Russian Mobster’s Revenge (4 page)

“My
boyfriend
?” she snorted. “Come on, Ivan. Don’t insult my intelligence. Either you’re horrible at doing research about your revenge targets, or you know that I don’t
have
a boyfriend and you’re seeking to embarrass me.”

“Do you always think this much?” He leaned against the doorjamb. Something about his manner simply oozed a sense of dark desirability. Ivan was the only person she knew who could look sexy when he was being an ass.

“Thinking is rather a requirement for getting on in life, don’t you think?” She shook her head. “But back to the boyfriend question. No. I don’t have a boyfriend right now. Honestly, I haven’t had time for one in…let’s say in eight years.”

His brows lifted in what she sensed was real surprise. “I find that difficult to believe.”

“I don’t particularly care if you find it difficult or not,” she retorted. “I’ve gone out a few times, taken a few lovers”—oh it was obvious that he didn’t like that, the oaf—“and I’ve had my share of fun. But getting into a long-term relationship takes dedication and work, and I just don’t feel like I want to commit to the effort.”

“That’s a cold assessment,” he observed.

He stepped into the office and approached her slowly. She took a deep breath. The sexual tension between the two of them had always been intense, but this was approaching combustion. She exhaled slowly and then inhaled. Unfortunately, that gave her a nose full of Ivan Dedov—dark masculine spice, cedar, sandalwood, and something undeniably attractive that made everything below her belly tighten up with arousal. He affected her in ways nobody else ever had. But now was
not
the time.

“Did you have a purpose for coming in here?” she demanded, forcing herself not to react to his nearness. “Or are you just hanging out to have girl talk about boyfriends and the latest hair treatments?”

Placing his hands on either arm of her chair, he leaned in until their faces were only inches apart. Then he took a deep, intentional breath. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to go get some dinner and discuss your weekly duties.”

“Yes, yes of course.” She nodded, trying to hang on to her composure and feeling as though her knees were made of jelly.

***

Ivan could tell that he was affecting her. Good. It served the little wretch right. She was driving him to distraction with her sassy words, and that scent!

“You know,” he began slowly, “when I first met you, I never would have imagined you could be the type of woman who would allow your brother to dictate your life.”

“Is that what you believe of me?” Her dark eyes sparked with anger.

He gave her a slow, appraising look. “Isn’t that what has happened both in the past and the present?”

“Just because you don’t understand what I did or what my reasons might have been, doesn’t mean I let my brother run my life!”

Oh yes, she was angry now. The animosity practically made her vibrate with excitement. It also had the dual effect of making her look quite fetching. Ivan struggled to keep a solemn expression on his face.

Emily narrowed her gaze until her dark eyes were slits. “I always knew you were as ignorant as you were arrogant, but this really takes the cake!”

“Ignorant, am I?” He stood up, pushing away from her chair and forcing himself to put a little distance between them.

He could feel the draw of her. The memories of what it felt like to gently stroke the skin between her breasts, to kiss her neck, or to hear the noises she made when she grew aroused began to play inside his head. He needed to keep moving and stick to his plan before it consumed him more thoroughly that it would her.

“Come on.” He snapped his fingers. “Let’s go get some food. I’m starved and I’m sure you could use something as well.”

“Maybe,” she allowed.

“You know what,” he said grouchily. “If you do something stupid like go on a hunger strike, I’ll let you keel over from your own stupidity. Do you understand?”

“And if you do something stupid, like say something that provides me with a reason to kill you, I’ll do it and not feel one moment’s pause. Do you understand?”

Ivan burst out laughing in spite of himself. The belly laugh caught him by surprise, though it probably shouldn’t have. “Damn, Emily!” he said when he could speak. “Your wit is just as sharp as your mind. I must admit that I may not have taken that into consideration when I came up with this idea.”

“Good,” she said decisively. “Then you’re already destined to lose.”

Chapter Five

Emily wondered if Ivan had made certain that all activity in the restaurant would utterly stop the moment he walked through the front doors. Regardless of whether or not he’d arranged it on purpose, the deference his staff showed him was rather confusing to contemplate. Was it real? Was it fake? Was it just pandering because he was the boss? Did Emily really
care
?

“Right this way, Mr. Dedov,” the hostess gushed.

The woman was wearing a black top so low cut that her breasts were practically spilling out. The only thing Emily noticed about this fact was that Ivan’s gaze didn’t seem to linger overlong on the cleavage.

“Thank you, Veronica,” Ivan said casually. “I think I’d like a table in the middle of the room tonight, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh not at all!” Veronica’s round backside swayed side to side as she led them to a table in the center of the hustle and bustle of the restaurant.

On one end of the room stretched a long bar. The mirrored back reflected light off of thousands of bottles of liquor. The other end of the room showcased a stage. A gleaming black grand piano sat in the center. A woman in a bright red dress practically draped herself over the instrument as she wailed a Russian love song at the top of her lungs. At least there was no dance floor. Dancing was not in Emily’s wheelhouse, despite the fact that she thought it beautiful to watch.

“Thank you, Veronica,” Ivan told the hostess as he graciously pulled out Emily’s chair for her.

Veronica shook her thick brown hair away from her face. “Anytime.”

Emily managed to wait until the young woman had left the vicinity of their table before she chuckled to herself. Shaking her head to imitate Veronica, Emily affected a breathy tone of voice. “Anytime, Mr. Dedov.”

“What are you doing?” Ivan didn’t look amused.

She raised a brow. “I’m poking fun at your groupie.”

“Groupie?”

“Oh come on, surely you’re not completely oblivious to that sort of thing.” Emily cocked her head to one side, trying to read his unfathomable expression. “Or do things like that happen so often that you’ve ceased to notice?”

His expression turned dark and brooding. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were pestering me about my hypothetical love life,” she pointed out. “It’s only fair that I nag you about yours. Don’t you think?”

Ivan raised his hand, signaling a waitress. The woman immediately hopped to. Ivan gestured to their table. “Bring us a bottle of red wine from my private collection, and I want two orders of my usual. Quickly, please? Tell Dimitri that I told him to hurry up.”

“Yes, sir.” The waitress actually bobbed a little curtsey.

Emily watched the poor woman scamper off and shook her head. “I would have never imagined you to be one to create an empire full of serfs.”

***

Ivan could not decide what Emily was about. Instead of impressing her with his importance, he seemed to be somehow earning her scorn. It pissed him off. He felt his mood growing darker with each passing second.

“When did you become queen of judgment?” Ivan snapped. “You keep talking about what I was like. What about yourself? When did you become so uptight and judgmental?”

The waitress appeared with their wine. Ivan opened the bottle and poured a measure into his wineglass. He swirled the brilliant red liquid, sniffed it lightly to test the scent, and then took a sip. Finally he gave the woman a nod and indicated that she should fill their glasses.

Emily spoke once they were alone again. “Do you remember our first bottle of wine?”

“I had just turned twenty-one.”

“I wasn’t even twenty,” she reminded him. “And you bought that cheap six-dollar bottle of white wine because you thought it would be romantic.”

Ivan couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “And it tasted like shit.” He began to laugh. “Ah, your face! Your expression looked as if you’d just swallowed a lemon.”

“You weren’t much better,” she reminded him. “In fact, I believe you spit yours out.”

“So I did,” he mused. “We were at that park not far from your brother’s house.”

“That was where we met most of the time.” Her voice was soft, her expression even gentler. “We were so young.”

“Foolish,” he said gruffly. This was not the time to lapse into some trip down memory lane.

“I never thought we were foolish,” she argued. “Just naïve.”

“I’ve learned many things since then.”

“How to boss people around,” she observed. “I noticed. You’re kind of an ass about it, actually.”

“Like you and Sergei don’t do your fair share of bossing your employees around.” Why was he being so defensive? What did it matter what she thought?

“I’d like to think that I’m respectful to my employees when I’m asking them to perform a task. And I never ask someone else to do something I wouldn’t do myself.” She picked up her wineglass and took a sip. “It’s good.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I don’t usually like wine.”

“Do you have
any
pleasures in your life?” The question just slipped out.

She shot him a strange look over the top of her glass. “It would seem that you often have too many.”

“Yes, Emily,” he said sarcastically. “I’ve fucked every single woman who works in this restaurant. I always find it conducive to good business to have sex with my employees. Nothing says professionalism and profit like pissing off the women in my employ.”

Her grim expression lasted all of ten seconds before she seemed to dissolve into laughter. “Okay, that was fair.”

Ivan was taken aback. He’d expected her to get even more uptight. Instead she seemed to relax.

“I’m sorry.” Emily ducked her head. “I’ve made a lot of assumptions about you based upon my brother’s opinions, which is stupid of me because we both know that Sergei is not a good judge of character. Can we just have a truce? For dinner, at least?”

Ivan cocked his head. Was she playing some game with him? Did it matter? His plan to seduce her back into his bed in order to gain a fuller revenge on her brother was never going to work if she was constantly pissed off at him. He take this truce and use it to his advantage.

***

Emily was feeling a little tipsy from all the wine, but it was the conversation that was making her feel so giddy. This was the Ivan she remembered. He was engaging and charming. She was laughing every other minute, and he had a knack for being silly in a way that seemed almost lighthearted.

“You’ve changed,” he said quietly after they had been at their table for nearly an hour. “I don’t think Sergei realizes how lucky he is to have your loyalty.”

She shrugged, taking another small sip of wine. “My brother is my only family. I will do anything I have to do for him in the same way that he’s cared for me over the years.”

“Beautiful sentiment,” Ivan murmured. “Although I think Sergei is still getting the better end of the deal.”

Emily felt frozen, a bit like a rabbit mesmerized by a snake. She watched as Ivan reached across the table and took her hand. His grip was warm and firm. She could feel the strength of his hand against her much smaller one and felt a corresponding pull in her womb. This man was unapologetic and hard. Yet he had a softer side he had rarely showed to anyone else.

“What are you thinking?” he whispered the question across the table and she realized that they were almost the only people left in the restaurant.

She opened her mouth to answer his question, but the front door of the restaurant slammed open and drew her attention away from Ivan. “What on earth…?”

“Where’s Dedov?” A very familiar voice rolled through the restaurant.

Emily’s eyes fluttered closed. She knew that ragged, angry tone nearly as well as anything else. It was Sergei.

Across the table, Ivan had already lounged back in his seat, looking pleased.

“Dedov?” Sergei shouted.

“I’m right here,” Ivan drawled. “It isn’t necessary to scream and throw a tantrum.”

Sergei charged in their direction. It was as if he hadn’t actually noticed Emily just yet. Sergei’s face was an ugly mask of anger. He stood over Ivan, glowering like an angry bear.

“Have you met my companion, Sergei?” Ivan gestured across the table to Emily.

If she could have gotten away with kicking him under the table, she would have. Instead she shot him a dirty look and prayed he would just shut up and let Sergei vent.

No such luck. “Why don’t you explain to my assistant what your complaint is, Sergei.”

“Assistant…” Sergei’s face began turning an ugly shade of red as his anger reached dangerous levels. Emily swallowed and wondered how she was going to get out of this situation without losing something she was afraid she’d never get back.

***

Ivan was enjoying himself entirely too much. Sergei looked in danger of a heart attack. Of course, Ivan felt a trace of doubt when he saw the obvious distress on Emily’s face. But he could ignore that for the moment.

“As I said, Sergei,” Ivan said casually, “why don’t you explain what’s got you so riled up.”

Sergei stabbed his fingers through his hair. “My men just happened to all get rounded up by the cops and arrested on the same day.”

“What?” Emily leaned forward, placing her hand on the table and looking positively ill. “Your men got
arrested
? How? Why?”

“Someone must have tipped off the FBI.” Sergei made a fist and clenched his hand so hard that it shook. “That someone being you, Ivan! How dare you? I could go to the organization and have you sanctioned!”

“I don’t think you’re going to do that.” Ivan held on to his temper, watching Sergei lose his with amusement.