HER RUSSIAN SURRENDER (32 page)

She gripped the receiver, which she’d hung on to, tight in her hand. “Let. Me. Make. My. Call,” she commanded. Not backing down. Not showing an ounce of fear beyond that initial gasp.

Myriad possibilities for keeping her here, for making her stay long enough for him to recast the spell that had finally brought them together the night before, ran through his head. And if that didn’t work, there were always threats. Threats that would make her wish she had never dared to cross him. He could have Marco transferred again, refuse to let her adopt Pavel. He could…

…stop this, he thought, a sad realization sweeping through him. Because none of those threats would make her want to be his real wife. They would only prove to her that he was the same as his father.

He stepped back and let her out of the trap he’d set up with his arms. “I will not let you make own way home. Of course I will make sure you return safely. I will make arrangements. Can you wait small time for me to take shower?”

Her nose flared with defiance, like she wanted to argue further with him, but in the end she nodded. “Okay,” she said.

And that was the last thing she said to him before they left Greece.

NIKOLAI TRIED TO KEEP HIMSELF from staring at his wife while they ate lunch on the plane ride home, but found he couldn’t. She looked like a portrait in the seat across from his, her eyes on the window to the left of them, so far away they didn’t seem to track the white clouds below, or notice that Dave, the flight attendant, had set down a plate of food in front of her.

He should have been enraged, and he was a bit. The way she’d cut off the trip with such a weak excuse—that had been salt on the old wounds he’d cut open last night. For her. He’d taken a chance and finally opened up to someone, a woman of all people. And for a moment, he’d felt truly rewarded when she’d come to him, called him
muzehnek
—only to knock him from her sky the next morning, like Icarus flying too close to the sun.

He gripped his silverware tight, thinking about her demand to come home this morning. He wanted to punish her for what she’d done. For cutting the trip short. For not eating enough breakfast then or enough lunch now.

But mostly he wanted to punish her for making him feel like this.

Watching Sam look out the window made his entire chest ache. Something between them had died this morning, he realized, and he had no idea why.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Dave asked, his return breaking through the heavy cloud that had settled over the silent table.

The attendant blinked with surprise when he saw Sam’s untouched plate of flat iron steak, smashed potatoes, and kale. “Was the meal not to your liking?” he asked.

Sam, who always seemed to have a kind smile for everyone who wasn’t him, rushed to reassure the distressed attendant. “No, I’m sure it’s fantastic. I just had a lot to eat back at the hotel.”

A total lie. She’d only nibbled on her breakfast back in the hotel room. He’d watched her not eat enough as he made the arrangements for them to come home early, and now Nikolai had to resist the urge to command her to finish her meal.

Instead, he handed his own empty tray to Dave and said, “Leave her tray on table.”

Dave nodded, picked up Nikolai’s tray only, said something about being in his small attendant cabin toward the front of the plane if needed, and then he was gone. Leaving Nikolai alone in the large main cabin with his wife…

Whose eyes went straight back to the window as if they had a rubber band attached.

A fresh torrent of rage surged through him. And for a moment, he regretted everything about going along with this silly plan to fix things with her, for ever trying to convince her to look at him differently.

He gripped the sides of his chairs, deciding he didn’t have to put up with this. He would go back to his seat. Devise a new plan. Figure out how to get back the woman who’d come to him last night. Make her talk to him, tell him why she was behaving this way.

“We need to talk.”

The unexpected sound of Sam’s voice lifted his eyes back to her, and he was surprised to find her now looking back at him from across the small table.

“
Da, zhena
. Let us talk,” he agreed. “Tell me what this is about. Please.”

Her gaze shifted away for a moment, as if his impassioned words were embarrassing. As if she were embarrassed for him.

“I have a little experience with international break ups and I know they can be… messy. I didn’t want to have this talk with you in the hotel room, in another country where I didn’t know the laws or have any recourse if you decided to, um… use your resources against me.”

He shook his head at her, confused. All he really heard in all she said were two words. Break and up. “You want to leave me. Again.”

She sighed. “Nikolai, last night. Was any of that real? Like, were you serious when you told me you wanted to be a good father to Pavel and this baby?”

“
Da
, of course. How can you doubt that?” he answered.

Her lips twisted as if he’d said something extremely naïve. “I get that a lot of what you said is probably true. Your background and the fact that you’ve had no therapy whatsoever probably makes it hard to distinguish between right and wrong. I’m a friend to people like you, Nikolai, and I will always do my utmost to understand what you’re going through. I’ll always try to be the best friend I can to you considering the circumstances. I hope you understand that.”

She was acting like he was some kind of lost cause. Someone who couldn’t be fixed, even by her.

“I don’t want friend,” he answered. “I want wife. You are my wife.”

“But I don’t want to be,” she said, quick and to the point, like a doctor delivering bad news. “Not anymore. Not like this. I want a divorce. And I want you to prove you meant what you said last night, by not siccing Kevin on me. I want you to agree to split custody and I want you to let me stay in Pavel’s life because he needs me, and I love him, and it would be wrong on your part to punish him because you’re angry at me.”

Nikolai blinked. It was like she’d pulled a grenade out, set it down on the table, and casually pulled out the pin.

“No,” Nikolai said as something inside of him blew up.

“Nikolai. It’s the healthiest thing to do,” she said, clasping her hands together tight. “The best thing for all of us. Please just let me go. I’m not the one to make this perfect family obsession you have happen, and there are plenty of woman—”

He picked up her tray and threw it across the cabin. “I don’t want other woman. You are my wife. You!”

“But I don’t want to be!” she screamed back at him. “I don’t want to be. So let me go! For the good of everyone, including you. If you really meant all those things you said last night, just let me go.”

She wanted a divorce. She didn’t want to be his wife. Nikolai breathed hard, his heart constricting, because he didn’t know what to do, how to handle this.

The problem was she was right. He’d do anything for Pavel. Anything for this baby. And the only way he could make her stay involved hurting her and her career irreparably.

But she was the mother of his child and at the end of the day, he must not have been as much like his father as he feared, because the thought of hurting her in any way—no he couldn’t. He let out a heavy, sad sigh.

“Okay… okay,” he said. “I will give you divorce. Split custody. Whatever you want, I will do.”

His words of concession made her close her eyes, and she breathed a sigh of relief, as if her most fervent wish had just been granted.

Seeing her do this cut Nikolai to his fucking core.

“I’ll just… I’ll just clean up the tray,” she said. “Before Dave comes back.”

“Did you have nightmare,
zhena
?” he asked before she could turn away from him.

His question brought her eyes up, and she frowned at him. “Nikolai, don’t…”

“I will give you divorce, but first you must answer my questions. Did I have nightmare?” he asked.

She shook her head, refusing to answer.

“If you want divorce,
zhena
, you will answer me,” he said. “Tell me truth, what did I do? Why don’t you want to be my wife anymore? Whatever it is, I will fix it.”

She looked at him for a hot, angry second before saying. “You can’t fix it. It’s unfixable. I can’t make you—”

She stopped and shook her head again.

“What?” he asked. “Tell me.”

Ignoring him, she went across the cabin and busied herself with picking up the tray. But he didn’t give up. He continued to fight for her even though she didn’t seem at all interested in fighting for him.

“Last night meant nothing to you,
zhena
?” he asked.

No answer.

“It was you.
You
who came to me.”

She rubbed a hand over her eyes as if she were exhausted, as if this entire conversation had made her weary. “Don’t,” she said quietly. “I already feel like enough of a fool for doing that. Don’t use last night against me….”

She seemed on the verge of saying more, but then she trailed of, and he could see her taking deep breaths. Purposefully calming down. But he did not want her to calm down. He wanted her to talk to him.

“You will not breathe,” he told her. “You will not make yourself calm. You will talk to me. Yell at me. Say whatever it is you don’t say this morning in hotel. Give me words. I deserve them.”

This only made her breathe even slower and deeper, and a few seconds later, when she stood up to face him again, she was the very picture of calm.

“No,” she answered. “You don’t deserve anything from me. We’re getting a divorce. We’re splitting custody of this baby like adults, and we will work out an arrangement for Pavel. You’ll agree to this because you’re not a sociopath, and that’s what a non-sociopath would do in this situation. So that’s the end of this discussion.”

She was right. She knew it. And he knew it. He wasn’t going to hurt his children, and he would agree to the divorce. He would agree to split custody. Later.

But right now, he’d be damned if he was just going to let her cut him up and walk away with a few yoga breaths.

Now it was he who became calm. Deadly calm as he closed the space between them and said, “You should have eaten your lunch,
zhena
.”

She threw him an annoyed look. “I wasn’t hungry.”

“This would be easier if you had eaten your lunch.”

Before she could ask the next obvious question, he had her trapped against the door that led to the rear bedroom cabin. Then he began his torture. With a single kiss.

39

S
am cursed herself for letting her profession cloud her instincts. She’d been prepared to stand strong against any argument Nikolai might offer against letting her file for divorce. She’d readied herself for yelling, threats—and though she suspected deep down in her soul that Nikolai would never lay a hand on her, there was a part of her that always braced for possible punches. Seventeen years with her mother and over a decade working in domestic violence shelters. There were just some things you couldn’t unlearn.

But she’d never learned how to deal with being kissed. At least not kissed the way Nikolai kissed her. Hot and urgent, like it was the end of the world and they’d both be blinked out of existence if she didn’t return his erotic overtures.

It screwed with her senses, never failed to take her reasoning skills offline. And instead of pushing him away, she found her hands clutching at his sleeves, bunching the material in her hands as his mighty body pressed hers hard into the cabin’s rear door.

Why did kissing him feel like such consolation now? Like she’d been out in the desert during their argument and he was now welcoming her home?

“Da, she now acts like real wife in all ways, just as I wanted.”

The sudden memory of those words made her heart scream with sadness, and in a fit of self-disgust she ripped her lips away from his and pushed against him.

But it was like pushing against a stone wall. Nikolai barely moved. “
Zhena
, don’t… don’t push me away.” His voice was ragged against her lips. “Talk to me. Tell me what I did. Tell me how to fix it.
Please
.”

She could stand up to any command this man gave her and throw it back in his face, but when he begged…?

She shook her head, wishing he were a different man. That she was a different woman, one who could be okay with a relationship built on sex without love. On manipulation with the ultimate goal being her complete surrender. She thought of the woman she’d fobbed off on Nikolai the night they met and knew there were a lot more like her waiting in the wings. Women who would be happy to have a rich husband, one who also happened to be amazing in the sack. There were a lot of women who would be satisfied with that, no love required.

“You can’t fix it,” she told him again, her body pulsing with desire. “This is the end, Nikolai. Please just let me—”

He hit her with another sizzling kiss, this one so hot, it pushed her head back against the door and made her back arch.

Nikolai quickly took advantage of her lifted pelvis, plunging his hand down inside her waistband. “Ride my hand,
zhena
.”

Oh God, she was lost, she realized, feeling her body become soft and pliable as soon as he touched her. Sam didn’t realize she was obeying his command until he said, “Yes, just like that.”

“Last time,” she gasped, flailing at straws to get out of this with some pride intact. “One last time and never again.”

His powerful hand pumped into her with relentless strokes. “
Zhena
, you’re so wet, so hot for me, every time I touch you—” he broke off with a frustrated growl. “How can you want to leave me? How can you?”

Of course the answer to that question was complicated, but the orgasm that soon overtook her wasn’t. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out and letting Dave know exactly what they were now doing in the back of the plane.

“So wet,
zhena
, so wet,” he whispered against her ear as she climaxed all over his fingers.