Her Russian Brute: 50 Loving States, Idaho (46 page)

M
ORNING sickness was
a bitch and a half, Sam thought, as she flushed down the two deposits she’d just made, the lovely breakfast from this morning, along with her dinner from the night before. She fell back from the golden toilet—which she chose to believe was only painted that color, not made of the real stuff. A solid gold toilet seemed a bit much, even for Nikolai.

She eased herself into a seated position on the floor, resting the back of her head on the red and white marble wall. At least this office bathroom was cool. Unlike his office, which had been filled with Nikolai and his lawyer and the disgusting smell of overbearing cologne. Even righteous indignation couldn’t keep her stomach at a standstill long enough for her to make her point. Nikolai was lucky she had made it to the office’s golden toilet and hadn’t thrown up all over his lawyer’s nice wingtips. Tempting as that had been.

God, what was she going to do?

She had no idea, but at least she could take solace in the fact that she most likely wouldn’t be throwing up again. Sam had given Nikolai’s ludicrous toilet every single thing she’d put into her stomach over the last twelve hours. She just wished her stomach would understand that and stop churning already.

She closed her eyes, slowing her breaths down and willing the nauseous feeling to pass. Outside the bathroom, she could hear voices talking low, departing footsteps. Then it went quiet until a few minutes later when someone opened the door and turned on a faucet. Anna, she assumed, feeling too weak to check.

But she was pretty sure Nikolai must have called in his housekeeper to deal with her when a cold cloth was pressed against her head.

“Thank you,” she said, breathing into the wet coolness.

But it was not Anna who said, “I will put towel on back of your neck now. It will help you.”

Her eyes flew open, and yes, there was Nikolai, bent down in front of her, his long fingers keeping the cloth in place on her head.

“Lean your head forward,” he instructed. But the command turned out to be just a formality, because his hand came around the back of her head, pulling it forward with brisk efficiency until her chin was touching her chest. Then he placed the cloth on the back of her neck.

Immediately the nausea began to abate, releasing it’s fevered grip on her as the heaving sensation in her stomach faded away.

“Thank you,” she whispered, unable to believe his simple solution was actually working.

“Take more deep breaths now,” he answered.

She did as he said and caught his scent on the inhale. It was a good one. Plain, no-frills soap and something else… ice. That was it. He smelled just like the stuff he skated on… frosty. Unlike his lawyer, who’d smelled like he’d poured a whole bottle of Drakkar Noir on before coming over to intimidate her into signing a bullshit custody agreement.

As if reading her mind, Nikolai said, “Kevin is gone. I sent him away. This discussion will be as you said. Between you and me from now on.”

“Oh, was that a discussion?” she asked, fighting her weak stomach to achieve a withering tone. “Because it felt like you and your lawyer were trying to explain to me why I’m not fit to be anything but an incubator for this baby.”

She wanted to remain cold and removed like him, but she couldn’t help it. Her eyes clashed with his, indignant and hurt.

He returned her angry look with a cool one of his own as he removed the cloth from behind her neck.

“Kevin’s statements weren’t personal,” he said, rewetting the cloth at the bathroom’s golden bowl sink.

“Really? Because they felt awfully damn personal,” Sam answered, her voice thin and weak.

Nikolai made a scoffing sound. “You are not business person or hockey player. You do not know difference between game and personal.”

He came back over to her and once again arranged the cloth behind her neck, and dammit, the fresh rush of cold felt so glorious, a wave of sincere gratitude went through her. An emotion completely incongruous with her hot anger.

“Kevin is, how you say—proof of concept. I needed you to know I could have full custody of baby, and you could not stop me.”

And that statement solved her pesky gratitude problem. “Congratulations,” she said. “You made your point.”

If he was interested in gloating, it wasn’t evident in the neutral set of his face. “But it does not have to go this way, there is another way it could go.

She kept her mouth closed and waited, wanting to hear what he would say next more than she wanted to shoot off another angry retort.

“You can marry me,” he said.

And Sam blinked, because surely she had just heard him wrong. “Excuse me?”

“If you marry me, we will not need custody agreement. I will not need pay Kevin to destroy your reputation. I will not need—”

She held up her hand to stop his tide of potential dire predictions. “Wait, can we go back to the part where you want to marry me, because… why exactly?”

He averted his eyes. “I do not want my child to be in home where its parents aren’t married. I grew up this way. My child will not.”

Sam chewed over this one tiny nugget of information he had given her about his past, before saying, “You know, there are ways to raise a child successfully in two separate homes. In fact, sometimes it’s better that way for everybody involved.”

She thought of her own upbringing in a home that technically had two parents and shivered. Growing up, she would have given anything to have her mother leave her stepfather and raise her daughter by herself.

“We don’t have to get married to craft some kind of agreement we can both be happy with,” she told Nikolai.

But Nikolai shook his head. “Our child must have both parents. You should marry me, so we don’t fight over baby in court. It would be, how you say, marriage of convenience. Best thing for all of us. What I want. What Pavel want. He will not care about new baby, because he will have you as his mother. My lawyer tells me I must still do legal adoption of my nephew. If you marry me, we can adopt him. Together.”

Together. Her heart soared at the thought of becoming Pavel’s mother, legally and with rights accorded. However, it didn’t escape her that Nikolai seemed to be having trouble meeting her eyes as he offered to make her dreams of being a real mother to Pavel come true.

Sam found herself once again wondering about his childhood in Russia. What had happened that had turned him into the man bent down in front of her, the muscles in his neck straining as he offered her Pavel in exchange for marriage?

“What if I say no?” she asked him.

This question made his cold eyes finally meet hers. “Don’t say no,” he answered.

A bolt of fear shot through her, one he must have seen on her face, because he said, “You think I am crazy. You are scared of me now.”

“I’m…” She stopped and took careful survey of her emotions. “I don’t know how to feel. I don’t like being threatened. And I don’t like being blackmailed.”

He shook his head. “I am sorry but this is way it must be.”

It occurred to Sam then that she wasn’t going to win this argument with him. She could talk to him until she was blue in the face about split custody and mindful parenting, but it wouldn’t do any good.

For whatever reason, Nikolai was determined to be a part of this baby’s life, even if it meant marrying someone he didn’t love. And maybe…

She couldn’t believe this thought was occurring to her even as it did, but maybe he had a point. It wasn’t like her mother’s relationship had suffered from lack of love—if anything, what she’d seen of marriages over the years had involved too much love. Sick obsessions disguised as romantic love.

She thought of all the men who had shown up at the shelter. Not the violent ones, but the ones who stood outside crying, pleading for their girlfriends to come out. Apologizing over and over and promising to never do it again. The dirty truth was those were the men most likely to convince their wives to come back to them. The ones who couched their invitations to return for more beatings and more emotional abuse in proclamations of love.

So she had to give Nikolai credit. At least he’d been straight-forward about his intentions in marrying her.

“So you don’t think I’m an unfit mother?” she asked him, just to be sure.

“No,” he answered instantly. “I did not tell Kevin to say those things to you. I have seen you with Pavel and I know you will be very good mother. This is why I want to marry you.”

Once again, not exactly the most romantic thing she had ever heard, but considering the situation, maybe it was time for her to give up on her old notions of romantic love.

She went over her list of the classic signs of abuse and was surprised to find that though Nikolai’s offer was unorthodox, it wasn’t exactly abusive.

Still, she tested the water to make sure.

“Marco,” she said, floating the name like a toy boat into their conversation.

His face hardened. “What about him.”

“If I marry you, would you use whatever connections you have at Indy PD to put him back on his regular rotation?”

“Why?” he asked, his voice hard with suspicion.

“Because Marco doesn’t deserve to lose his beat, that’s why,” she answered.

Nikolai’s jaw set. “I do not want you with someone else while pregnant with my baby.”

She shook her head. “This is none of your business, but just to cut this line of argument short, Marco isn’t my boyfriend. In fact it’s fair to say he never was. We went on a few dates, but we never slept together. And quite frankly, I don’t ever want to sleep with him.” She told him like she’d told Marco, “We weren’t a good match.”

Nikolai’s eyes ran over her face as if trying to gauge whether she was telling to truth or not, and Sam released an annoyed sigh. “I don’t think this arrangement is going to work if you can’t take me at my word on things—”

“I believe you,” he suddenly said, voice grim as a storm cloud.

Sam eyed him suspiciously. “And you’ll make sure he gets put back on his rotation?”

Something ticked in Nikolai’s jaw, like she was making a very large ask, but nonetheless he said, “
Da
.” Then he asked, “We have deal?”

Sam eyed him nervously. She needed a reason to say no, but try as she might, the more she mulled it over, the more sense Nikolai’s proposal made. She’d get to be a mother to both Pavel and the baby inside of her, and she already knew Nikolai’s M.O. It wasn’t like he’d be interfering much with how she raised the children. Her children. A tentative hope sprang up in her heart. This really could be the most reasonable solution to their current situation.

Only one question remained. One that made her hold her breath as she asked it. “This marriage of convenience? What exactly would it look like?”

A confused look from Nikolai.

And she tried again. “Like what would you expect of me other than providing Pavel and this baby with a loving upbringing?”

His eyes flared, a certain heat appearing in their green depths without warning. “I want you as real wife in my bed,” he answered, bald and to the point. “If this is your question, that is my answer.”

Sam’s throat went dry at the thought of sharing Nikolai’s bed, not just for a night, but into the foreseeable future. She stirred down below, her breasts going impossibly heavy as her traitorous body became aroused at the thought of occupying the bed of a man who was basically blackmailing her into marriage.

“And what if I don’t want to be with you that way?” she managed to push out past the dry desert her throat had become.

He leveled her with a piercing stare and asked, “You do not want me that way? As husband in our bed?”

“No.” She forced the lie through her lips as quickly as possible. Because even if it wasn’t the truth, it should have been, and it would be—as soon as she got her treasonous body on board.

His eyes shuttered. “If you don’t want me, fine. We will sleep in same room, like husband and wife. But I will not touch you, unless you want me to…”

Sam clenched down below at the thought of his hands on her in an intimate way again. And she couldn’t help but think of the way he’d driven himself into her their one fateful time, making her explode with pleasure.

“…I can be gentleman,” he finished, bringing her back to the here and now. Where she’d just finished throwing up and shouldn’t even be thinking about sex with a man who was asking her to pledge her life to him, to sleep in the same room with him, not because he had feelings for her, but because he wanted a certain kind of set up for their unborn child and his current ward.

“Do you feel better?” he asked her.

She blinked, “What?”

He nodded towards the hand towel still resting on the back of her neck. “Are you sick still?”

“No,” she answered. Actually her nausea had completely disappeared. “I feel fine now.”

He nodded as if her stomach had simply obeyed one of his commands. “You will take day off. Rest,” he instructed.

But she shook her head. “No, we’re expecting a big shipment and we’re at capacity right now, so I want to make sure it all gets put away so we have everything we need when we need it. And our security guard gave me his two-weeks notice a few days ago, so I have to start actively looking for a replacement.”

She waited for him to tell her she couldn’t go to work. She found herself wanting an excuse to go back to actively disliking him. Something clear she could grasp onto like a controlling behavior or some sign that he’d become emotionally or physically abusive in the long run.

But instead he once again averted his eyes, before asking, “You really don’t want me?” The question was quiet… embarrassed.

And the vulnerable note in his voice sent her head into a complete spin. Her common sense and her gut warring over every psychological detail of her true heart’s answer. In the end, she opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

And apparently that was answer enough.

He stood in one abrupt movement and said, “I go on road tomorrow. You will give me your answer by time I get back Sunday night.”

Then he walked out, leaving her behind, stunned and still unable to answer his question. Even in her own mind.