“I won’t.” Rolan nodded. “I’m coming with you to Paris.”
The limo stopped.
Maxwell damped out the joint and put it away.
I growled. “We’ll finish this conversation later.”
“We won’t. I’m coming and that is final.” Rolan scooted over, opened the door, and stepped out, blocking my view with his ass.
Mrs. Jones's voice sounded from outside. “Hello, are you with Misha?”
Rolan didn’t respond.
I leaned forward and called out, “Yes, Mrs. Jones. Sorry. My godfather came to St Petersburg for a surprise visit.”
Silent, Rolan remained standing and blocking the door.
I leaned forward. “Batya, please let Mrs. Jones by.”
Saying nothing, he moved to the side.
Mrs. Jones slowly climbed in. And I saw what might have caught Rolan’s tongue. She was a vision to behold. A slightly older version of Ava, but not by much. Lovely brown skin. Tonight her wig was long, black, and teasing her shoulders. She wore a sparkling silver gown with a curve-hugging silhouette. It was strapless and held her cleavage up as if offering a taste to any viewer.
Maxwell straightened up in his seat. “You look amazing as always, Jackie.”
“It’s Mrs. Jones, sweetie.” She sat next to me.
“That’s right. I keep forgetting.” Maxwell lowered the window in the limo and fanned the smoke out.
Rolan still had not climbed into the limo.
“Batya?” I held my hands out. “Come on. I don’t want to be late.”
Finally, he climbed back inside and sat across from Mrs. Jones and me. His gaze remained on her. There weren’t many times when I witnessed my godfather go speechless.
Dear God. Here we go.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jones.” Rolan stroked his goatee.
“Nice to meet you too.” She gave him a gentle smile. “And your name?”
“Rolan. Many call me the Big Bear. One day, you will call me that too.”
I frowned. “No. Rolan is fine. She won’t be calling you the Big Bear.”
Mrs. Jones laughed. “Yeah. I like Rolan much better.”
Like a creepy old man, he continued to stroke his goatee.
I scowled at him and spoke in Russian. “You know what? I think you are correct. You should come to Paris with me.”
“No.” Rolan lowered his hands, knitted his fingers in his lap, and responded in Russian. “I should remain in St Petersburg to watch over Ava and the little butterfly.”
I spoke in Russian. “She is not a butterfly.”
Rolan ignored me and shifted back to English. “Mrs. Jones, do you like Diana Ross?”
“I do.”
“You look just like her.” Rolan gave Mrs. Jones a wicked smile. “I am her biggest fan.”
Mrs. Jones laughed. “I doubt it. Some would say I am.”
“No. I am.” Rolan flirted. “In June 1995, she came to Moscow and performed at the Kremlin Palace.”
Mrs. Jones widened her eyes. “I never knew that.”
Rolan raised his hands in the air. “There were over 6,000 fans and I was there. Right in the front. She sang, I’m Coming Out, Chain Reaction, Baby Love, and other songs. But when she finished, I went in the back along with the president and said hello.”
“Oh my.” Mrs. Jones blinked. “You met Diana Ross.”
“I did.” He gave her a wicked grin. “Perhaps I could introduce you two.”
I leaned back in the seat, hoping the limo driver would hurry to the theater. I didn’t need Rolan putting the moves on Mrs. Jones. I had enough problems going on.
Maxwell cleared his throat. “Yeah. You do look like Diana Ross, but even more beautiful.”
Mrs. Jones smiled at him. “Thank you.”
Rolan chuckled. “I’m surprised you know who Diana Ross is, Maxwell. Surely, you are too young and. . .inexperienced.”
I shook my head.
“Inexperienced?” Maxwell snorted. “I’m well-experienced. I can do a lot of damage.”
Rolan muttered, “I doubt it.”
Mrs. Jones grinned. “Are we still talking about Diana Ross?”
“Yes, babochka.”
Mrs. Jones quirked her brows. “Ba what?”
“It means Mrs. Jones in Russian. Please allow me to call you that.” Rolan smiled. “My English can be rusty at times. I’m just a simple man.”
Maxwell smirked. “You know how to say Mrs. Jones.”
I wished I could deliver messages to Rolan’s mind. Perhaps he would lower the level of ridiculousness for the evening. Already, I couldn’t wait for the limo to get to the theater.
Surprisingly, Mrs. Jones leaned a little forward and studied Rolan. “And you came to visit your godson?”
Rolan nodded. “His father passed. I must take up the job.”
Her smile deepened. “That is the job of a godfather.”
“Mikhail must bury his father. Unfortunately, your granddaughter has been a distraction.”
I loudly cleared my throat.
Rolan held up his hand. “But she’s distracted him in a good way.”
Mrs. Jones gave me a weak smile. “I do believe that he’s been distracted. However, I’m happy he was here to. . .help Ava in her time of need.”
“And now I’m here to help in any way.” Rolan stroked his goatee again. “You’re fifty-two?”
Maxwell grinned. “It’s rude to ask a lady her age.”
“That’s fine, Maxwell. I don’t mind.” Mrs. Jones crossed her legs. “Yes. I’m fifty-two.”