NIKOLAI (Her Russian Protector #4) (24 page)

She sipped the fizzy liquid and
shrugged. "Someday you'll be able to talk about
giclee
art
prints like a boss. You'll read books or Google the hell out it.
That's what we do when we love someone and want to show them how
much we support them."

Across the gallery, Ivan
projected a calm exterior as he chatted with Dimitri and Benny, but
Nikolai recognized the rigid stance as one of discomfort. Like him,
Ivan kept his hands down and out of sight when he was in public and
among strangers, hiding the heavy tattoos marking him as a
criminal.

"It's different for you two,"
he said finally. If anyone could understand the complexity of his
relationship with Vivian, it was Erin. "You met Ivan after he'd
reformed himself and after he'd recreated himself as someone you
could be proud of, as someone you want to marry."

"Vivian wants to marry you. She
loves
you
." Erin eyed him
carefully. "You love her. I know you're afraid of holding her back.
It's the same thing Ivan feared when we got together, but I went
into our relationship with my eyes wide open. Clearly Vivian has
done the same thing."

He heard the slight
disappointment in her voice. "You don't approve."

She avoided his gaze. "What I
think doesn't matter. Vivian's made up her mind and I support her.
God knows she's more aware of what and who you are than the rest of
us. If she can accept it, we'll learn to accept it,
too."

High praise
indeed
.

Before he could tell Erin that
he wasn’t as terrible as his dark reputation would have her
believe, he made eye contact with Vivian. She grinned at him and
took a few steps in his direction, but a man who looked vaguely
familiar moved into her path. He gestured toward her paintings as
he spoke and Vivian's eyes lit up like Christmas.

"That's Yuri's friend. The one
who helped him save Lena's dad by finding that painting her cousin
had stolen," Erin clarified.

"Niels." The name of the
extremely wealthy Dane finally came to him. Polished and suave,
Niels chatted Vivian up like a pro. "What is he doing
here?"

"Apparently, Lena showed him
some photos of Vivian's work. He was so enamored he changed his
winter vacation plans to be here. He actually beat Lena and Yuri
back to Houston." She glanced at her watch. "They should be here
soon."

Nikolai let a low sound escape
his throat as he watched the billionaire art collector and
businessman move even closer to Vivian. Once, Yuri had confessed to
tagging along with Niels and a friend to one of their privately
owned sex clubs. Niels had certain
tastes
. Billionaire or not,
he'd flatten that damn Dane if he slid even one inch closer to
Vivian.

"Calm down," Erin said in that
mothering tone of hers. "Vivian only has eyes for you. She probably
doesn't even realize that he's trying to flirt with her. Like it or
not, Vivian has to network. A guy like that could do amazing things
for her career."

He heard the silent censure in
Erin's voice.
Don't hold her
back
.

"I would never do anything to
jeopardize her future."

Erin laid a gentle hand on his
arm. "I know you wouldn't."

He kept his gaze on Vivian who
had now attracted another pair of wealthy looking art buyers. "This
will probably be my one and only appearance at one of her
events."

"Why?" Erin sounded
shocked.

"For the same reasons, I try to
cover all this up when I'm out with her." He rubbed his finger
across the tattoo decorating one of his fingers. "I know what
people think when they see these. I don't blame them, you
understand, but I won't let my mistakes ruin her chances of making
it."

"Nikolai," Erin said with a
laugh. "You're really overreacting on this one. Vivian is an
artist. Hell, she's practically expected to have a mysterious
history and a torrid love affair with a bad boy."

Nikolai wasn't so sure he liked
being called a bad boy. It seemed so very childish and silly,
especially considering all the things that he'd done. Deep down
inside, he hoped that Erin was right. He'd never forgive himself if
loving Vivian and making her his wife ruined the promising art
career ahead of her.

"Shit." Erin hissed the curse
word so quietly he barely heard it.

His gaze snapped in the
direction she was looking. Detective Santos strode into the gallery
wearing a very nice suit—and a very angry scowl. When Santos found
him in the crowd, the detective glared daggers. The mean, warning
glower promised a knock-down, drag-out fight.

So much for my plans to play
nice…

Chapter Fifteen

The moment I spotted Eric crossing the gallery
I knew we were about to have a nasty fight.

Benny must have noticed the look on Eric's face
because she seemed to appear out of thin air to intercept him with
a smile. Those two had been friends so long that Eric wouldn't be
rude to her, especially not in her obviously pregnant state. When
Dimitri joined them, I knew I had just enough time to carefully
extricate myself from the conversation I was in with Niels
Mikkelsen and the two art-loving Houstonians who wanted to
commission pieces for their new home.

As deftly as possible, I slipped out of the
conversation with promises to return and stepped into Eric's line
of sight. He pinned me in place with his angry stare. I had a very
good idea of what had him so pissed off.

I glanced at Nikolai and Erin. Her face a mask
of concern, she shot me an encouraging smile, but it was Nikolai
who had me the most worried. Though he generally tried to stay out
of my family business, I had a feeling that line was about to be
wiped away. Soon, we would be a family of two—and I doubted Nikolai
was going to make room in our new, tiny circle for Eric.

Nikolai and I shared a look that said
everything. If I wanted him to, he'd come over right now and handle
it. Because he loved me, he was standing back and waiting for me to
decide what I wanted.

Inhaling a steadying breath, I approached my
cousin. "Hey, Eric."

"Vivian." His gaze fell to my left hand and the
ring finger that remained bare. "We have to talk."

"Um…" I searched the gallery for a quiet space.
"Let's go in the back. There's a storage area that's
private."

As we left Benny and Dimitri, she reached out
and gave my hand a surreptitious squeeze. I so needed her
reassurance. I had a sinking feeling that Eric was about to lose
his shit, and I was going to be the target of his fury.

Safely tucked away in the storage room, I
closed the door and leaned back against it for support. Eric and I
stared at one another. He was so angry his face was flushed and his
chest heaved with every breath. Finally, I sighed. "Just say
it."

"What the fuck are you doing?"

I flinched at his growled question.
Remembering that morning in my kitchen when he'd told me that I had
to find someone to protect me, I reminded him, "
You
told me to go to Nikolai for
help."

"I didn't tell you to fucking marry the
guy!"

"Eric, please—"

"No." He swept both hands out in front of him.
"I'm not letting you do this. I'm not letting you throw your life
away on a piece of shit criminal like that."

Hearing him describe Nikolai in such an awful
way made my gut churn.

"Why, Vivian? Of all the men on God's green
earth, why the hell are you marrying that one?"

"I love him, Eric."

His mocking laugh echoed in the dimly lit room.
He swore in Spanish, the bitterly spoken words stabbing at me like
ice picks. "Will you listen to yourself? Do you understand how dumb
that is? He's a fucking mobster, Vivian."

Squaring my shoulders, I stepped away from the
door. I'd had just about enough of Eric talking to me like that. "I
know what he is—and I don't care."

"Oh my God!" Eric threw his hands in the air.
"You cannot possibly be this stupid and naïve."

"Apparently I am."

"Wow." He looked utterly disgusted. "I always
thought you were an apple that had fallen far from the family tree
but now I see that you're just as crazy as your mother."

It couldn't have hurt worse if he'd slapped me.
"Screw you, Eric."

His cheek twitched and regret darkened his
eyes. "Vivi—"

"Get out!" My snapped reply did little to
dissuade him from trying to change my mind.

"No. He hasn't even put a ring on your finger.
Just tell him you made a mistake and you want to call off the
wedding."

"No."

"Vivian, this isn't a joke. When you were just
dating him or sleeping with him or whatever the hell you two were
up to, it was one thing. But this? This isn't happening. Look, I
know you're excited about the money and the jewelry and the
cars—"

"Are you insane?" I interrupted his screed. "Is
that what you think? That I'm with Nikolai because I'm some
money-hungry whore willing to spread her legs for a sports
car?"

"What else am I supposed to think, Vivian? This
guy has basically been grooming you to be his mistress since you
started college."

I'd never wanted to punch anyone so badly in my
entire life. "Shut up. Just. Shut. Up."

"No. You listen to me—"

"No," I interjected furiously,
"
you
listen
to
me
. Whatever
you think is happening or has happened between us is some sick,
twisted figment of your imagination. It's none of your damn
business, but I've never been with any man, Eric.
Never
. Nikolai has never
tried to cross that line with me. Not once."

The knowledge that I was still a proud
card-carrying member of the V Club seemed to shock Eric. "But
he—"

"He what, Eric? He helped me when my
grandparents died, and I was all alone? He made sure I finished
college? He gave me a job and a way to support myself and my dreams
of becoming a successful artist? Who the hell else stepped up to
help me? Oh, that's right. No one!"

Now he was the one visibly flinching. My
father's side of the family had written me off as a very young
child. I hadn't even known Eric existed until I was a teenager.
Even then, reformed as I was from my juvenile delinquent ways, his
mother, my aunt, wouldn't let me in their house. I wasn't even
supposed to trespass into their neighborhood.

"That's not fair, Vivian." His voice had
softened now, but I was over it.

"Yeah, well, Eric, I know better than anyone
that life sure as hell isn't fair."

"Life may have dealt you a shit hand, Vivian,
but that doesn't mean you have to throw it all away on that fucking
mobster."

"Eric, I've made my decision. It's
done."

"Then don't bother sending me an invitation. I
won't be coming to your joke of a wedding."

Radiating disappointment and anger, Eric
stormed out of the storage room and left me alone. My eyes burned
so badly. I fought the urge to cry. Trying to compose myself, I
turned toward the back wall and dabbed at the corners of my eyes.
My throat was so tight but I refused to let a painful sob
escape.

As I fanned my hot face and tried to forget the
ugly things Eric had said, I heard the door behind me open. Certain
it was Nikolai come to rescue me, I glanced over my shoulder—and
nearly fainted as my father strode into the room.

"
Mi'ja
."

The sound of his raspy voice sent a chill right
through me. Mouth dry and heart racing, I pivoted quickly and put
more space between us. "Stay away from me."

He chuckled, the dry, harsh sound like nails on
a chalkboard to me. "I think we've been apart long
enough."

Prison hadn't seemed to age him much. If
anything, he looked fitter and leaner than I'd remembered him. His
dark skin seemed paler to me but I doubted men in maximum security
prisons got much time outside. He'd gotten his hands on a nice suit
and shoes, probably to blend into the crowd. The long strands of
black hair that had once hung to the middle of his back had been
chopped off in a simple crew cut.

Glancing around for a weapon, I spotted a box
cutter on one of the worktables and hastily snatched it up. I
extended the gleaming blade and held it out in front of me. "I'm
not joking. I will cut you if you try to get any
closer."

He didn't move but he cracked a smile. "I
always knew you were a fighter like me."

"I'm nothing like you."

"Don't sell yourself short, kiddo. You and me?
We're two peas in a pod."