Acquainted, page 5
She might have despised her father and everything he stood for, but to hate her legacy was to hate her mother and her family, and she loved them dearly.
“And you?” she asked, turning in his arms to face him.
“London,” he offered a second later. “Lived there most of my life.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“Business,” he said with a shrug. “There was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”
That answered her question, but his answer only managed to spark more questions. “Do you miss London?”
“Presently?” he asked with a smile that was blatantly sexual. “Not at all.”
It was ridiculous how those words stirred something inside her. As if she wasn’t already sore, but she was far from sated now that she was awake again.
She straddled his legs, feeling his erection as she settled on his lap. “What are you curious about?”
To give him credit, he did try to maintain eye contact, but when she adjusted on top of him to a more comfortable position, his gaze dropped to her breasts as his hands settled on her waist, gripping tight.
She wasn’t sure whether it was to ground himself or to keep her exactly where she was.
“Why’d a girl like you come down here alone?” He actually looked as if the question bothered him. “If you were mine, I’d never let you out of my sight.”
Shuffling back just enough so she could get her hand between them, she maneuvered his boxer briefs down and wrapped her fingers around the heavy length of him, slowly gliding her fist up and back, almost smiling when he stifled a groan.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she whispered with a shake of her head.
“I know enough that I want to know more,” he said back just as quickly, his gaze lifting to her face.
For a moment, she had been able to pretend this was just an innocent thing between two consenting adults—that it was just a fling that would end as soon as her time here in Punta Mita was over—but staring into his eyes right then … he almost had her believing there was more to this than that.
That he wanted more, and this was only the beginning.
But that wasn’t possible.
Not when she lived in Manhattan, and he lived wherever, and it seemed very unlikely they would ever cross paths again after this.
For now, though, she would enjoy this time with him for the few hours they had left.
Chapter 5
Three months later …
No matter what, there were just some places Vera didn't think she would ever be comfortable going.
The local jail was one of them.
She had never stepped foot inside one, and if she could help it, she never would. But today, she was willing to make an exception for the man who was supposed to be walking out of those two frosted doors at the top of the stone stairs.
Mentally, she was still in Punta Mita—in her suite with a man she found impossible to get off her mind—even as she was physically back home, sitting on the hood of her car as she waited for her brother.
Unlike Ruslan, Kaz was a bit of a hothead and tended to act recklessly even though he knew there would be consequences for his actions. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, no matter what anyone had to say about it. Usually, he aimed his lack of respect toward their father—something Vera understood completely—but his recent bout here wasn't just because of his usual ignorance of the rules their father set out for him.
It was because he had fallen in love with the very last person he needed to have feelings for.
Vera wasn't usually one to judge, but it was hard, even for her, to ignore what was blatantly staring them back in the face because of her brother's obsession with the Italian girl.
That obsession would get him killed.
As the doors opened ahead, Vera looked up, adjusting her sunglasses, and profound relief coursed through her as a familiar dark-haired man came strolling out, walking as if he had been inside for a visit rather than locked away for the past four months.
Smiling, she hopped off her car and walked toward him with open arms. "You need to shave."
Usually, if he wasn't completely clean shaven, he only allowed himself a few days’ worth of growth on his jaw before he had it trimmed. Now, he looked as if he hadn't shaved in weeks.
Months, even.
An amused smirk curled the left side of his face as he stroked a hand over the slight beard he had before he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tight. She did her best to hide her relief that he was safe and free, especially knowing that this rift between him and their father wasn't quite mended yet.
"How are you?" he asked, touching the top of her head—something he had done ever since he'd grown taller than her several years ago.
She thought of Alfie and the few days of bliss she'd experienced before being called back. She didn't think he wanted to hear anything about it, so she shrugged. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? You were the one locked up, after all."
Walking around the car, she climbed into the driver's seat, glancing over at him as he slid into her car. "I'm fine," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
But Vera wasn't so sure he was.
Usually, when their father wanted to teach one of them a lesson, Ruslan was usually on the receiving end of his harsher punishments. He was the one who suffered the most.
Vasily craved Vera's love, and Kaz was the golden child—that was how it had always been from the moment he found out about Ruslan's ... choice in partners.
When Kaz decided to fall in love with an Italian girl—especially one from the Gallucci family who had been their enemies for more than a decade—Vera hadn't thought for a second that their father would blindly accept it, but she also hadn't thought he would react in such a way that sent Kaz to jail.
"We both knew Vasily would punish you, but this ..." She paused, shaking her head. "He went too far."
Even now, Vera could still remember the day when Kaz had come to her for help. Violet Gallucci was with him, and they had no place to go and two angry fathers dogging their heels. She could still see the moment when Kaz made his choice, pointing a gun at Violet's father and daring him to try to take her away.
Except he hadn't had a choice in the matter—not after their father set him up.
"I underestimated him," Kaz said now, drawing her gaze over to him. "It won't happen again."
He sounded so sure, so confident—as he usually did—but that didn't make her feel any more at ease.
Biting her lip, Vera contemplated for a moment whether she wanted to broach the topic that had stewed away inside her ever since she'd showered this morning and dressed for the day. But knowing what she did, this would be her only chance to talk to him about it.
"I talked to Rus ..."
"Yeah?" Kaz finally responded when she didn't elaborate, glancing in her direction.
"I don't know what the two of you have planned, but I don't want you to do anything stupid—or at least not more than what you already do."
Even she hadn't thought Kaz would walk away from Violet just because their father had thrown him in jail, but she still worried all the same.
"I'm just taking some time away and letting the waters settle before I'm forced to meet with Vasily. He'll give me that. And even if he doesn't, he won't step foot where I'm going."
Vera was afraid of that.
In his own way, Kaz would exacerbate the problem, and Vasily would not take that well.
"You have to be careful, Kaz," she said. She glanced in his direction as they finally crossed the bridge over to Coney Island where his apartment was. "It's not just our father who has it out for you now."
She didn't need to remind him about the Italians who were still gunning for him, including the entire Gallucci family whose memories were long and viciousness was renowned.
Ten minutes later, she turned into the parking lot of his building, parking out of view. For a while, she stared out the windshield toward the harbor. "Are you sure this is what you want to do, Kaz?" she asked, trying to imagine what he must be feeling. "Is she really worth all this?"
She tried to imagine what it was like to love someone like this. Unequivocally.
Ready to take on the entire world if it stood in her way.
Vera had never experienced a love like that. All consuming. She thought she had ... once, but he had merely shown her that love was impossible for people like her whose lives were deadly and the moral line was gray at best.
"We wouldn't be here if she wasn't," he said softly.
She turned to look at him—really look—to see if she could find a different truth reflected in the gray eyes they shared, but when she looked at him, all she saw was the same steely determination that had been there months ago when he was willing to take on an army for the girl he loved.
There was no standing in the way of that.
"You know how to reach me if you need to," she said softly, making sure he understood that he could call her whenever, and she would do whatever she could for him.
Because he was her brother.
Family.
And she would do anything for the people she loved.
Alfie could be anyone he wanted in Punta Mita, Mexico.
Tourist was at the short end of that list.
He couldn't remember the last time he hadn't felt the need to look over his shoulder—when he didn't have to be Alfie fucking Shelby and have his fists at the ready to prove it.
Vera had given him that.
But as fond as the memory was when he thought back on it—and he found it on his mind more than anything else lately—it was still all built on a lie.
Sure, it wasn't all a lie. He hadn't ever outright told her anything that wasn't true, but omission was just a part of the details. And it was the things he didn't say that were the most important.
Like that he knew her name and where she was from.
That he knew her father and hated his bloody fucking guts.
Or that he was currently helping get the brother she loved so much out of the city before that same father could get his hands on him.
Alfie prided himself on not being close to anyone. On making sure his hands were always clean of another person's family drama.
Business was business and nothing more.
But when he had gotten the phone call asking for another favor, it went beyond his curiosity about the Russian and his Italian girlfriend. As soon as the favor had been asked of him, he pictured Vera in his mind.
Her smile.
The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous.
The unapologetic way she had invited him into her bed.
No, it wasn't just business that had him waiting on the private airstrip with his hands folded in front of him. It was purely fucking selfish, and he didn't care that it was.
At ten minutes till eleven, headlights drew his gaze from the grass fields, the car rolling to a stop mere feet from him. He turned and watched as three car doors opened—the Markovic brothers stepping out of two and the lone daughter of Alberto Gallucci climbing out of the third.
He had to admit a part of him was curious about the girl. Sure, he had done business with the Galluccis a time or two in the past and still did on occasion when the mood struck him, but he hadn't met Violet in all that time.
Not that he'd ever needed to.
She was a woman, and very rarely did the Italians ever let women be involved in the family business.
The girl was about what he expected—short, blond, and pretty enough—but he was more impressed by the fact that she was here than her looks.
"I wanted to see for myself," Alfie said as he started toward them, his cane clicking against the cement.
"See what?" Kaz asked distracted as he pulled bags from the back seat of the car.
"If she would be at your side," he said, nearly smiling at the glower Violet shot in his direction. "Words are easy. Actions ... that's when you see what a person is worth."
Growing up as the only daughter of a man like Alberto Gallucci, she had undoubtedly lived a privileged life, and he had a hard time believing that someone like that would be willing to give up her comfort for what Kazimir had to offer.
But she wasn't one to back down, it seemed. "Yeah?" she asked, meeting his gaze head-on. "Then what am I worth?"
Alfie smiled. "Guess we'll find out, won't we? Safe travels. And Kaz? Watch your back. You've been out for only a few days, and you're already making noise."
"I'll keep that in mind," Kaz said in return.
He turned to his brother then, the big bastard standing mute and observant. They spoke in rapid Russian, both assuming Alfie wouldn't understand. Both being wrong.
That was the thing about assumptions.
Most people heard Alfie's accent, one-hundred percent pure Cockney through and through, and fit him into a box. They underestimated him, and while that usually wasn't much of a problem for Kaz—they were friends, of a sort—it was deadly for his enemies.
Because the minute someone underestimated Alfie was the minute they signed their own death certificate.
He could have gone then. His job was done. His jet would ensure that Kaz and his little Italian would get where they needed to go with no trouble, but Alfie found himself lingering. Not because he had more to say to Kaz, but because he had a couple of questions of his own for Ruslan, and there was no better time to ask them than when he was distracted with something else.
"Chicago, innit?" Alfie asked once Kaz and Violet were on the jet, and only he and Ruslan were left standing there.
Though he had done a good amount of business with Kaz over the years—one-point-two million last quarter after a successful arms deal with Siris—he wasn't often around the elder Markovic brother.
Ruslan didn't venture very far away from Brighton Beach and the club he ran there—or perhaps, it was the lovers he kept under his employ that he didn't like to venture too far from. Whichever, Alfie didn't particularly care one way or the other.
"Where your brother is going with his missus," Alfie elaborated.
"The Boykov family is untouchable," Ruslan answered with a shrug, his expression unreadable, "even to my father."
Because Vasily knew how to make enemies out of any bloke he crossed paths with. "Careful he's not coming after the rest of your family?" Alfie asked, though not because he was particularly worried about Ruslan, considering the man looked as if he could take on a tank and live.
Ruslan looked at him then, as if trying to gauge how trustworthy Alfie was, and perhaps it was because he had perfected the art of looking bored that he actually answered, "If he wanted to kill me, he would have done that years ago. And he wouldn't dare touch Vera."
"Right. That's the sister, eh?" he asked, trying not to appear too interested. But he was curious—too curious.
Because while he hadn't thought much about it in Mexico—he'd been thankful for it actually—he'd been curious ever since he'd gotten back home and realized that Vera had been alone down in Punta Mita.
She was a Markovic, and whether she was involved in the family trade or not, enemies wouldn't care about that. That would actually make it easier to make a mark out of her to get to her father if someone was determined enough.
Where was her security? If she was his, he'd have a man on her just for his own peace of mind because he knew what men were capable of when they were trying to make a point, and while he usually steered clear of women and children, others wouldn't.
Ruslan glanced over at him before nodding. "Yeah, she steers clear of Vasily."
"Smart girl," Alfie muttered to himself, though curious why that was.
It made sense, in a way, considering he very rarely heard anything about Vera, and even with what little he found once he'd looked into her, it didn't seem as if she was very close to her father at all.
Ruslan blew out a breath, seeming to forget who he was talking to as he circled around his car. "If we weren't her brothers, she probably would have disowned us too."
"Afraid you'll get her caught up in this drama?" Alfie asked with a nod of his head at the jet taking off down the runway.
"She doesn't agree with the lifestyle itself."
Wasn't that fucking great.
"Be seeing you, Alfie," Ruslan called as he slid into his car and shut the door.
He undoubtedly would be seeing him, but probably sooner than he expected, and not because he was doing another favor for Kaz.
Chapter 6
A week had passed since she had come back from Punta de Mita and dropped her brother off at his apartment, and Vera already missed the simplicity of her three-day vacation.
She missed the freedom and happiness and being able to do whatever she wanted without worrying that someone was looking over her shoulder, ready to report whatever she did back to a man she still refused to speak to even though Kaz was finally out of jail. While Vasily had stopped ringing her phone for a couple of days after Kaz’s release, now he was up to calling her twice a day without fail.
She missed waking up to the sound of the ocean, fresh fruit waiting for her in the mornings, and tanning by the pool without a care in the world. And the fruity cocktails that always tasted just a little bit differently when on vacation than when she went to her local bar.
But most of all, she missed the one person she hadn’t expected to still be thinking about.
He was supposed to be a distraction—something to take her mind off New York and everything that was waiting for her here. Instead, he invaded her every thought until he was all she could think about.
The only thing she had left of him was his name and the memory of what he looked like when he smiled, or when he kissed her cheek, or the look of bliss on his face when he was fucking her. She probably missed that most of all, and she wasn’t the least bit ashamed to admit it.
Now that she was back home, Vera couldn’t help but wonder why she hadn’t bothered to get his phone number when she had the chance.
Such a waste.
"When you say attractive," Frances asked, leaning against the door of Vera’s office with a folder in one hand and her phone in the other, "how attractive would you say?"
