Nikolai

  He must have been able to read the mistrust in my face because he winced. "I would not do that you, Vee."

  Feeling guilty for even thinking he'd do something so cruel, I placed my hand against his chest. "I'm sorry."

  He shook his head as if to indicate that he wasn't hurt by my silent insinuation, but I could see it plain as day in his eyes. He turned his narrowed gaze toward Sergei and quickly interrogated him. "Who came into the studio after we were attacked?"

  Sergei shrugged. "I'm not sure, Boss. It got crazy. I was trying to keep you from bleeding to death and Kostya was cleaning up the scene before the police arrived. We had Alexei and Danny chasing after the SUV that had her."

  Just then, we were interrupted by the rumbling sound of a moving truck arriving outside. I began to despair about the upcoming show. There were only a few days to get everything just right—and now the main piece of the show was missing.

  "I'll find your painting, Vee."

  If any man could accomplish the seemingly impossible, it was Nikolai.

  * * *

  A few nights later, Nikolai cruised down a quiet street and turned into Kostya's driveway. The modest ranch style house on a corner lot didn't look like the type of place a mob cleaner would live but then Kostya had never embraced such stereotypes. As he waited for his friend to answer the front door, Nikolai stared at the strange little garden gnomes hidden among the pansies in the front flower beds. Kostya had the oddest sense of humor…

  The door opened and Kostya waved him inside. "It's back here."

  When they had discovered Vivian's painting missing, Nikolai had instantly suspected Kostya of taking it. Not in a malicious way, of course, but in a misguided attempt to protect him. Kostya's unwavering loyalty sometimes manifested in strange ways—like taking the painting.

  Kostya led him to the master bedroom. Nikolai's eyebrows shot to his hairline when he saw the painting in question hanging on the wall directly across from the bed. "Is there a reason you have Vee's painting in your bedroom?"

  "I like staring at your naked chest before I fall asleep. It's soothing." Kostya betrayed his deadpan delivery with the tiniest twitch of a smile playing upon his lips.

  "Funny," Nikolai grumbled. When Kostya took down the canvas, it made a scraping sound against the wall, and he cringed. "Be careful. She'll be broken-hearted if something happens to this one."

  "I can't believe you're going to let her show it." Kostya wrapped the protective cloth around the canvas.

  "I probably shouldn't," Nikolai agreed, "but the truth is out between us. We're not going back to the way it was."

  "You realize Santos probably saw your chest tattoos at the hospital. If he's at the gallery tonight, he's going to recognize you."

  It was a risky outcome he'd been considering since agreeing to let Vivian show the painting. "I promised her she could show it."

  "And how is that promise going to feel when you're sitting in prison?"

  Unclear on where he stood legally, Nikolai didn't know how to answer that question so he remained silent. When he reached for the painting, Kostya kept a tight grip and refused to let go. Nikolai's hardened stare finally forced his friend to relent. Sighing heavily, Kostya warned, "You're going to regret this."

  Kostya's parting shot ricocheted round and round in Nikolai's head as he ferried the painting to Vivian and her biggest showing yet. The heavily congested downtown traffic slowed his progress and gave him plenty of time to think about what he was doing. His gaze skipped from the windshield to the covered painting squeezed into the backseat of the car.

  Warring with his conscience, he considered how easy it would be to lie to her and tell her that it had been destroyed or that he hadn't been able to locate it. He hadn't revealed to Vivian that Kostya had taken it so it would be easy enough to pretend it was lost forever.

  Imagining the sad look on her face kept him from pulling over, ripping the canvas with his knife and trashing it one of the many garbage bins along his route. He couldn't do that to her. He couldn't destroy something she'd created, even if it put him at risk.

  When he pulled into the private parking area along the back of the gallery, his phone started to ring. Recognizing Vivian's ringtone, he answered while climbing out of the front seat. "What's wrong, Vee?"

  "Nothing," she answered brightly. "Where are you?"

  "I'm here." He opened the back passenger door. "I have a surprise for you."

  "You found the painting." She said it breathlessly, her voice filled with hope.

  "Yes." Sliding the phone between his ear and shoulder, he grimaced as he reached in for the canvas. Though he was healing well, his battered body still protested certain movements and position.

  "Don't bring it in, Kolya."

  Bent in half, he went still. "What?"

  "I'm not showing it."

  "You built the show around this painting—"

  "I did, but you're more important to me than showing that piece of art. I've moved some pieces around and substituted the painting of Ivan for the one of that night. The narrative still flows well."

  He straightened up and placed his hand along the roof of his car. The frigid metal burned his palm. "You don't have to do this, Vee."

  "I do. I've been thinking about us and about what it would risk to show it, especially if someone recognizes you. I don't know what the statute of limitations is for what happened that night, but I don't want you going to prison over it. Everything that happened that night was a mistake. We've both paid for it over the years. It's done. I want it buried in the past—where it belongs."

  His body relaxed and tension he hadn't even realized he'd been holding melted from his bones. Some part of him still believed that he deserved to be punished for what he'd done. He doubted that guilt would ever leave him—and rightly so.

  But the thought of losing everything that he was trying to build with Vivian made him shut and lock the door of his car. Tonight, she was making a sacrifice for their future. He would do everything in his power to make sure that she never regretted it.

  "Come find me," she said with a hint of a smile in her voice.

  He pocketed his phone and touched his tie before buttoning up the front of his suit jacket. Despite the January cold, he hadn't bothered with a coat for the short journey between his car and the gallery. He showed his VIP pass to one of the clipboard wielding assistants manning the back entrance and was waved into the building.

  There was still a quarter of an hour before the official opening of her show but some of their friends and a small group of Houston's fine art crowd had already trickled inside. He spotted Vivian within seconds of stepping into the brightly-lit gallery space. Standing with Gustavo, the gallery owner, and his partner, a high-end art dealer with several international locations, she looked totally at ease and in her element.

  She took his breath away in that flirty little cocktail dress and the strappy high heels. From this distance, the black lace dress looked scandalously short and see-through. In fact, he'd nearly choked to death when she'd come downstairs wearing it earlier that evening. It wasn't until she'd drawn closer that he'd noticed the cleverly crafted illusion of the nude-colored tulle beneath the black lace.

  Nikolai didn't often feel uncomfortable. He'd risen to a certain level of prominence within the underworld, and with that came a great deal of power, but this glamorous art world that Vivian had been invited to inhabit was totally alien to him.

  "You look as wound up as Ivan."

  Drawn by Erin Hanson's soft voice, he turned to his left and found her standing next to him with a glass of champagne. With her pixie-like haircut, slender, petite frame and gentle sweetness, she was the absolute last woman in the world Nikolai ever would have imagined his friend marrying. Well-educated and from an upper middle class family, Erin wasn't the type who would typically give a man like Ivan a second glance but damned if she hadn't fallen in love with him at first sight—if his friend's version of their whirlwind romance was to be b
elieved.

  "This isn't my scene."

  She laughed. "I can't stand those awful fights that Ivan drags me to but I've learned to sit through them and smile. I've taught myself the rules of mixed-martial arts and the ways the tournaments work because I know it makes him happy to have me there supporting him and his fighters, even if I am cringing inside every time one of them gets hit."

  "There seems to be a higher learning curve when it comes to fine art."

  She sipped the fizzy liquid and shrugged. "Someday you'll be able to talk about giclee art prints like a boss. You'll read books or Google the hell out it. That's what we do when we love someone and want to show them how much we support them."

  Across the gallery, Ivan projected a calm exterior as he chatted with Dimitri and Benny, but Nikolai recognized the rigid stance as one of discomfort. Like him, Ivan kept his hands down and out of sight when he was in public and among strangers, hiding the heavy tattoos marking him as a criminal.

  "It's different for you two," he said finally. If anyone could understand the complexity of his relationship with Vivian, it was Erin. "You met Ivan after he'd reformed himself and after he'd recreated himself as someone you could be proud of, as someone you want to marry."

  "Vivian wants to marry you. She loves you." Erin eyed him carefully. "You love her. I know you're afraid of holding her back. It's the same thing Ivan feared when we got together, but I went into our relationship with my eyes wide open. Clearly Vivian has done the same thing."

  He heard the slight disappointment in her voice. "You don't approve."

  She avoided his gaze. "What I think doesn't matter. Vivian's made up her mind and I support her. God knows she's more aware of what and who you are than the rest of us. If she can accept it, we'll learn to accept it, too."

  High praise indeed.

  Before he could tell Erin that he wasn’t as terrible as his dark reputation would have her believe, he made eye contact with Vivian. She grinned at him and took a few steps in his direction, but a man who looked vaguely familiar moved into her path. He gestured toward her paintings as he spoke and Vivian's eyes lit up like Christmas.

  "That's Yuri's friend. The one who helped him save Lena's dad by finding that painting her cousin had stolen," Erin clarified.

  "Niels." The name of the extremely wealthy Dane finally came to him. Polished and suave, Niels chatted Vivian up like a pro. "What is he doing here?"

  "Apparently, Lena showed him some photos of Vivian's work. He was so enamored he changed his winter vacation plans to be here. He actually beat Lena and Yuri back to Houston." She glanced at her watch. "They should be here soon."

  Nikolai let a low sound escape his throat as he watched the billionaire art collector and businessman move even closer to Vivian. Once, Yuri had confessed to tagging along with Niels and a friend to one of their privately owned sex clubs. Niels had certain tastes. Billionaire or not, he'd flatten that damn Dane if he slid even one inch closer to Vivian.

  "Calm down," Erin said in that mothering tone of hers. "Vivian only has eyes for you. She probably doesn't even realize that he's trying to flirt with her. Like it or not, Vivian has to network. A guy like that could do amazing things for her career."

  He heard the silent censure in Erin's voice. Don't hold her back.

  "I would never do anything to jeopardize her future."

  Erin laid a gentle hand on his arm. "I know you wouldn't."

  He kept his gaze on Vivian who had now attracted another pair of wealthy looking art buyers. "This will probably be my one and only appearance at one of her events."

  "Why?" Erin sounded shocked.

  "For the same reasons, I try to cover all this up when I'm out with her." He rubbed his finger across the tattoo decorating one of his fingers. "I know what people think when they see these. I don't blame them, you understand, but I won't let my mistakes ruin her chances of making it."

  "Nikolai," Erin said with a laugh. "You're really overreacting on this one. Vivian is an artist. Hell, she's practically expected to have a mysterious history and a torrid love affair with a bad boy."

  Nikolai wasn't so sure he liked being called a bad boy. It seemed so very childish and silly, especially considering all the things that he'd done. Deep down inside, he hoped that Erin was right. He'd never forgive himself if loving Vivian and making her his wife ruined the promising art career ahead of her.

  "Shit." Erin hissed the curse word so quietly he barely heard it.

  His gaze snapped in the direction she was looking. Detective Santos strode into the gallery wearing a very nice suit—and a very angry scowl. When Santos found him in the crowd, the detective glared daggers. The mean, warning glower promised a knock-down, drag-out fight.

  So much for my plans to play nice…

  Chapter Fifteen

  The moment I spotted Eric crossing the gallery I knew we were about to have a nasty fight.

  Benny must have noticed the look on Eric's face because she seemed to appear out of thin air to intercept him with a smile. Those two had been friends so long that Eric wouldn't be rude to her, especially not in her obviously pregnant state. When Dimitri joined them, I knew I had just enough time to carefully extricate myself from the conversation I was in with Niels Mikkelsen and the two art-loving Houstonians who wanted to commission pieces for their new home.

  As deftly as possible, I slipped out of the conversation with promises to return and stepped into Eric's line of sight. He pinned me in place with his angry stare. I had a very good idea of what had him so pissed off.

  I glanced at Nikolai and Erin. Her face a mask of concern, she shot me an encouraging smile, but it was Nikolai who had me the most worried. Though he generally tried to stay out of my family business, I had a feeling that line was about to be wiped away. Soon, we would be a family of two—and I doubted Nikolai was going to make room in our new, tiny circle for Eric.

  Nikolai and I shared a look that said everything. If I wanted him to, he'd come over right now and handle it. Because he loved me, he was standing back and waiting for me to decide what I wanted.

  Inhaling a steadying breath, I approached my cousin. "Hey, Eric."

  "Vivian." His gaze fell to my left hand and the ring finger that remained bare. "We have to talk."

  "Um…" I searched the gallery for a quiet space. "Let's go in the back. There's a storage area that's private."

  As we left Benny and Dimitri, she reached out and gave my hand a surreptitious squeeze. I so needed her reassurance. I had a sinking feeling that Eric was about to lose his shit, and I was going to be the target of his fury.

  Safely tucked away in the storage room, I closed the door and leaned back against it for support. Eric and I stared at one another. He was so angry his face was flushed and his chest heaved with every breath. Finally, I sighed. "Just say it."

  "What the fuck are you doing?"

  I flinched at his growled question. Remembering that morning in my kitchen when he'd told me that I had to find someone to protect me, I reminded him, "You told me to go to Nikolai for help."

  "I didn't tell you to fucking marry the guy!"

  "Eric, please—"

  "No." He swept both hands out in front of him. "I'm not letting you do this. I'm not letting you throw your life away on a piece of shit criminal like that."

  Hearing him describe Nikolai in such an awful way made my gut churn.

  "Why, Vivian? Of all the men on God's green earth, why the hell are you marrying that one?"

  "I love him, Eric."

  His mocking laugh echoed in the dimly lit room. He swore in Spanish, the bitterly spoken words stabbing at me like ice picks. "Will you listen to yourself? Do you understand how dumb that is? He's a fucking mobster, Vivian."

  Squaring my shoulders, I stepped away from the door. I'd had just about enough of Eric talking to me like that. "I know what he is—and I don't care."

  "Oh my God!" Eric threw his hands in the air. "You cannot possibly be this stupid and naïve."


  "Apparently I am."

  "Wow." He looked utterly disgusted. "I always thought you were an apple that had fallen far from the family tree but now I see that you're just as crazy as your mother."

  It couldn't have hurt worse if he'd slapped me. "Screw you, Eric."

  His cheek twitched and regret darkened his eyes. "Vivi—"

  "Get out!" My snapped reply did little to dissuade him from trying to change my mind.

  "No. He hasn't even put a ring on your finger. Just tell him you made a mistake and you want to call off the wedding."

  "No."

  "Vivian, this isn't a joke. When you were just dating him or sleeping with him or whatever the hell you two were up to, it was one thing. But this? This isn't happening. Look, I know you're excited about the money and the jewelry and the cars—"

  "Are you insane?" I interrupted his screed. "Is that what you think? That I'm with Nikolai because I'm some money-hungry whore willing to spread her legs for a sports car?"

  "What else am I supposed to think, Vivian? This guy has basically been grooming you to be his mistress since you started college."

  I'd never wanted to punch anyone so badly in my entire life. "Shut up. Just. Shut. Up."

  "No. You listen to me—"

  "No," I interjected furiously, "you listen to me. Whatever you think is happening or has happened between us is some sick, twisted figment of your imagination. It's none of your damn business, but I've never been with any man, Eric. Never. Nikolai has never tried to cross that line with me. Not once."

  The knowledge that I was still a proud card-carrying member of the V Club seemed to shock Eric. "But he—"

  "He what, Eric? He helped me when my grandparents died, and I was all alone? He made sure I finished college? He gave me a job and a way to support myself and my dreams of becoming a successful artist? Who the hell else stepped up to help me? Oh, that's right. No one!"

  Now he was the one visibly flinching. My father's side of the family had written me off as a very young child. I hadn't even known Eric existed until I was a teenager. Even then, reformed as I was from my juvenile delinquent ways, his mother, my aunt, wouldn't let me in their house. I wasn't even supposed to trespass into their neighborhood.