Alexei (Her Russian Protector #8) (14 page)

Stas stopped at the other end of the granite slab and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Hi.”

Alexei grasped Shay’s hand and led her into the living area. “Would you like to go to bed or—”

“I can’t sleep,” she hastily interjected. “I just can’t.”

“That’s all right.” He rubbed her shoulder and guided her into the corner seat of the large sofa. The stone-colored cashmere throw artfully draped over the back caught his eye. He tugged it free and tucked it around Shay’s legs and lap so she would stay warm.

“Alexei,” she said in an almost pleading tone while clutching his hand. “Please be careful.”

Her fear and concern for his safety detonated a wild burst of emotion in his chest. Bending down, he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” He lowered his mouth until his lips were touching the shell of her ear. “They think we’ve been involved for a long time, and it’s best if you play along with that.”

She turned toward him, seeking out his gaze with one of understanding. She knew the stakes here. She wouldn’t do anything to put either of them at risk. Embracing the role he had foisted upon her, she leaned over and kissed him properly. The shock of her soft, warm lips upon his nearly took him out at the damned knees. It was an innocent kiss, the type he had first tried on a girl when he was eleven or twelve, but this one made is heart race and his lungs ache.

Unable to help himself, Alexei brushed loose strands of hair behind her ear and cupped the back of her head, holding her in place a moment longer just so he could enjoy her mouth on his. When he found the strength to break the kiss, it was all he could do to straighten up and walk away from her.

After ducking into the master bedroom to grab the emergency set of clothing he kept stowed there, he gathered up their bloody clothes and stuffed them in his gym bag. Stas followed him to the door. “She’s in good hands.”

“See that those good hands of yours stay away from her, yeah?” Alexei warned before shutting the door. He waited to hear the lock engage and went straight to the elevator. After punching the button for the parking garage level, he leaned back against the wall of the box and closed his eyes. He lifted his hand to his mouth and traced his lips. He felt like an overeager teenager as he relived that simple kiss. With one unexpected and wholly innocent move, Shay had fucking shattered him.

When he stepped out into the garage, he inhaled a deep, invigorating lungful of cold air. It was going to be a hell of a long and dangerous night, but he had a damn good reason to get back here as quickly and as safely possible curled up in the corner of his couch.

Chapter Seven

I kissed him.

I kissed Alexei.

What the hell was I thinking?

What was
he
thinking now?

My lips were still warm from the contact of his hard, sinful mouth. All I could think about was when I might have the chance to kiss him again.

“Do you want some coffee or tea?”

I popped up a little higher so I could see over the top of the lush, comfy sofa. Stas banged around in the kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets as he surveyed the food situation.

Not quite as tall as Alexei but heavier and with a more solid build, he had shucked his leather jacket. The navy blue polo he wore was stretched tight across his shoulders. His full sleeve tattoos looked nothing like Alexei’s mafia ink. Here and there, I picked out symbols that were similar to the ones on Alexei’s skin but it seemed as though Stas had chosen to decorate his arms for different reasons that Alexei had.

“How about some hot cocoa?” He held up two of the small cups that fit into the coffee maker reservoir. “There aren’t any marshmallows but I bet it’s sweet.”

The idea that this intimidating gangster was going to make me hot cocoa brought a surprised smile to my face. “That sounds nice.”

“All right.” He turned back toward the coffee maker, and I reached for the television remote on the glass coffee table. I clicked through the channels in search of something mindless to watch. Eventually I found re-runs of one of those reality cooking shows to keep us entertained.

“What are you watching?” Stas handed me a cup wrapped in a cloth napkin. “Careful,” he warned. “It’s really hot.”

I blew across the top of the steaming liquid, creating little ripples in the chocolate drink. “Some reality show about bankrupt restaurants.”

“Have you ever worked in a restaurant?” He went back to the kitchen and returned to the living room with a cup of coffee and Alexei’s abandoned plate of cold eggs and toast.

“I waited tables and washed dishes in a couple of different places when I was in high school, but eventually, I switched to cleaning offices and homes. What about you?”

“I was a dishwasher and did some cooking before I shifted to this line of work.” He placed his food on the coffee table and dragged the table closer to the sofa. After plopping down on the opposite end, he dug into the cold eggs and toast.

“And what exactly is this line of work?” I took a tiny sip of the hot cocoa and waited for him to answer.

Stas shot me a funny look. “I would have a thought a woman in your position would know not to ask questions like that.”

“A woman in my position? And what the hell does that mean?”

“You know what it means.” He gestured around the apartment with the half-eaten slice of toast. “It means that the tradeoff for all this is that you don’t ask questions about where the money comes from. This is a nice step up for you.” He took another bite of his toast. “You went from cleaning toilets to playing private maid for a man like Alexei. Don’t fuck that up by asking about things that are none of your business.”

I couldn’t decide if I was more angry or humiliated by the way he had spoken to me. “Maybe you should take some of your advice and mind
your
business. I sure hope you didn’t have plans for that bonus Alexei promised you.”

Frozen like a deer in headlights, he had that piece of toast clamped between his teeth as he watched me.

“Yeah. That’s right. I heard you two talking back there. And let me tell you something, Stas. The second Alexei finds out you just spoke to me like that? He’s going to kick your ass all the way out the door and down eleven flights of stairs.”

Because he would. One thing this wild and crazy night had taught me was that Alexei wasn’t going to let anyone treat me badly. He wouldn’t stand for it—and I wasn’t going to stand for it either.

Stas put down his toast and swallowed loudly. “I’m sorry, Shay. You’re right. I should mind my own business.”

“Your damn right you should,” I muttered grumpily. “For your information, I’ve never taken a penny from Alexei. I work hard. I have a college degree. I’m saving to start my own business. Everything that I own is
mine
.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I can see that I did, but that wasn’t my intention.” He drank some coffee and shook his head. “I was just trying to warn you, to remind you that asking questions about men like me and men with a history like Alexei’s can get you in a lot of trouble.”

“I’m not stupid, Stas. I know that.”

“So why did you ask about my line of work?”

“Because I’m curious? Because I was trying to be nice? There were other ways to answer that question without being a jerk, you know?”

“Yeah. I know,” he glumly replied. “Maybe I’m just an asshole. Did you think about that?”

“You made me hot cocoa. An asshole wouldn’t have done that.”

He actually smiled. “I really am sorry for the way I behaved.”

I wiggled back into the corner of the sofa and curled my knees up tight. “I really am sorry that you aren’t getting your bonus for tonight.”

Stas laughed and picked up the plate of cold eggs. “That’s fair.” He leaned back and ate quietly while I tried to figure out what was happening on the television screen. During a commercial, he said, “My mom and I came to the States when I was four. I was a good kid. I stayed out of trouble. I went to school. Hell, I even played football and ran track. I thought I would go to college and be a stock broker or some shit like that.”

“So how does a good kid with aspirations for the American Dream end up working for someone like Nikolai?”

Stas rubbed his fingers together in a universal symbol I recognized. “Money.”

“Gambling?” I asked, thinking of all the families in my neighborhood who had been ruined by gambling debts and playing the lottery.

“No. Much worse.” He put down the empty plate and picked up his coffee cup. “Medical debt.” He took a drink and seemed almost hesitant to delve into memories that I suspected were painful and sad. “Mom had cancer. Ovarian,” he said, “but by the time they caught it, she was all eaten up inside. The treatment was expensive, and she didn’t have health insurance. A friend of mine? His uncle was the boss back home so I asked him for work, and nine years later, here I am.”

“Here you are,” I murmured. “What are you? Twenty-six?”

“Twenty-seven.” He took a long drink of coffee. “And before you ask… No, my mother didn’t survive. She died but she died in the best hospice program available. She was at home, and she was comfortable and she didn’t have to worry about anything.”

“She worried about you,” I said without thinking.

Stas glanced at me and smiled sadly. “That’s what mamas do. I bet your mother is up right now, pacing her house and wondering what’s happening to you and your sister.”

“I bet she’s not.” Bitterness crept into my voice. “Mom bailed when we were younger. She just walked right out of the house and never came back.”

For a man who seemed so hard and wise, he looked shocked by the discovery that my mother had abandoned me. “Where is she now?”

I shrugged and pretended as if I didn’t care. “No idea.”

“Why did she leave?”

I ran my finger around the rim of my cup. “I don’t know. I mean, now that I’m older and I understand what it’s like to sacrifice and to put dreams on hold? I think maybe she was just tired of being a parent. I think maybe she just wanted out.”

“Like your sister?” he asked quietly.

My head snapped up at that. “What do you mean?”

His shoulders inched higher in a defensive shrug. “I heard some things tonight about your sister.”

“What sort of things?”

“She strikes me as the type of woman who wants things she hasn’t earned. She craves the kind of life other people have but she isn’t willing to work for it. She wants money and nice things, designer handbags and jewelry and five-hundred-dollar shoes.” He drained his cup and set it aside. “She put her baby sister’s life at risk for some money. She decided that your life was worth less than whatever some guy out of Tirana was willing to pay for a block of stolen financial information.”

The blunt description of the situation made my chest ache. Was that true? Had Shannon ever framed the situation in that way or had she just blithely gone along with Ruben’s scheme? Had she been so blinded by dollar signs and the promise of riches that she hadn’t even considered what would happen if her scam was uncovered?

“Shay?” Stas touched my arm and startled me.

“Don’t touch me!” Gasping and in a blind panic, I practically flew off the couch, spilling what was left of my hot cocoa all over the blanket. My feet got tangled up in the blanket, and I tumbled forward. Stas caught me and settled me back on the couch.

“Are you okay?” He quickly took his hands away from me and stood up straight, putting space between us and showing me his palms like a perp in the a police officer’s spotlight. “Shit! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized in a breathless rush. “It’s been a long night for me. I’m still on edge.”

“Don’t apologize. This is all on me.” He cautiously pulled the wet, stained blanket away from me. “Let me put this in the laundry, okay? We’ll find you another blanket.”

“Don’t put that in the washing machine,” I warned, thinking of how lovely and soft the cashmere was against my skin. “It has to be hand-washed with special soap, rolled in a towel to squeeze out the water and then left to air dry.”

Stas blinked. “Yeah, so I’m just going to put this in the laundry room for the housekeeper to handle. I’ll be right back.”

Housekeeper? I wanted to laugh at the idea that I had a housekeeper to tackle chores but then I remembered that Alexei most certainly did have a full staff at his home. I assumed his mistresses all benefited from the perks of his wealth. As spotless as this apartment was, it was clear that someone was maintaining the space even when unoccupied.

“Here,” Stas said as he unfurled a light, fluffy comforter in the palest gray. “I found this in one of the bedrooms.”

“Thanks.” I tucked it in tight and got comfortable again.

“How about we agree that we don’t talk about family any more tonight?” Stas dropped down on his end of the sofa again. “You and I have enough baggage to sink a ship. Let’s just find something really stupid to watch and hang out, okay?”

“I like that idea.” I tossed the remote at him. “Your choice this time.”

Stas flicked through the channels until he landed on the one of those shows about repo men. “Is this okay?”