Loving the Lone Wolf. Ingrid Weaver
rubbed his eyes and lifted his head. He gave an involuntary start when he saw her. He scowled and pushed his chair back from his desk. “You’re late.”
When they were in private, Stephan made no pretense of affection toward her—he had moved on to other women well before his child had been born—yet it suited his pride to let people believe that Kelly was his.
It suited her, too, by providing her with protection. Because the men she had to deal with believed she was Stephan’s girlfriend, they knew they could look but not touch.
Her true relationship with Stephan was a combination standoff and balancing act. As long as he had Jamie, Kelly would stay with Stephan, and as long as she stayed with Stephan, he would demand that she earn her keep by singing in his club and occasionally helping him with his business.
It astounded her that she had once thought his accent was romantic and his brooding silences were sensitive. How could she have allowed him to touch her?
Yet Nathan Rand was a criminal, just like Stephan. How on earth could she have found Nathan attractive? Why hadn’t she found his touch repulsive?
Dammit, hadn’t she learned anything?
“The meeting with Rand took longer than I expected.” She walked past the fireplace with its carved marble mantel and gilded screen to the table that held an ornate silver samovar, another item that had supposedly belonged in an imperial palace. Moving mechanically, she drew a cup of steaming water and fixed herself some tea. Not that she had ever developed a taste for Russian tea, but she needed something to keep her hands busy. “I just got in.”
“Tell me what happened.”
She added some sugar to her cup and stirred while she gave Stephan a summary of what she had learned from Nathan. “I think we should look for someone else,” she finished.
“Why?”
“Rand wants a percentage of our profits. He says it’s insurance so he can trust us.” She kept her gaze on her swirling tea. Stephan’s only weaknesses were his pride and his paranoia, so the best way to get him to agree to something was to suggest the opposite. For the same reason, she didn’t want him to know that giving Rand a percentage was her idea. It was insurance for her—without money up front, Rand would be less likely to bail on the deal.
“That would work in our favor,” Stephan said. “I can delay paying him his share. What percentage does he want?”
“After I saw his setup, we settled on thirty-five.”
Stephan pursed his lips as he considered that for a moment. Kelly guessed he was probably thinking of ways to cheat on the percentage. “We won’t look for anyone else,” he said finally. “We’ll go with Rand.”
She concentrated on keeping the spoon from rattling against the cup despite the sudden jump of her pulse. That had seemed too easy. Now for the next gambit. “I’m not sure we should trust him. He’s very…contained.”
“Are you losing your touch, Kelly?” Stephan lowered his voice slyly. “Or do Rand’s preferences lie in another direction?”
The implication that Nathan wasn’t heterosexual was so absurd, Kelly almost lost her concentration. The man put out pheromones that would be unmistakable to any female who possessed a pulse. She set the spoon down on the silver tray beneath the samovar. “Neither. He doesn’t seem to want supervision.”
“It’s not his call. We have too many customers depending on this shipment. If Rand says he doesn’t want supervision, he might have something to hide. We’ll have to keep a close eye on him until my merchandise is delivered. I’ve decided to bring it in next Friday.”
Kelly caught her breath. Friday? That was only a week away. In seven days, the nightmare would be over. And the seed of suspicion was planted. This was what she wanted. The pieces were falling into place better than she could have imagined.
Because while Stephan worried about trusting Nathan, and Nathan worried about trusting Stephan, Kelly planned to betray them both and disappear with Jamie.
The sheer daring of her plan terrified her. She knew how ruthless Stephan could be. If she failed to get away this time, she was certain she wouldn’t get another opportunity. He tolerated her presence in Jamie’s life because of their child’s age, but if he suspected for an instant that she was planning to double-cross him, he had the wealth and connections to move Jamie someplace where she would never find him.
Her hands trembled at the thought. Tea slopped down the front of her pants and onto the carpet. She put down the cup and grasped her pant leg to hold the scalding liquid away from her skin.
Stephan rounded his desk and walked to her side. “Is something wrong, Kelly?” There was no concern in his voice, only irritation. “You seem on edge.”
“It’s been a long day and it’s late.”
“Do not lie to me.” He narrowed his eyes. They were the same height when she wore flat heels, so his gaze bored into hers. His eyes were so much like Jamie’s, and yet so empty of warmth, the resemblance made her shudder. “I can see that something is troubling you,” he said.
Kelly felt a bubble of hysteria. She was about to cheat an egomaniacal heroin czar, put the blame on a drug smuggler who looked like an Indian warrior and she was facing the rest of her life on the run from both of them with her child.
What could possibly be troubling her?
“I know what it is.”
She pressed her tongue hard to the back of her front teeth, an old singer’s trick to stem the panic reaction and force her body to relax. God, he couldn’t know, could he? She’d been so careful.
“Gloria told me the boy got his hands on a gun.”
It took a second to change gears. With everything else going on, Kelly had pushed that particular nightmare to the back of her mind. At Stephan’s words, the image from this afternoon returned full force: Jamie in his playroom, his hair tousled as he backed out of the couch cushions, the sunlight gleaming from the pistol.
“You should have told me,” Stephan said. “Instead I heard it from the nanny.”
“You were busy,” Kelly said. “And I had to leave for the Starlight.”
“Simply because I do not spend as much time with our son as you do, don’t think his welfare doesn’t concern me. When he is old enough, he will be trained to take his place at my side.”
Trained? The prospect chilled her to her bones. She couldn’t let that happen. Whatever the cost, she had to get Jamie away before he fell under his father’s influence. “I spoke to the guards,” she said. She took a step back. “I told them not to bring their weapons into my and Jamie’s suite.”
“Pah!” He muttered a string of oaths in Russian. “That is not enough. I have dealt with it myself.”
“How?”
He returned to his desk and pressed a button on his phone. “Dimitri? Where’s Alex?”
A guttural, heavily accented voice came through the speaker. “In the basement, Mr. Volski.”
“Bring him to my office now.”
A few minutes later, the marble in the hall clattered with a set of heavy footsteps, along with a scuffing, thudding noise. The tall, blond Dimitri Petrovich, Stephan’s lieutenant, entered the room with a burly, middle-aged man in tow.
It was Alex Almari, a veteran guard who also served as one of Stephan’s enforcers. Kelly barely recognized him. His lower lip had been split open, the skin on his cheeks was raw from abrasions and his eyes were reduced to slits behind pulpy, purple swelling. He staggered a few steps sideways when Dimitri released his arm, then locked his knees and managed to stay on his feet.
Kelly pressed her fingers to her mouth. “Oh, my God. What happened to—”
“This