I adjusted my own tailored coat with my warm gloves. Though the sun was out, the air was chilly. Fall in Russia had a definite bite. "I wish there was something I could do to help." I'd edited Kovalev's sparse Wikipedia entry, adding "allegedly" everywhere and implementing a "Contributions to Charity" section.
How had the syndicate lived without me all this time?
Strangely, there was no mention of Aleksandr Sevastyan anywhere online. There was a prominent family in Russia with the same last name, but they were in legitimate commerce and even politics.
"You are helping." Filip chucked me under the chin. "You make the old man happy. Each day you two grow closer. It's obvious to everyone. Let the menfolk take care of this."
I stiffened, then realized he was kidding. He was the most modern-minded guy here, and he loved to yank my chain.
"You're ravishing when you're all feminine and piqued." He tilted his head. "You know, you'd be amazing blackmail bait. That'd be one way to join the family business, Cuz."
"Are you trying to distract me?"
With his angelic smile, he asked, "Is it working?" He reached forward to grasp my ponytail, twirling the end around his forefinger. Just when I was about to step away, he abruptly dropped his hand. He had a knack for sensing how far he could push with the flirting.
He'd been having to pull back more and more--because he was always flirting. At times Filip's behavior made me wonder if he was aware of those plighted rules. I could swear there was an almost desperate feel to his attentions--which didn't fit with, well, everything about him. "There's nothing you can tell me?"
"Hey, I just work on the books. Sevastyan doesn't allow me inside the inner circle."
"Me neither." We were outsiders looking in.
When Filip brushed his hand over his tired face, I noticed that his watch was gone. Like Paxan and Sevastyan, he'd had an expensive wristwatch, but I hadn't seen it in a couple of days. I narrowed my gaze. "Something's going on with you." I looked into those guileless gray eyes. Too guileless?
"Nothing's going on, Cuz."
"Then where's your watch?" I demanded before I could bite my tongue. Hadn't I decided to eighty-six the overanalyzing? The prejudgment of men? Yes, but, damn it, I'd been getting some strong gambler vibes off him. Was his car really still in the shop after two weeks?
He averted his gaze as he said, "Went swimming with it the other day."
"Let me guess. It's in the shop too?" No watch: pawned? No car: hocked?
Was my cousin a gambler in deep?
"In the shop. You got it."
I peered up at him. He didn't seem to be worried about it whatsoever, so I supposed I had enough on my plate without fretting over my cousin's foibles. "You'd let me know if I could do anything?"
"Of course. You're a good egg, Cuz. You know that, huh?"
The groom brought out our mounts then. I fell head over heels for my mare all over again. With her glossy gray coat and black stockings, Alizay was stunning. The posh tack just highlighted her lines. Though western riding was preferred in Nebraska, I'd taken English riding lessons, and was thankful for it now.
I gazed into her lustrous eyes, seeing my own adoring reflection. Okay, maybe I did like money, if only for the horses it could buy.
When the groom brought out a third mount, I asked Filip, "Are you expecting someone?" I frowned to see a rifle stowed in a saddle holster.
Filip scowled, muttering, "Bloody Siberian."
As if summoned, Sevastyan entered the stables, his towering body briefly shadowed as he strode into the aisle. He wore black riding pants of a modern cut and a sharp all-weather athletic jacket that he could just as easily have worn to play rugby.
Filip's style: Barneys high fashion. Sevastyan's? Bespoke--and moneyed.
His gloves and clothes covered any tattoos, but that slim scar down his lips and the hardness of his features belied any gentlemanly appearance.
As he approached, he moved like an athlete; I could see the powerful muscles in his legs flexing with each of his steps, reminding me of when his thighs had quaked around my ears as I'd swallowed him down. . . .
Focus, Natalie. "Are you going with us?" I asked him, flushing at how throaty my voice sounded.
Sevastyan told Filip, "Kovalev wants to see you."
"Just taking Natalie out for a ride," he said smoothly. "I'll catch him later this after--"
"Now."
Filip's lips thinned. "Nat, let's go back to the house. We can come back for our ride when I'm done."
What if the weather didn't hold? I didn't bother hiding my disappointment.
Sevastyan said, "I'm taking her."
Why would he offer to be alone with me? Maybe he'd mastered his attraction to me, and was now in no danger of plighting. But why was he forgoing work? Had the difficulties been resolved?
Curiosity, my kryptonite, had me jonesing for answers.
The tension between the two men seethed. "You? Taking little sis out for a ride? How brotherly. But she's not interested." To me, Filip said, "Come, Natalie."
I stiffened, not liking his tone at all. Strange, since I'd loved when Sevastyan had ordered me around in bed. Or in a maid's closet.
Even after everything, I . . . missed the man. What harm could come from one little ride? I told Filip, "I've been waiting for this for two weeks."
He gazed from Sevastyan to me and back. In a disbelieving tone, he said, "You want to go--with him?"
Sevastyan bit out the words, "Ona so mnoi." She is with me.
Comprehension seemed to dawn in Filip's expression. Then a disturbing flash of anger surfaced on his face, reddening his cheeks. He turned that look of wrath on me. "Are you? With him?"
His words were rife with undercurrents that I found difficult to accept. Because right now, it seemed like the guy who'd ignored me for weeks and the guy whose face could make angels weep were in a pissing contest.
Over me.
"I just want to go riding, Filip."
He appeared to be grinding his molars to dust. Finally he told me, "I'll be waiting for you back at the house." With a black look at Sevastyan, he strode off.
Disquieted, I glanced up at Sevastyan, but his piercing gaze was trained on Filip's back. I said, "Do you want to tell me what's going on between you?"
"Nyet." That word--when spoken by him and addressed to me--might as well be translated: Dead end, Natalie.
"Why are you taking time off work? Has the issue with Travkin been resolved?"
He shook his head, repeating, "Nyet."
Dead end. He'd tell me no more--because I wasn't a member of the inner circle.
He brushed his gloved hand down the neck of his mount. "You wanted to go riding, so I'm taking you."
The stallion looked high-strung, and Sevastyan didn't strike me as a natural rider. Recipe for disaster? "Have you done a lot of riding?"
"Unfortunately, work precludes it."
"We don't have to go."
In answer, he moved behind me to help me into Alizay's saddle.
"Oh. Okay." Had he let his hands linger on my waist?
Then I watched, enthralled, as Sevastyan hoisted his muscular frame into his own saddle and brought his horse around.
My fears had been unfounded. Though he'd been plucked from the streets in his teens, he rode like he'd been raised in the saddle, with an arrogance that only came from excellence.
Again, the contradictions in this man were fascinating. As we set out, I stared at him with such absorption that I barely registered what a smooth ride Alizay was.
But how could I not stare? He was captivating, with the bright fall sun making his jet-black hair gleam. His physique when riding was a sight to behold.
A body like that was good for two things that started with f. And fighting was the other one.
Dragging my gaze from Sevastyan, I surveyed the breathtaking estate. A cool breeze finagled stray leaves from the birches surrounding the stables.
In comfortable silence, w
e rode, and as we gained distance from the manicured gardens and the tennis court, the guest houses and the garage, we saw more wildlife. A fox, two martens, numerous speckled squirrels.
When we crossed a babbling stream, Alizay gave a restless snort. Though I'd never ridden such a fine horse, I could tell she wasn't satisfied with this mild walk. I patted her neck. "This one's hungry for more." I bit the inside of my cheek; could that have sounded more suggestive? Wow, I might as well have pointed at my crotch as I said that.
"Then let's give her more." Sevastyan lightly swatted Alizay on the rump, sending her speeding forward.
He quickly caught up, and we galloped over what seemed like miles, the bracing air filling my lungs, invigorating me. I was unable to contain my laughter, and even Sevastyan's lips curled, almost a smile. Oh, yeah, if he ever did hit me with a real smile, I'd tumble off the back of this horse.
I caught myself wondering what it would be like if he were mine. In some mad moments, I could envision us together. It'd never be dull.
No, it'd be dark. And deep. I swallowed. In any case, the ball was no longer in my court. I couldn't have made it clearer to him how I felt, and he'd made no moves.
Until now? Or was this a platonic outing? He'd told Filip that I was with him. For the duration of this ride? For longer?
Our mounts matched paces, drawing even closer as we headed toward a distant birch forest. Once we'd reached that thick grove, we slowed to a walk. I loved watching the leaves flutter all around us, caught on the breeze like little kites. "This place is amazing."
"I used to explore here as a boy."
"It must've been an incredible place for a kid." Especially compared to what he'd known before then. Had he recuperated from that beating here? Gone from abject poverty to this wonderland of plenty?
From having no one to having a father in Kovalev?
"Paxan wanted me to feel that this was my home, so he made me read all about it." Gauzy light streamed through branches, hitting Sevastyan's face, his eyes. The gold was so vivid, it was like the sun had rendered them aglow from within. Spellbinding . . .
When I found my voice again, I said, "Tell me some of the things you learned."
In his gruff way, Sevastyan began describing the construction and renovation of Berezka. But as he talked about the people and the lands, he grew more animated, his passion for this place clear.
He caught me staring at him.
"What?" Color tinged those cheekbones.
Since learning he'd been a prizefighter, I'd longed to touch his face. Since Paxan had told me of his beating as a boy, I'd yearned to kiss this fighter from forehead to chin. "You adore it here."
He shrugged, but I could tell how proud he was. "Don't you?" When I nodded easily, he said, "Then why haven't you decided to stay?"
"It's a big decision. Living in a foreign country, changing schools." I knew nothing would make Paxan happier, and I wanted to give that to him. But not at the expense of my own happiness. "Though you might not think I liked my old life, I did. I even liked working, just as you clearly do. I don't want to say I'm a hayseed or anything, but I enjoy a simple life." We'd slowed to a stop. "Enough about me. Why don't you tell me about how you came to be here?" Paxan had said Sevastyan might confide in me.
He studied my face. "Your father told you my history."
"Only how he first met you. You could tell me more." If Sevastyan and I could continue like this, talking, getting to know each other, would I fall for him?
Could he fall for me?
"I'm a good listener," I said.
Our gazes met. He parted his lips to speak. Then ire blazed in his expression. "Why did you invite Filip to ride with you?"
I was taken aback. "Why wouldn't I have?"
"You could have asked me." He gazed past me as he said, "Unless you specifically wanted time with him away from everyone else."
I rolled my eyes. "If I did, then that would be none of your business. You told me there is no us, remember? Maybe I took your words to heart."
"Did you take my warning to heart as well? I told you to be wary of him."
Sevastyan's anger was sparking my own. "And he told me the same thing--about you."
"Filip has a lot of success with women. That doesn't mean he's worthy of it."
"I get along with him. He doesn't ignore me, and he makes me laugh," I pointed out. "It doesn't hurt that he has a face that could make angels weep."
Sevastyan's gloved fists clenched on his reins. His horse nickered nervously. "I don't want you alone with him anymore."
This jealousy was so delicious, I decided to prime the pump. "Why? Scared I'm going to give it up to him?"
Something primal flashed in Sevastyan's eyes. "That will never happen."
"Is that why you're riding with me? To cock-block him?"
He simply answered, "Yes."
My toes curled in my boots. "Why?"
"I know what Filip had planned for you today." At my raised brows, he said, "He intended to seduce you."
"How do you know this?"
"Because any man in his right mind would be planning the same." He caught my gaze, held it. Was Sevastyan telling me that he was as well?
Was I back to being infatuated again?
I smoothed a curl from my flushed face. "Are you in your right mind?" Say yes, say yes--
Thunder rumbled.
As if waking from a daze, we both jerked our heads up. In these woods, we hadn't been able to see an approaching storm.
"We'll head back."
No, no, I never wanted this ride to end! Sevastyan was acting all possessive and jealous and had actually been flirting with me--in his terse, enforcer way. I couldn't get enough. What harm would a few more minutes do? "If it rains, we won't melt."
No sooner had the words left my mouth than clouds draped over the treetops like a suffocating blanket. A drop hit my face, then another. The sky continued to darken.
When a chill wind started to gust, batting leaves against us, Sevastyan ordered me, "Stay close." He started off, and I followed as he picked up speed, dodging around trees.
Lightning forked out above us, cold drizzle pinging my face. But this ride was exhilarating, made me feel so alive. I couldn't remember the last time my heart had pounded like this.
Oh, yeah. In a maid's closet fourteen days ago.
When lightning struck a tree not far in the distance, Alizay yanked against the bit, sidestepping. "Whoa, girl, easy. . . ." Exhilaration turned to apprehension.
Limbs raked my ponytail, pulling it from its fastening. Between the leaves and my whipping hair, I could barely see. Each bout of thunder grew closer. It sounded so much harsher than it did in Nebraska.
Sevastyan reined around and sped back for me. He seized my reins, forcing Alizay to trot alongside.
More lightning flashed overhead, and another bolt struck even closer. The drizzle turned to a freezing downpour with drops so big they thumped my head. The temperature felt like it was plummeting by the minute. Soon my breaths smoked through the curtain of rain.
Sevastyan narrowed his eyes in the direction of the stables. Then, as if making a command decision, he turned us in another direction.
Over the rumbling, I said, "The stables are the other way!"
"I'm getting you out of the lightning," he called back, spurring his horse.
Onward we rode. In movies, getting caught in the rain with a hot guy was always sexy. I was freezing, certain I looked like a drenched cat, and terrified of being electrocuted. To add insult to injury, my riding pants were creeping up my ass by uncomfortable degrees.
Once we emerged from the edge of the woods, the rain was so thick that I could barely make out a house in the distance. As we neared, I saw it was about as large as the bungalow I'd shared with Jess. The rough-hewn style--exposed-beam walls and a wood-shingled roof--was completely different from every other structure I'd seen at Berezka.
To the side was an overhang for the horses. By the time we di
smounted under the roof, my legs were so stiff that Sevastyan had to catch me. Steadying me on my feet, he barked, "Inside."
Leaving him to take care of the horses, I entered the windowless interior. I removed my soaked gloves, rubbing my hands for warmth as I glanced around me. The overcast light coming from the doorway illuminated a quaintly rustic room.
Realization dawned. This was a banya. A sauna house. I'd read all about them!
Russians took their saunas very seriously. There were rituals and social etiquette surrounding the banya. Creating the best mist--with the finest steam droplets--was considered an art.
The first room, the pre-bath, had pegs to hang clothes and a supply of towels, sheets, and liniments. Deeper inside was the steam room. Polished wood benches stretched along the walls. At one end of the room was a small blue pool. At the opposite end were a firebox and rock chamber.
A water bucket and ladle stood beside the rocks. Veniks--tied bunches of dried branches and leaves--hung from a nearby rack, like mini brooms. Wetted down, they were used to strike the skin to improve circulation.
For some reason, the firebox was already lit, spilling light across the area. The rocks radiated heat, making the air warm and humid. It smelled of cedar and vaguely of the birch veniks--like wintergreen, forest, and leather mixed together.
Realization dawned once more. I was going to be trapped in a banya with the most desirable man I'd ever imagined. A man I couldn't have sex with--without risking permanence. A man I wasn't even supposed to be fooling around with.
Though freezing, I whirled toward the exit, ready to brave the storm.
Sevastyan ducked through the doorway, rifle in hand. "Where do you think you're going?" Once he shut the door behind him, I could scarcely hear the thunder outside the insulated sauna, even as it rumbled the ground and walls.
It was as if we were within a moist, firelit cocoon, separate from the world.
As he shook out his black hair, he propped his gun against the wall, then placed a bar over the door.
Why would he lock it? Between chattering teeth, I said, "We n-need to ride back. Or call for someone to p-pick us up."
He discarded his gloves as he headed to a wall cabinet. I heard the clink of glass, and then he turned back to me holding a vodka shot. "Drink."
I accepted the glass but hesitated. Though I was eager to get warm, I knew better than to be in a sauna with this man--while drinking vodka.