Submit (The Underground Book 4) (11 page)

Taylor frowned. “I’m sure I won’t like your alarm. If it’s the one that came with the apartment, it’s almost useless. You’re going to need a better one. I’ll get someone to go over, check it out, and upgrade it. Give me your keys, and it’ll be done before you get home.”

Belinda nodded.

Done.

And she hadn’t had to fight very hard. She’d started out the day prepared to ask for forgiveness instead of permission, but it would seem her battle hadn’t been that monumental.

Thank God.

She needed to shake herself of Nikolav Andropov.

Now.

Before she lost her heart and her dignity.

»»•««

Anton picked up the phone and answered on the first ring.

The caller spoke before he had a chance. “Your father would like you to come to New York.”

Anton stared out the window of his apartment and took a deep breath. “His reason?”

“Grigory doesn’t have much time left, Anton,” Viktor said.

“I’m clear on that. But I need a few more weeks before I’ll feel comfortable trying this drug out on anyone besides my test subjects.”

“At this point, do you think it matters if your experimental drug works or not? Time is of the essence. We are out of it.” Anton could hear the lift in Viktor’s voice that indicated the man was nervous.

Anton exhaled slowly and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. His father’s right-hand man had a point. Anton didn’t like it, but it was valid.

“How long do you think he has?”

“Weeks. Maybe days. Hard to tell. He hasn’t ever fully shaken the pneumonia.”

Damn fucking pneumonia. The man survived all these years until Anton was closer than ever to perfecting his drug. Would he be taken out of this life by an infection no one could have predicted?

“Bring what you have. Do it now. He insists.”

Anton grimaced. The thought of injecting his father with an experimental drug that had killed nearly every subject he’d tried it on except two made him want to punch a hole in the wall.

But Viktor was right. It was better than nothing. If Grigory didn’t survive the initial injection, what would he have lost? A few weeks of suffering?

Anton glanced at the floor and considered his options. “I’ll be there by the end of the week.”

“Good. I’ll let him know.”

Belinda was exhausted on the way home. Working half the night, sleeping three hours, and then putting in another ten hours at the office had her dead on her feet.

The agent who drove her to her apartment was the same man who picked her and Nikolav up the night before when they’d been on the run. He didn’t say much, and she was grateful. Her ability to make polite conversation was almost nonexistent.

He parked on the street near the entrance, surprising her with his ability to find a spot. Her own car was in the garage under the building, where it had been for days while either Nikolav or the FBI shuffled her from place to place.

The agent introduced himself as Patrick, and he escorted her into the building and the elevator. On the way up to her fifth-floor apartment, he handed her a few sheets of paper. “The information about your new alarm. Taylor assigned a code. It’s on there for you. You can change it if you want. It was just to get it set up.”

Belinda nodded as she looked over the instructions.

When the elevator stopped, she led the way to her apartment and put her key in the lock, surprised to find the alarm didn’t start beeping as soon as she opened the door.

She frowned, glancing at Patrick.

“Nikolav probably didn’t set it.”

“Nikolav?”

“Hey.” The voice coming from inside her apartment made her push the door open the rest of the way and sigh. Of course. Did she really believe he would let her walk out that morning and leave things where they stood between them?

“All right. I’m off now. Someone will be on call if you need anything.” Patrick turned and walked back down the hall as if there was a fire. Smart man.

Belinda didn’t feel like having a confrontation with Nikolav right that moment, but since he had made himself comfortable in her apartment, she didn’t see how to avoid it.

She stepped inside and shut the door. “How’d you get in?” she asked him as she watched him set the alarm and turn the lock.

“I met Taylor here and waited while the guys installed the alarm.” He took her computer bag off her shoulder gently and turned around to set it on the sofa. “Did you stop by Haley’s office this morning to pick up your stuff?”

“Yes.” This man missed nothing.

“You’re exhausted.”

“Yes, I am. All I want is a long, hot bath, a glass of wine, and a good night’s sleep.” She stepped back toward the door, hoping he would get the hint.

He didn’t. In fact, he headed for the kitchen area instead. “I’ll pour you a glass. You start the water.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’m sure you need sleep too. Go on home.” There. It didn’t get any more direct than that.

He found a bottle of Merlot on her counter and turned around to hold it up. “This one?”

She lowered her shoulders. Stubborn man. “Nikolav, go home. You don’t have to wait on me.”

“I know I don’t. But I’m going to anyway. And you’re not staying here alone. So don’t start arguing that point. Either I stay here with you, or you come home with me.”

She sighed.
Fantastic. Great
. Just what she didn’t need.

His damn perfect muscles bulged as he twisted in the corkscrew, facing her direction from the kitchen island. The T-shirt he wore this evening was white. It made his skin look darker, but it didn’t hide the definition of his pecs.

She licked her lips, remembering what it felt like to be pressed against all that hard male skin last night.

When the cork popped free, she flinched.

“I don’t need a babysitter, Nikolav.”

He smiled as he poured the red wine into a glass. “Do you have any idea how guilty I’d feel if I left you here alone and something happened to you?”

She rolled her eyes. “I have an upgraded alarm, new locks, and a fucking agent sitting out front somewhere, undoubtedly. It’s a guarded apartment.” She didn’t mean to cuss, but this was ridiculous.

He looked as if he was going to laugh. “You think the Bratva cares about any of those things?”

“You think you can single-handedly take them on if they breach all levels of defense?”

He glanced down at his body and then at hers. “Better than you. What do you weigh? One ten? Soaking wet?”

She didn’t respond.

“Do you own a gun?”

“No.” She shuddered. She’d never fired a weapon in her life.

He reached behind him and pulled something from the back of his jeans.

She gasped when he held up a glossy black handgun and set it on the counter. “I win.”

“What the fuck, Nikolav? I don’t want that in my apartment.” She stepped forward, peering at the damn weapon at closer range. “You’re going to end up shooting me with that when I get up to use the bathroom.”

He chuckled. “Never.”

With her gaze pinned to the gun and her heart pounding, she reached for the wine, took a sip, and turned to leave the room. Arguing with this infuriating man was obviously impossible.

She had no interest in rehashing last night. She was tired and sorely in need of warm water on her muscles. And she could no longer see the value in trying to get him to leave. So she left him standing there and headed for her bedroom.

It took her a moment to decide if she wanted to lock the door or not, and then she decided against it and headed for the master bath. She didn’t even turn on the light. Instead, she relied on the small night light plugged into the wall next to the sink, flipped on the water, and shed her clothes. Moments later, she slid into the tub with her glass of wine and a groan.

If she had the energy, she would have lit a few candles, but not tonight. She didn’t even care if she ate. She was that worn out.

With her eyes closed, she relaxed as the water rose around her, fighting visions of the man currently doing God-only-knew what in her apartment. Her nipples beaded as the warm water lapped over them, or maybe they reacted to memories of Nikolav squeezing her entire breast last night, flicking his thumb over the tip.

She jumped when a knock sounded on the door. “You want me to order something to eat?”

If he opened that door…

Shit.

She swallowed, covering her breasts with both hands in case he decided to come on in. She wouldn’t put it past him, considering how high-handed he was.

“Whatever you want.” She should eat. She hadn’t eaten anything for hours. But the thought of sitting down to dinner with him made her cringe.

Perhaps they could ignore last night’s antics altogether and leave it in the past. But she wasn’t sure he was capable of that yet. And she didn’t want to find out. So dining with him was out of the question.

“Pizza? Chinese? Burgers?”

“I don’t care, Nikolav. I’m too tired to care. Do whatever you want.”

Silence met her sharp words.

She held her breath. Finally, she heard him walk away. Good.

She stayed in the tub longer than necessary, using the warm water as a way of avoiding whatever awaited her on the other side of the door. But eventually she was wrinkled, and the water was too cool to be comfortable anymore.

She lifted out of the tub, grabbed her towel, and patted down her hair and body before wrapping it around her and heading for the door. She didn’t have clothes in the bathroom. All she could do was hope Nikolav wasn’t on the other side of the door in her bedroom.

Luck was on her side this time. She was alone. And the bedroom door was shut. She grabbed clean panties, flannel sleep pants, and a tank top. When she was dressed, she pulled a sweatshirt over her head too. Anything to put a barrier between herself and Nikolav.

Because Lord knew there was no way she would be able to completely ignore him and slip into bed without causing a battle.

Two more minutes in the bathroom, and she had lotion on her face and the tangles worked out of her hair.

With a deep breath, she grabbed her empty wine glass and headed for the living room.

Nikolav sat on the couch, his bare feet on the coffee table and a slice of pizza in his hand. The television was on some sports channel, but the volume was low. He twisted around to face her. “Wasn’t sure what you liked on your pizza, so I got supreme.”

Her stomach growled at the scent and sight of gooey cheese, meats, and veggies.

Nikolav set his half-eaten slice back in the box and stood. He rounded the sofa, took the empty glass from her hand, and proceeded to refill it from the bottle still sitting on the island.

Too nice.

She didn’t comment, though. It seemed easier. The elephant in the room was growing by the second. Eventually one of them was going to have to break the stalemate and breach the subject of last night.

She grabbed a plate from the cabinet and headed for the living room. The pizza was from her favorite local spot—a perfectly constructed Chicago-style deep dish that made her mouth water. After sliding two pieces onto her plate, she settled into the armchair, tucking her legs under her and taking the first bite.

Nikolav set her wine glass on the coffee table and resumed his spot on her sofa.

They ate in silence for several minutes, but she felt like a ticking bomb was about to detonate.

And she was right. The moment she finished her second slice, he spoke. “You’re mad.”

“What? No. I’m tired.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Uh-huh. So you’re excited to have me here.”

“Didn’t say that. I’ve already told you to go home. Arguing any further would be futile on my part.”

“I promise to sleep on your couch and keep my hands to myself.”

That was it. She couldn’t take another moment of the weirdness. Without a word, she stood, grabbed her glass of wine, and headed for her bedroom. She took several long drinks on the way down the hall and set the nearly empty glass on her dresser when she came in.

Beelining for the bathroom, she brushed her teeth. When she returned, Nikolav was leaning in the doorway. “Talk to me.” He crossed his arms loosely, looking far too relaxed and far too sexy at the same time.

She moaned as she headed for her bed and pulled back the white comforter and sheet. “I’m too tired to talk to you. Please. Leave it alone.”

“I’m having trouble reading you.”

“What’s to read?” She slid under the covers, wearing far too many layers of clothing. Normally she slept in a tank top and panties. Not a sweatshirt and pants. She would suffocate in minutes if she kept all that on.

“Are you mad at me for practically attacking you last night without permission, or are you embarrassed about talking about it?”

“Oh. My. God. Nikolav, I am not having this discussion with you. Get out.” A flush crawled up her face as she sat up straight and pointed at the door. Could she be any more mortified?

He stepped closer, shaking his head. “I apologize. It was inconsiderate of me. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that. I’m sorry I threw myself at you without giving you a choice in the matter.”

Her face flamed. And she was sweltering in the sweatshirt already. She fisted her hands in the sheets and barked out her next words without thinking. “I’m sorry you threw yourself at me and then found me lacking enough in some fashion that you couldn’t bring yourself to finish the deed. It was humiliating. And I would so kindly appreciate it if you left me alone and didn’t bring it up again.”

She yanked the covers back and climbed from the bed to drag her sweat shirt over her head and drop it on the floor and then shimmy out of her stupid flannel pants and leave them where they lay too. Far more comfortable, she climbed back onto the bed, kicking the comforter out of the way and pulling the sheet up to her waist. Why the fuck did she give a shit if Nikolav saw her half naked? It obviously didn’t affect him in any way that mattered.

She turned onto her side, facing away from him, and prayed he would leave.

Futilely.

Nikolav made quick strides to her side of the bed and sat next to her butt. Seconds ticked by while she held her breath to avoid breathing in his scent. Why did he have to smell so damn good?