“A last-minute decision,” Nikolai answers. “Dad, this is Charlotte Harrison; Charlotte, my father, Igor Romanov.”
My throat clenches, but I manage to put my hand out to him.
“Happy birthday, sir.”
Igor takes my hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a light kiss to the back of my hand before letting go. I’d always pictured the Russian mob to be less formal, more brawn and fewer manners. The Romanovs are proving me wrong.
“Thank you, Charlotte. It’s nice to meet you.” He glances at Nikolai. “I need a few minutes with you tonight.”
“Of course.” Nikolai’s hand tightens on my hip. “I was just going to give Charlotte a tour of the house.”
Igor’s lips twitch. “Dinner is going to be served soon.”
“Actually, I’d like to step outside for a moment.” I take a small step toward Igor, sensing he can help me get some space from Nikolai.
“Of course. If you keep going down this hallway you’ll walk straight through the kitchen, there’s a patio just outside the door there. Or you can go through the library to the gardens.” He points a finger toward another room off to the left.
“Oh, the gardens sound nice. I’ll do that. Thank you,” I say to him with a small nod then maneuver my way around Nikolai.
“Charlotte, wait for me,” Nikolai says, but I keep pushing forward. His father, having taken my side of things, says something to Nikolai, giving me just enough time to maneuver through the crowd and into the library.
This room is less filled with people and the air is thinner. I find the French doors leading to the gardens and push them open, taking in the light breeze as it passes over my face. Despite the summer heat, the fresh air cools me. The frazzled sensation ebbs with every step I take.
I’m barely to the first rosebush before a heavy hand wraps around my wrist.
“You really are being a naughty girl today, aren’t you?” Nikolai’s voice sends a tremor of warning down my spine. He has me pulled my back against his chest, one arm is draped around my waist anchoring me to him, while the other has snaked around and captured my face.
“Nikolai.” I wrangle with him, but he’s stronger.
“Let’s have a tour of the gardens, since that’s what you wanted,” he says against my ear. There’s a hint of a cigarette on his breath.
He releases me but snatches up my hand in his. Aside from the rosebushes and other flowers I couldn’t name if he put a gun to my head, there is a rotunda in the center with tall bushes acting as a shield against the rest of the party. My heels click against the stone pathway as he pulls me behind the greenery. There is a set of benches and a fountain in the middle. A secluded area that would be a perfect place to hide away from the city—if you can ignore the car horns every few minutes.
“You’re mad because I didn’t wear the black dress.” I yank my hand from his and sit on one of the benches. It was a petty move, defiantly wearing the blue dress just to piss him off.
“I’m disappointed you didn’t wear the dress. I was more disappointed when you went to the deli after I told you not to. It displeased me when you walked away from me the first time inside, and then even more when you did it the second time.” He folds his arms over his chest, looking down at me like he’s trying to lecture a petulant child.
“I didn’t work. You said I couldn’t work, and I didn’t.” I cross my legs at the knee and fold my arms over my stomach.
He runs his thumb over his chin but says nothing.
“You said I could have lunch from wherever I wanted, and I wanted a sandwich.” I shrug as he continues to glare down at me.
“From your own shop.”
“I like the ham we use.” I shrug again. I’m sure Viktor told on me. “I didn’t work. I just wanted to check in.”
“Because you don’t think they can handle the shop without you? Do you always hire incompetent staff?” His question strikes a nerve.
“They aren’t incompetent,” I defend.
“Then you’re a micromanager who has no confidence in your own staff.”
I clench my jaw. “You’re just pissed because I didn’t do exactly as you said.” I look away from him.
“You didn’t. That’s right. You wanted to push me, so you deliberately split hairs about the deli, then you defy me with your dress.” He hooks his hands on his hips. The golden lights strung around the garden casts enough of a shadow over his face that his features are hidden. “Stand up and bend over the bench. Put your hands flat on the seat and stick your ass out high for me.” He reaches for his belt buckle and my stomach does a somersault.
“What?” I blink, then look around. He’s back to being insane. “We’re outside, Nikolai,” I protest.