Her Russian Bodyguard, page 1
Her Russian Bodyguard
International Lovers, Book 1
Vanessa Booke
Contents
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Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Her British Knight
More to Love: Romance Book Club
About the Author
Also by Vanessa Booke
Copyright © 2021 by Vanessa Booke
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, brands, media, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction.
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Dedication
To my daughters, never settle. Always reach for your dreams. You never know where they might take you.
Love,
Mama
1
SOPHIE
“How do you say fuck off in Russian?”
I quirk an eyebrow at the tall, muscular figure standing guard inside the palatial space of my hotel room. My father’s most trusted security detail, Aleksei Michaelson, the current bane of my existence, stands looking hotter than sin as he struggles to form words. He shifts uncomfortably, drawing my eyes to the rippling pectorals beneath his thin gray shirt. I’ve caught myself admiring him one too many times.
Why does he have to be so fucking hot? It’s bad enough having him babysit me.
With each slight movement of his body, his muscles flex, sending a rush of heat down my skin. It should be a crime to look that good. He couldn’t be more irritatingly perfect with his long inky hair, sharp cheekbones, and delectable jawline that’s sent me into a masturbating frenzy more than once. Who could blame me? He’s the Russian version of Tarzan, with an equally wild look in his eyes. It’s no surprise to anyone who knows him that his nickname is The Russian Tiger.
I bite back a laugh as I watch the block of muscle struggle to answer—his dark brows furrow, highlighting the stark gray of his eyes. Lately, taunting him is the only amusement I have to occupy my days - thanks to my overbearing father. I’m 23-years old, but father dearest treats me like I’m three. It's not my fault my life is suddenly in danger. As the daughter of New York’s most beloved governor, my days have become a balancing act between death threats, paparazzi, and trying to lose my virginity.
Now, thanks to my father’s work, I’m stuck with tall, delicious, and totally off-limits, and I can’t think of anything worse.
“How long do you plan on standing there?” I ask, impatience dripping from my lips. “No one is trying to assassinate me in my hotel room.”
Aleksei shoots me a smug look of satisfaction. His confidence is positively annoying. He flexes his arm muscles just enough to draw my attention to them before arching an eyebrow at me.
“And no one will as long as I’m here.”
The promise of his words sends a thrill of excitement down my skin. The stone-cold Russian is not only my new babysitter but my constant shadow now. Normalcy has gone out the window since my father ran for a second term for New York governor. At first, I thought he assigned Aleksei to me for added protection, but now I’m starting to think he’s just my glorified babysitter — my father's way of trying to rule my life.
For now, I’m stuck with Aleksei until the men who’ve been threatening my father are caught. It wouldn't be so bad, except I can’t seem to control my libido around the Russian.
“I have to get dressed,” I say. “Can I have some privacy?”
Aleksei glances at me with a hesitant look before turning his gaze away.
“Suit yourself,” I shrug.
I slowly undress, fully aware that he could see me at any moment. Glancing over my shoulder, I catch him watching me as I slowly push my jeans past my hips. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows at the sight of me. Before I can think of something snarky to say, he turns his back to me, altogether avoiding the area of the room I’m standing in.
“Your father has a photo op this weekend,” Aleksei says, making small talk as he burns holes into a painting on the other side of the room. “He asked that I accompany you on your errands.”
Aleksei following me around while I shop for lingerie? No, thanks. No need to torture myself any more than necessary.
“I’m a big girl. I can run my errands.”
Aleksei mumbles something in Russian, and the sound of it brings a smile to my face. Maybe if I annoy him enough, he’ll leave me alone, and I can convince my father this extra security is unnecessary. I finish getting dressed in the bathroom despite the growing desire to show Aleksei precisely what he’s missing. When I finally finish, I find him speaking to another guard with the front door ajar. His words immediately cut off as I re-enter the room dressed head to toe in the most stunning red dress I could find. His eyebrows arch in surprise as I finger the dip of the front of my dress. I rarely wear my hair down, but tonight, my brown strands cascade down my face in loose waves that hit just above my shoulders.
“Ty krasivaya.”
Before I have the opportunity to ask Aleksei what he means, a catcall at the door interrupts us, reminding me we have an audience watching us. Aleksei growls, pushing the other guard away from the door opening and then quickly shutting it behind him. He presses his forehead against the door frame, muttering something indiscernible before turning his attention back to me.
“How do I look, Aleksei?” I press, slowly turning for him.
The elegant red dress I’ve chosen for my date this evening is bound to get a reaction out of any man. Hopefully, at least eight inches' worth. The thin fabric perfectly hugs all the right places, putting my curves on display. Aleksei’s gaze follows each of my movements as I show off all of my assets. He looks up at me with the strangest expression, sending a bolt of heat down my belly. He has no idea just how much he affects me. It’s infuriating.
His dark gaze grows with intensity as each minute passes.
“You’re staring, and it’s making me nervous,” I add, my voice sounding breathless.
Too bad he seems ambivalent to me.
“It’s perfect, right?” I ask, suddenly needing his approval.
His mouth opens for a second before quickly shutting. My frustration is palpable as silence fills the air between us as the two of us. Aleksei seems to struggle with what to say or whether to answer. I guess I can’t blame him. My father has fired men for less. Finally, after several torturous moments of silence, his eyes drink me in again, starting from the top of my head down to my newly purchased Louboutin heels. My traitorous heart races as he takes his time to look me over. I’ve never felt more naked, and I’m fully dressed.
“Good,” he says, clenching his jaw. “Fine.”
He clears his throat, diverting his gray gaze back to the portrait on the wall in front of him as if suddenly finding it the most exciting thing in the world. I’ve known Aleksei for nearly six years, but he’s never been much of a talker. I guess “good” is good enough. Irritation nips at my heels as I turn back to the dressing mirror to give myself one last once over. I need to look hot tonight, not “fine.”
There’s no way I’m coming home with my V-card still intact looking “fine.”
“What’s the special occasion?” Aleksei asks with a husky tenor.
He doesn’t know? The thickness of his accent sends an unexpected flutter in my stomach as I turn to answer his surprising question. He quickly turns his gaze away from me, his jaw tightening as I silently watch him. Somehow, I’m making him uncomfortable, and I relish it.
“A date,” I smile. “I have a fancy date tonight.”
“I see.”
Aleksei mutters something in Russian that might as well be Swedish. Am I imagining it, or does he sound disappointed? For the past six years, I’ve picked up pieces of Russian but not enough to understand much of anything other than yes, no, goodbye, and a few cuss words here and there. Derr`mo definitely sounds like a cuss word I’ve heard.
“Your father knows?” Aleksei asks.
As if I need his permission. Okay, maybe I do, but it’s bullshit.
“Of course,” I say, suddenly feeling nervous by his interrogation. Why is he so interested? “My father seems to know everything thanks to you.”
Aleksei smiles at me but says nothing. Despite the tragic tale of my love life, I have a date tonight. It almost seems impossible considering the rigorous background checks my matches have to go through because of my father.
Aleksei’s gaze flicks over to mine before dropping to his feet again. I hope he doesn’t plan on coming along tonight. That would be a real boner deflator. I’m finally getting laid, and there isn’t a thing anyone can do about it.
“Don’t even think about following me tonight,” I warn Aleksei. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s scared off a date.
I finish getting ready, ignoring the Russian Tiger hovering nearby. His presence is just another reminder of how much I need to get laid. I’ve gone crazy, lusting after my bodyguard.
2
ALEKSEI
“How long have you known the Windsor family?”
Maxim flashes me a smug grin as he leans back, crossing his hands behind his head as he drops the loaded question. We sit side by side inside the cramped surveillance car, waiting as we watch Sophie on her date. His question is just the beginning of his interrogation. The Brit couldn’t be more irritating.
“Six years,” I mutter, taking a long drag of air. It might as well be twenty.
“That’s a long time to be in love with the boss’s daughter.”
Maxim arches an eyebrow at me, but I ignore his implication instead, choosing to focus on the movement in front of us. Our unmarked car rumbles to life as I turn the ignition, following a pair of red taillights leaving the restaurant we’ve been staking out. If Maxim knew the sordid truth of my history with the Windsor family, he’d call me crazy. But I guess you’d have to be a little crazy when you’re in my line of work — and it’s no fucking secret that I’m the best.
“I’m not in love with her,” I finally answer, the lie falling so easily. “She’s under my protection.”
“Is that why we’re following Sophie on her date?” Maxim chuckles. “I thought the boss said no security tonight.”
“Change of plans,” I lie again.
My partner grows quiet at the sight of Sophie and her date several cars ahead. He nods toward the sleek black mustang that rolls to a stop in front of the Somerset Hotel. We’ve been tailing the two for the better part of an hour now.
“This is the most boring date I’ve ever been on,” Maxim whines. “Who is this guy?”
“No one,” I reply.
“Not to her. She seems to like her date,” he taunts. “They were sitting awfully close at dinner.”
I shoot Maxim a death glare, and he grins at me, throwing up his hands in defense.
“I’m kidding,” he laughs. “I think you need a drink, Alek.”
“You’re not very funny, Englishman.”
Maxim’s lopsided grin widens at me as he turns up the radio volume. His surprised expression grows as Sophie’s sweet voice fills the car's speakers.
“When did you bug it?” he says, his jaw slack.
“When you were busy grabbing snacks, I was working.”
“Touché.”
We sit in silence, listening to the sound of Sophie’s date droning on and on. From the moment she left for her date, jealously reared its ugly head. I should've kept her from going tonight, but guilt plagued me when I saw her excited face. I’ve done my research on Nathan Drake. He’s physically unimpressive, but sadly, there isn’t much dirt on him other than a string of porno subscriptions.
Sophie has no idea how beautiful she is. She could get any man.
A burning sensation fills my chest at the memory of her bright smile widening as the two stopped earlier at her favorite place to eat, Mario’s Italian Bistro.
“They’re not moving,” Maxim says.
Panic sets in as I strain to see inside the darkened car. Are they not getting out? It’s probably wishful thinking to hope that their date is ending this early.
“It’s too fucking dark,” I grunt, turning up the radio volume.
“There’s not much to see,” Maxim shrugs, obviously bored. “It’s cold. They’re probably just getting warm.”
The Brit chuckles, sending a rush of anger to my chest. Just getting warm? The customs may be different in Russia, but I’m not stupid enough to think they’re just sitting in the car having a prayer meeting in the darkness. I pull at my collar, suddenly feeling its restrictive coil around my neck. I can’t stand the thought of Sophie intertwined in someone else’s arms.
Why the hell did I let her out of my sight in the first place? It would’ve been easy to convince Sophie’s father that going out alone wasn’t a good idea. The threats against the Windsor family have only increased since Eric Windsor’s re-election campaign for governor.
“Careful, Alek, you’re going to break the damn thing,” Maxim says, cutting through my thoughts.
He nods to my white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. I let go, watching the rush of blood that once again breathes life into my fingers. I feel his eyes on me as I pull a pistol from my bag and check the magazine.
“Whoa, Alek. I’m not sure what they do in Mother Russia, but we don’t go killing boyfriends.”
“He’s not her boyfriend,” I growl. “And I’m not going to kill him…Maybe scare him.” I smile at the thought of interrupting their date. I promised myself this was just a flyby, but that was a lie. I’m willing to ruin Sophie’s date, even if she hates me.
“Well, this is entertaining,” Maxim says, handing me a flask. He knows I don’t drink. And yet, the cool liquid in the container still calls to me.
“Fuck off,” I growl, ignoring the drink in his hand.
He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
I watch him tip the drink back before shooting me a self-satisfied grin. His amusement only seems to grow as he watches me strain to see through the car window.
“I know I’m new to this gig, but I’m fairly certain you’re not supposed to be acting like this,” Maxim muses.
“Like what?” I scoff.
“Like a jealous boyfriend trying to mark his territory.”
“Ne vashe delo.” Mind your own business.
He grins. “I don’t speak Russian, mate.”
British fucker.
“Why haven’t you told her how you feel?” Maxim asks, cutting to the point.
“It’s complicated,” I grunt, sliding the gun into my ankle holster.
My irritation grows as Maxim stares, waiting for me to divulge my secrets. I’ve no interest in telling him my weaknesses, including my feelings for Sophie. I’ve spent the past several years watching Sophie from a distance. Pretending not to care about the one person who’s affected every choice I’ve ever made.
“I didn’t take you for one who’s easily scared,” Maxim says, lighting a cigarette. He offers me a smoke, but I decline. “I thought nothing scared you. Isn’t that why they call you the Russian Tiger?”
I growl in annoyance, and Maxim backs off with his invasive questioning.
“You know the cardinal rule, never mix business with pleasure.” There’s no way in hell I’m jeopardizing her safety while someone is threatening her life, especially when it’s partly my fault.
Maxim cocks his head at me, inhaling the cigarette smoke as it burns bright red in the night.
“You love her,” Maxim says, blowing a cloud of smoke out his nose. “You’re fucked.”
My entire body goes rigid at the sound of Sophie’s breathless sigh over the car speakers. Boiling anger rises in my chest at the thought of someone else touching her, making love to her. If I have any say, tonight I’m sleeping in front of Sophie’s door and never letting her out of my sight again. It’s my job to protect her, and I’ve never taken a job more seriously than this one.
