Somewhere along the way, she had removed her shoes so her footsteps were muffled and nearly silent. She frowned at the mirror he had moved. "Why is that here?"

  Grasping her hand, he dragged her close and threaded his fingers through her hair. He bent down and nuzzled her neck before peppering soft kisses on her silky skin. "I'm going to show you how sexy you are to me."

  "What?" Anxiety made her voice wobble.

  "You're such a strong woman, but I know you have your weak spots, Bianca. Tonight, Lidia found it, and she hurt you with it." Touching his forehead to hers, he said, "I am so sorry for that."

  She gulped loudly, no doubt choking down the pain of being bullied about her weight. "I try not to let that sort of thing hurt me, but sometimes…"

  "I know." Cupping her face, he kissed her tenderly, pressing all the love he held for her into the gentle mating of their mouths. He might not have been courageous enough to tell her how he truly felt, but that didn't mean he couldn't show her tonight.

  Breaking the kiss, he carefully turned her to face the mirror. As if unwrapping a package on Christmas morning, he took his time undressing Bianca. She stood silently as he dragged down her zipper, unhooked her bra and pushed those lacy panties down her thighs.

  Standing behind her, Sergei caressed her naked curves with his much bigger hands, all the while marveling at the pretty picture they made together. Nuzzling her neck, he nipped at her sensitive skin and whispered a promise. "By the time I'm done with you tonight, you will never again doubt how sexy and beautiful you are."

  *

  Oh sweet Lord.

  With my legs trembling and my insides wobbling tremulously, I met Sergei's undeniably needful gaze in the mirror's reflection. Although still wounded by Lidia's attack, I couldn't deny what I saw right in front of me. Sergei moved his hands over my body like a sculptor admiring his finest work. He peered at me as if he couldn't get enough of me.

  Leaving me just long enough to retrieve the bag holding my dessert, Sergei returned to me and produced a small plastic box. He popped open the lid and let me see the triangle-shaped slice dotted with cherries and smothered in a light, fluffy cream. What was he planning to do?

  He knelt in front of me and put the box on the bed behind me, just within his reach. Trailing his finger through the whipped cream, he used the blob he had gathered to paint my nipple. The cold cream made the peak pucker tightly. The starkly white cream looked so bright against my dar
ker skin. Mouth agape with the shock of being adorned with my dessert, I stared at Sergei in disbelief. "What are you doing?"

  "I'm having my dessert."

  "But—oh!" I rose up on tiptoes as Sergei flicked his tongue against my nipple. He suckled my breast and licked away all traces of the cream. Heavy and aching, my breasts responded to his lightest touch. He pinched my damp nipple while painting the other one with more of the fluffy white concoction.

  Sliding my fingers through his hair, I let him use me as his dessert plate, smearing my body with dabs of the whipped cream and licking and sucking it from my skin. When he tired of that sensual play, he gathered one final dollop on his finger and pushed it between my lips. "Suck it clean, Bianca."

  I did as ordered, sucking hard on his rough, thick finger all the while imagining another thick, long part of him that I wanted to put in my mouth. He must have seen the flash of interest because he chuckled and placed a noisy kiss on my belly. "Soon, milaya moya, but you first."

  Setting aside the dessert, he dragged me onto the bed and climbed up behind me. He maneuvered me into a kneeling position, grasping my inner thighs and pushing them apart. Cupping my pussy in his big hand, Sergei made sure I was watching him in the mirror. He opened the petals of my sex like a gardener coaxing apart some delicate hothouse blossom.

  Brushing his lips across the shell of my ear, he murmured huskily, "You have the sweetest pussy I've ever tasted."

  "Oh God." I drew in a shaky breath and tried to slow down my racing heart.

  "Look at how pink you are," he said and showed me exactly what he was talking about as he glided his finger through the shiny nectar leaking from my core. "And so fucking wet." He bit down on my neck, marking me as his. "I can't wait to get my tongue right here again."

  His long finger slipped inside me. My passage fluttered around him, gripping at his finger while I bucked my hips. "Sergei…"

  "I've been with a lot of women, Bianca." He wasn't saying it to brag or hurt me. He seemed to be making a point. "You're the first one that ever made me so hard that I ached. You're the only one who ever tormented my dreams." He slid another finger inside me and started to thrust up into my slick heat. "This pussy is the only one I want."