A Very Russian Christmas Page 5

  "Will you come see me in Russia?"

  "Of course!"

  "Promise?"

  "Yes." So happy for Cait's skyrocketing career, he kissed her cheek and continued to spin her around the dance floor. He took care to keep her on the far side, away from the live band. Though sensitive to loud noises, she took great pains to attempt to function like a neurotypical. Learning to dance and going out with her tight-knit group of friends was one way she had attempted to tackle her fear of social situations. She might struggle with subtle emotional cues, but she had quickly mastered the art of dance and seemed to love the constant motion.

  Just after nine, he sneaked her off the dance floor and out to the lobby where they handed over their valet tickets. With the family photographs out of the way earlier in the evening, there was no reason for them to stick around any longer. They had done their duty to their mother by posing in her holiday snapshots and faking the perfect happy family. Their part played, it was time to bail.

  "Would you like to come over for breakfast?" he asked as she slid behind the wheel of her coupe. "I'll make pancakes."

  "Okay. I'd like that."

  "Great. Um—let's say nine or nine-thirty?"

  She blinked twice. "Which one, Ty? You have to pick."

  Rolling his eyes, he gave one of her long blonde curls a playful tug. "Nine-thirty."

  "All right. I'll be there at nine-thirty. Should I bring something?"

  "Just your smile, sweetness." He gave her one last goodnight smooch before shutting her door and walking back to his idling car. The drive to the penthouse he had purchased earlier that year in the Museum District wasn't very far. Too tired to deal with the parking garage, he pulled into the curved drive and chose to use the valet. He pressed a nice tip into Tony's hand because it was so cold out and headed into the building.

  The concierge smiled at him as he neared the main desk. "Good evening, Mr. Weston. How was the gala?"

  "It was nice. Do I have any mail, Joel?"

  "Yes, sir." Joel grabbed the letters from his slot and passed them over. "Here you are, Mr. Weston."

  He glanced at the addresses. "My sister will be stopping by in the morning. You know how she can be about showing up too early."

  Joel chuckled knowingly. "I'll make sure Casey knows to gently prod her into the elevator so she isn't waiting down here for half an hour again."

  "Thank you."

  "It's my pleasure." Joel pointed to the seating area in the lobby. "There's a gentleman waiting to see you, Mr. Weston. He said he's a friend but he wasn't on the guest list. I thought he might be a colleague of Mr. Novakovsky's so I had a pot of tea sent out to him while he waited for you."

  "A friend of Yuri's?"

  "He's Russian. I just assumed."

  "Thanks." Ty tapped his mail on the concierge desk and backed away to see this mysterious visitor. He had taken exactly three steps into the main area of the lobby before his heart stuttered in his chest and the breath rushed from his lungs. "Vasya?"

  The giant Russian rose from the leather sectional where he had been reading a magazine. He made a simple V-neck tee and blazer paired with jeans look insanely sexy. "Good evening, Ty."

  "Um…hi." At a loss for words, Ty stared at the man who had the starring role in his dreams. "I thought you were in Russia with Yuri and Lena."

  "I was."

  "But?"

  "But I decided it was time for me to take a vacation."

  "To Houston?"

  "It is where you are—and that is where I want to be."

  Mouth dry, Ty wondered at Vasya's change of heart. "Why?"

  Glancing around, Vasya asked, "Can we speak somewhere more private?"

  "Sure." Ty decided he really wanted to hear whatever Vasya had to say. "You can come up to my place."

  "I would like that." Vasya bent down and retrieved a red gift box adorned with gold ribbon that had been hidden from Ty's view.

  "It's this way." Trying not to get too excited about the gift Vasya held, Ty led the Russian hunk to the elevators and retrieved his keycard to activate the private access to his penthouse suite.

  The doors had barely closed before Vasya reached out and traced the lapel of his tuxedo. "You look very nice tonight."

  "If I had known you were going to be in town, I would have made sure you had a ticket to the gala."

  "That is not my crowd."

  Enclosed in the small space with Vaysa, Ty grew intensely aware of the bigger man's body heat and the intoxicating scent that emanated from him. He wanted to slide closer and bury his nose against the curve of Vasya's neck to inhale that deliciously masculine smell, a mixture of leather and spice that drove him crazy.

  "It could be your crowd." He instantly hated the neediness that filled his voice. "If you wanted it to be."

  Vasya's thumb drew a lazy circle on his neck. "Let's talk first."

  Talk? Ty had hoped for a little more than talking but he would take what he could get from Vasya, especially if there was a promise of something more. The man had shown up at his building and waited for him. Surely that meant Vasya was having second thoughts about rejecting his advances on the yacht.

  Once inside his penthouse, Ty shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket. "Would you like something to drink? A glass of wine? A beer? Coffee?"

  "I'm not staying that long."

  Disappointment arced through him. "No?"

  "No." Vasya approached him, stopping so close they were breathing each other's air, and presented him with the gift. "Merry Christmas, Tyrone."

  He accepted the box and smiled up at Vasya. "Thank you—but I can't take this."

  The Russian's jaw hardened. "Why not?"

  Ty touched Vasya's strong forearm and marveled at the hard muscle beneath his fingertips. "Because I didn't get you anything," he admitted, feeling suddenly bashful.

  "Oh." Vasya shrugged those broad shoulders. "It's not my Christmas yet. You have plenty of time to return the favor."

  Not his Christmas yet? It dawned on him that Vasya meant the Orthodox celebration that occurred in early January. "Well…okay. If I still have time to shop for you, I can take your gift."

  Vasya's massive hand settled over his, preventing Ty from opening the box. "Wait until I'm gone."

  Surprised by the instruction, he glanced up into the Russian's pale blue eyes. Mesmerized by the icy shade, he nodded. "Are you sure you don't want to stay for a drink?"

  Or the night…

  "I shouldn't."

  "Why not?"

  "Because we're going to do things differently," Vasya stated matter-of-factly.

  "How so?"

  Vasya dragged his thick finger along Ty's jaw and brushed it across his lower lip. "How long was your last relationship?"

  "Relationship? I don't really do those." He squirmed under Vasya's intense scrutiny. "I had a boyfriend I loved when I was in high school but that started and ended during a summer."

  "So three months?"

  He gulped nervously. "About."

  "I want more than three months."

  "Do you?" He shivered inside as Vasya's smoldering gaze swept him.

  "Yes." The Russian tapped the tip of his nose. "I think that's the way you protect yourself. You jump in and out of bed and rush things before they have time to develop."

  "Do I?" In the back of his mind, Ty thought he should probably be pissed off at Vasya for insinuating that he was so promiscuous, but there was just something so calming about the way the bigger man cupped the back of his neck and brushed his fingertips up and down his skin.

  "I've watched you for months. I refuse to be one of those men you fuck and abandon. We're not going to do things your way."

  Ty swallowed hard. "We're not?"

  "Nyet. We do this my way—or we don't do it all."

  "I really, really want to do it your way."

  Vasya grinned. "Patience."

  He rolled his eyes at the mistaken double entendre and playfully pinched Vasya's arm. "I meant dating." />
  "Are you sure?" The Russian looked dead serious. "I warn you now, Ty. I'm not playing around with you. If you say that you are mine, then you are mine. Understand?"

  "Oh, yes." He toyed with one of the buttons on Vasya's blazer. "So—how does your way work?"

  "First, you put my name on your list of approved guests. I'm not waiting in your lobby anymore."

  "Okay," he agreed excitedly. Vasya's aggressive manner sparked something primal within Ty.

  "Then I pick you up tomorrow and we have dinner."

  "And then?"

  "And then I bring you home."

  "Home?" He deflated a little. "That's it? Do I get a good night kiss at least?"

  The corners of Vasya's mouth lifted with amusement. "At the very least," he promised.

  Ty thought that sounded better. "Okay. Dinner and a good night kiss is good. Actually, it sounds like an old-fashioned romance."

  Vasya broke into a full grin now. "Well, baby, it won't be that old-fashioned."

  The endearment washed over him like sunshine. "No, I suppose not."

  With a couple of well-placed steps, Vasya backed him up against the nearest wall. An average-sized man with a lean swimmer's build, Ty didn't often feel small, but boxed in by that hard, wide chest, he had nowhere to look but straight up at the giant who towered over him. Heart racing and lightheaded, he watched the slow descent of Vasya's mouth. He couldn't remember feeling this excited since his first kiss.

  Except there was nothing fumbling or uncertain about Vasya's technique. He was all man, all brawn and so impossibly powerful. He kissed like a master, his skilled tongue darting between Ty's lips to taste him. Gripping Vasya's arm, Ty surrendered to this alpha male who seemed intent on capturing and keeping him forever. Right now, Ty couldn't imagine anything better.

  When their feverish kiss finally ended, they were both breathing hard. Vasya placed a gentle, tender kiss to Ty's forehead before straightening up. "I'll pick you up at eight tomorrow."

  "Okay." His tingling lips were barely able to form that one word.

  "Good night, Ty."

  "Good night, Vasya."

  Leaning against the wall for support, Ty watched the Russian stud leave his apartment. Butterflies went wild in his belly as he let himself dream of building something real with the mysterious and complicated man. The idea of an old-fashioned romance, one where Vasya treated him like something precious and respected him, sounded so very good.

  Carrying the box to the couch, he sank down onto the cushion to save his shaky legs and carefully untied the ribbons. He lifted the lid—and laughed out loud. Inside the box sat a traditionally decorated matryoshka. Amused by Vasya's sense of humor, he turned the nesting doll over in his hand to examine it.

  Wondering if there was anything inside, Ty carefully separated the two halves and discovered a smaller doll. He separated that one and was rewarded by a small package wrapped in white tissue paper. Setting aside the doll, he tore open the tissue paper and discovered an exquisitely handcrafted leather bracelet. He ran his fingers over the braided strips and along the sterling silver tag dangling like a charm.

  Bringing the small tag closer to his eyes, he read the two initials inscribed on one side—V and T—and the message on the other one. From Russia, With Love.

  Exhaling happily, Ty slid on the bracelet and dropped back against the couch. There was no stopping the giddiness that bubbled out of him and made him grin. He didn't know where this thing with Vasya was going but he couldn't wait to get started!

  Catch up with Ty and Vasya in a full-length novel to be released in Fall 2014!

  All I Want For Christmas

  Nikolai

  Sticking to the shadows of his restaurant, mob boss and restaurateur Nikolai Kalasnikov leaned his shoulder against the wall and watched his staff cutting loose and enjoying a well-earned night of carefree partying. As hard as they worked during the year, they all deserved to eat good food, enjoy the open bar and dance until they dropped. Two and a half hours into the party, some of them looked like they were just about to reach that point. Whether it was the free-flowing cocktails or the lateness of the evening, he couldn't tell.

  His amused gaze turned heated as it fell upon Vivian Valero. With her head thrown back in laughter, she presented such a tantalizing vision. The emerald shade of the lacy dress she wore complemented her black hair and bright blue eyes to utter perfection. He instantly recognized the diamond bracelet adorning her wrist as the one he had given her last Christmas. They matched the earrings dangling from her ears, the same set he had gifted her on her birthday.

  As if she sensed him watching her, Vee glanced away from the small group she chatted with and smiled at him. Bewitched by her beautiful face, he returned her friendly look. One mischievous little wink from her and his heart raced. The cherry red hue on her lips tempted him greatly. If he kissed her, how would she taste? Sweet, he surmised. Intoxicating.

  Refusing to surrender to the dangerous yearning he felt toward the young woman he guarded from afar, he broke their shared gaze. Their friendship was complicated enough without him looking at her like a lovesick puppy.

  Nikolai spotted one of his enforcers lumbering through the kitchen entrance. He checked the black leather stretched across Sergei's broad shoulders for any signs of precipitation but saw nothing. He hoped the wintry mix of rain and sleet had finally stopped for the night. He wanted everything to go perfectly tonight—and bad weather wasn't part of those plans.

  Without having to be beckoned, Sergei knew he was needed. The great big bear of a man edged the dance floor where couples were laughing and swinging their hips. The enforcer's hawk-like gaze swept the restaurant even as he delivered his update. "Everything is arranged in the garage, and the drivers have already started lining up out back. Bobby wanted me to tell you that he sent over extra taxis, just in case."

  Arranging rides to and from the Christmas party was another way he took care of his people. Quite a few of the kitchen staff relied on public transportation. Those who had their own vehicles often chose the free rides so they could indulge in the open bar without worrying about how they would get home.

  "Good." He clapped Sergei's back. "I'll be in the office getting the bonuses ready. Ask the DJ to start winding down the night."

  "Done."

  Moving into the rear offices of Samovar, Nikolai unlocked his office door. He punched in the code for the safe and withdrew the sack of envelopes holding the holiday bonuses he gave to every employee. He based them on the years they had been at his restaurant, making sure to give extra to the workers who had busted their asses the most, gotten the highest reviews from customers and to the ones who were having difficulties at home.

  The bonuses in hand, he returned to the restaurant's main floor. He took a moment to enjoy the view of the festively decorated space. Despite all that he had accomplished in life and as high as he had climbed, he still had moments where he was taken aback by his successes. While he would like nothing more than to shake off the stain of his involvement in Maksim Prokhorov's crime family, Nikolai understood that was a dream. He was in too deep—and there was no escape.

  Here, in the real world, he had managed a rare feat. He kept one foot in Houston's underworld and one in the light of day where he was acknowledged as a successful businessman—and whispered about as perhaps something a bit more. It was a delicate balance but one Nikolai had maintained so far.

  Blending into the crowd of Samovar employees and their dates were the men who formed his Houston branch of the crime family. Some of his captains—Artyom, Ilya and Evgeni—had attended with their close-knit crews. Nikolai's own hand-picked men—Sergei, Danila, and Kostya—were constantly moving inside and outside of the restaurant, keeping an eye on things and making sure that nothing spoiled the night.

  A flutter of green lace caught his eye. One of the kitchen boys spun Vivian around the dance floor and held her entirely too close for Nikolai's liking. Dark-haired and dashing, Aaron was a med
ical student who picked up extra hours at the restaurant whenever possible. Lately, Aaron seemed to be putting his name on the schedule only when Vivian was waitressing. It was a coincidence that hadn't escaped Nikolai's notice.

  Hating the streak of jealousy that blazed through him, Nikolai clenched the stack of bonuses. He wanted to be the one gliding Vee around the dance floor. He wanted to be the one making her laugh and smile and the one she playfully kissed under that spring of mistletoe. All he wanted for Christmas was Vivian.

  Inhaling a slow breath, he silently listed all the reasons he couldn't claim her as his woman. His entanglement with Houston's criminal underbelly ranked top of the list. His history with her incarcerated father, a notorious enforcer for an outlaw motorcycle club tied in with the Guzman cartel out of Mexico, was a close second.

  And then, of course, there was the secret he had been keeping from her for more than a decade. A secret that would kill their friendship and send her fleeing from him forever…

  Young and innocent, she was a wildly talented artist with the whole wide world ahead of her. He couldn't have what he so desperately wanted with her but he could protect and support her. Anything she wanted or needed was hers. She didn't even have to ask. He prided himself on anticipating her needs and fulfilling them before she had a chance to seek his help. Despite knowing what was best for her, Nikolai couldn't stop the painful ache that twisted his heart anytime she was near. Like now…

  "You're not dancing!" A bit breathless with cheeks flushed from laughter, she came to stand in front of him. "The party is almost over. If you're going to dance—"

  "I don't dance, Vee." He inhaled that soft lavender scent that followed her everywhere.

  Her smile faded and her expression grew concerned. Unlike everyone else, she didn't fear him enough to keep her hands to herself. She reached out and placed a gentle hand on his forearm. "You know it's all right to let yourself have fun every now and then. You don't always have to wear the mask. You can just be you, Kolya."

  The searing heat of her touch burned right through the sleeve of his suit jacket. His gaze settled on those pouty lips that had just issued a nickname only she dared to use in public. Outside his closest friends only Vivian had earned the right to speak to him with such friendliness and ease.