HER RUSSIAN SURRENDER (2 page)

She shrugged. “I mean beauty can come in handy. Like when I’m arguing with a man and he’s all hyped up and security’s not available, sometimes he won’t act as much of a fool because I’m pretty, I guess. But a few times it’s made things more difficult. Like sometimes men underestimate me because of it, and that’s no good.”

Her answer brought up so many more questions that Nikolai’s mind temporarily stalled out. Why was she arguing with so many men to the point that she had to call security? And why did she care if anyone underestimated her?

She glanced up at him. “Do you feel like that too, sometimes? Like being all hot and hunky gets in your way?”

“No,” he answered truthfully. “It only helps. Especially with women.”

“Woooow! That must be so nice for you!”

She gave him an impressed look, but it felt to Nikolai like she was laughing at him. He did not like this feeling.

“It is,” he replied.
Usually
, he added silently with grim annoyance.

“Your calendar’s stuffed with dates I bet. How great!”

He regarded her coolly for a second, trying to figure out if he was really supposed to respond to that. But Black Americans, he knew, could be different. His cousin, Alexei, was married to one who insisted on calling him Nikki and conversations with her were often confusing like the one he was having with this woman now.

“I do not go on dates,” he informed her, deciding to indulge the conversation topic, more out of curiosity than anything else. The woman was strange but she was engaging, and Nikolai found himself wanting to stay in her company despite the many bizarre things that had come out of her mouth over the course of their short conversation.

“Seriously?” she asked. “Why not?”

“Dates are not necessary. They are silly custom. If a woman wants one, I say to her, we are both adults, why waste time with silly custom?”

She looked enrapt now, like she was hanging on every word he was saying. “And what do they say?”

“They agree of course, and then we have very pleasurable time together.”

The look she gave him now was the opposite of impressed. In fact, he could have sworn he saw pity in her eyes.

She shrugged and said, “I guess we don’t have much in common then. When I’m working late, I’m always like, wouldn’t it be cool to be one of those people who goes on dates? Seriously, how nice would that be? To like, you know, go to dinner and a movie. But here you are with plenty of women to date, and you don’t even take advantage of all your opportunities.” She shook her head. “What a waste.”

Nikolai narrowed his eyes at her, not knowing whether to be confused or insulted or both. “You are…” he informed her, “strange. Very strange.”

“Yes, I know,” she answered with that odd lilt of hers. “But it sounds like you’ve got a little strange going on yourself. Like, is that seriously all you do? Not go on dates with the women you invite out to your balcony? How does that work out for you love wise?”

“I do not love,” he answered. “Love is another silly custom. I don’t—how you say—believe in it.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Love?
Love
is a silly custom you don’t believe in? You seriously just said that? How can you not believe in love?!?!”

Nikolai inwardly grunted, happy he only wanted this woman for a one-night stand. She was obviously a romantic. One who would be much more trouble than she was worth if he were the sort who took women out on dates.

He stepped closer to her and said, “Trust me, you do not have to believe in silly customs to give woman much pleasure. Come upstairs. I will show you.”

His words must have had some affect on her, because she waved a hand in front of her face, like she was trying to cool herself down.

“Okay, you spit
amazing
game. Well played, Mount Nik. You’re like an expert in getting women all hot and bothered, I can tell.”

“Thank you,” he said carefully, because he had no idea how else to respond to that seeming compliment.

She slightly turned away from him, her eyes scanning the party.

“Hold on, I have someone I want you to meet.”

“You have someone you want me to meet,” he repeated. “Who?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she answered, her eyes still surveying the room. But then her face lit up. “No, no, no, I take that back. I see her. She’s definitely the one.”

She waved enthusiastically at a tall, beautiful brunette in a black evening dress who was standing with a couple of blondes also wearing black evening dresses. When she got the brunette’s attention, she motioned for her to join them like they were long, lost buddies.

Nikolai’s curiosity was fully piqued at this point. The truth was, the brunette, with her high cheekbones and classic features, was much more his usual type, but why would the woman in the green dress be calling her over? Perhaps for a threesome?

“Hi! Hi! Hi!” the minx in the green dress said when the brunette reached them. “What’s your name?”

“Katrina,” the brunette answered, smiling cautiously as if she weren’t sure if the woman who’d called her over was just friendly or insane.

Nikolai was beginning to wonder the same thing.

“Katrina. That’s a beautiful name,” the woman whose name he still didn’t know said. She looked up at Nikolai. “That’s Russian, right? Like you?”

“Yes, but I’m American,” Katrina answered, throwing Nikolai a flirty smile.

“Well, Katrina, let me introduce you to Nikolai Rustanov. He’s a fan of private conversations on balconies, and pleasurable times with ladies, and, and…” She looked up at him, her face and tone completely serious. “What else?”

“Hockey,” Nikolai answered, wondering what she was getting at.

The woman in the green dress snapped her fingers, like he’d just given her the perfect answer. “And hockey! Do you like hockey, Katrina?”

“I love hockey,” Katrina answered. She turned fully toward Nikolai now. “I have season passes for the Indiana Polar, and you’re actually one of my favorite players.”

“That’s awesome,” the woman said, patting Katrina on the shoulder. “I’ll just leave you two to it, then.”

“Oh, okay,” Katrina answered with a wave, seeming more than happy to be alone with him.

“So is that a friend of yours? Someone who works for you?” she whisper-asked Nikolai when the woman in the green dress was out of earshot.

Nikolai didn’t answer, just watched the strange woman walk away with a scowl on his face.

“Excuse me,” he began to say, preparing to go after her, but then his cousin Alexei appeared and got in front of him.

Alexei was a businessman, not a hockey player, but his face was a match to Nikolai’s in that moment. Same Rustanov bone structure, same green eyes, and for some reason, the same grim look.

“What is it?” he asked, immediately knowing something must be wrong. The Alexei he knew would have teased him mercilessly about getting turned down in such a ridiculous fashion by the minx in the green dress.

“Fedya is here,” Alexei answered, his voice low. “Your assistant came to me since you were… otherwise engaged.”

Nikolai inwardly cursed as he watched the beautiful woman disappear into the crowd. No, he wouldn’t be going after her right away as planned.

He’d have to deal with his brother first.

3

S
ay what you want about the crazy palatial design scheme of Nikolai’s Rustanov’s house—and its owner
, Sam thought,
but at least it had lots of nooks and crannies for hiding
.

She knew this, because she was currently nestled in a little laundry alcove just off the kitchen. From what she’d seen of the house, it might be the only “normal” room in the place, with straight ahead white clapboard cabinets and the same kind of front loading washer and dryer sets that could be bought at any major appliance store in America.

The regular room with its ungilded anything brought back some measure of the inner peace she’d lost during her conversation with Nikolai Rustanov. Also, it was just far enough away to be out of earshot from the catering staff, and hidden enough that no one would bother to look for her here, including the house’s hulking owner—well, not unless he just really, really felt the need to do some laundry in the middle of his party. But mostly it was perfect for a secluded phone conversation with her best friend, Josie.

“You did WHAT?” Josie yelled on the other end of the phone.

“Josie,
Josie
, it made total sense. He was coming on way too strong, right? So I thought, why not set him up with someone else, and you know… run? Like, really fast.”

“Sam…” she could almost see her friend rubbing her temple in exasperation. “We’ve talked about this. If someone at one of these parties starts flirting with you because you’re wonderful and gorgeous, what are you supposed to do?”

“Hit him up for a donation,” Sam answered glumly. “But this wasn’t some old money millionaire! The guy is fry your brain hot. And huge. Seriously, the locals call him Mount Nik! It was hard to even look at him. Matter of fact, I’m surprised I was able to talk to him as long as I did, because all my alarm bells were going off.”

“Alarm bells, like you think he might be abusive?” Josie asked, sounding worried.

“No, not abusive… just scary… you know… alarm bells scary.”

Josie let out an audible sigh. “Okay, I know you don’t get out much, which makes me wonder about this cop you’ve been seeing…”

“It’s not his fault,” Sam quickly said, defending the local beat cop she’d eaten takeout with three times over the past month. “It’s early days and Marco is really respectful of my schedule. Plus, it’s not like we don’t see each other every day when he’s doing his rounds. He always makes sure to text me, so I can come out and say hi.”

“And do you?” Josie asked.

Ugh, her bestie was so good at asking the questions Sam didn’t want her to ask. “When I’m not too busy, I do.”

“So that would be like, what? Once a week?”

“Sometimes twice,” Sam said. “And more over the next few weeks, since the shelter’s empty and I’ll just be catching up on paperwork. My point is you shouldn’t blame Marco for not taking me out. I’m sure he would if I wasn’t so busy.”

“And
my
point is when someone sets off alarm bells inside of you—not because they’re abusive or about to punch you out for harboring their wife—then that usually means you like the guy.”

“Really?” Sam asked.

“Yes, Sam, really,” Josie answered, like she was talking to an idiot. “I still get all goosey inside if I let myself look at Beau too long.”

“Yeah, me, too. No rando, but your husband’s crazy hot.”

Josie laughed. “See, why can’t you be like that with this guy.”

“I told him he was beautiful!”

“And then you told him being attractive wasn’t all that great.”

Sam screwed up her mouth. “Yeah, I guess I did say that.”

She sighed into the phone, a wave of homesickness washing over her. “I’m just no good at this, at flirting
or
fundraising. Can I just come home to Alabama now? The shelter’s already open and doing great. And Nyla is doing a terrific job. She could easily take over as director.” She could hear the slight hysteria in her voice now, but kept on going. “Plus, I’ll be such a good play auntie to that baby you have on the way. I’ll babysit whenever you want, just please let me come home?”

Josie laughed. “Nyla is only an intern. You don’t even pay her!”

“I didn’t even pay you at first, but now you’re running Ruth’s House Alabama!” Sam reminded her.

“Yes, and you made me at least get my college degree before you felt safe enough to leave it in my hands. This is your dream, Sam. You’re back in Indiana where it all started, opening another shelter. At least give it a year before you give up on it.”

“I’m not giving up on it, I’m just…” Sam trailed off, not exactly knowing how to finish that sentence.

“Homesick,” Josie supplied for her. “And a little scared about being back in Indiana, even if you are making your dreams come true.”

Exactly. That’s what she loved about Josie. She got her. Really got her. “This conversation isn’t making me any less homesick. I miss you so much, girl.”

“I miss you, too,” Josie told her. “But Beau and I went through a lot of trouble to get you into that party, so go back out there and flirt with the money like a good non-profit director.”

“Well, I’ve already got my coat thanks to the hockey player’s assistant. If I go home now, I can probably get some to work done on another grant application.”

“Or maybe you could get your Russian hockey player to fund the Indiana Ruth’s House like Beau funds our Alabama location.”

“Beau does that because you’re his wife. The Russian hockey player was all, like…” Sam pulled out her best Swedish Dolph Lundgren pretending to be a Russian accent, “‘I do not date. I just want to bone you down.’”

“He said that?!?!”

“No, not exactly,” Sam admitted. “It was more like a bunch of stuff about pleasure, then I called the other woman over so he could bone her instead of me.”

“You are a trip and you have me down here rolling on the floor, but I’m going to cut you off now because I know you’re just using me to avoid hobnobbing with the people who could be giving Ruth’s House Indiana donations.”

“I’m totally not,” she protested. She totally was, but she thought it was truly unkind of Josie to point that out.

“Good, then you won’t mind if I hang up. Bye, Sam!”

“No, Josie, don’t hang up. Don’t—”

The phone went dead.

“…hang up,” Sam finished with a sad sigh.

She started to stand, but then stopped mid-crouch when the alcove’s door swung open with a quiet creak.

Sam’s heart froze. Was it Mount Nik? Had he found her?

But no… it was a boy, creeping through the open door into the dimly lit room.

A bi-racial boy, Sam realized when the light from the next room hit his face. He had golden brown skin and a wide nose that spoke to his African-American ancestry.

Sam took him in with wide eyes. He was painfully thin, but tall. Six, seven, maybe even eight or nine years old. His clothes, she could see even in the low light, were also dirty, covered in various stains. Further signs of neglect could be found in his hair, a mad nest of kinky brown and blond curls that looked like they’d never seen a pair of scissors, much less hair product. And even though he was ten feet away from her, he smelled, to use one of her Alabama bestie’s terms, “like a billy goat.” Like his current living situation didn’t give him regular access to a bath or shower. Like true neglect.