Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Viktoria climbed the yacht’s teakwood stairs and stepped into the fresh early morning Florida air. The warm sun felt good on her bare skin, better than the bitter wintry winds they’d left behind in Chicago.
She sidestepped the discarded bottles of Beluga and empty caviar bowls strewn about the deck.
Some of Yuri’s and Nikki’s “boys” lay snoring loudly on recliners, but Yuri was nowhere in sight.
He hadn’t come back to their cabin after the outrageous party had wound down.
He was probably sleeping with one of the exotic dancers he’d invited on board before they’d left port.
Viktoria didn’t care. She hadn’t wanted to come on this trip and didn’t think Yuri wanted her there either, but Olga had convinced Nikki that she needed a shopping partner for her many forays into Miami.
Viktoria couldn’t fathom the logic there, since sometimes she didn’t think Nikki’s wife even liked her.
Her reflection in one of the yacht’s many windows nearly made her gasp.
Only a slight discoloration from her latest bruise lingered, but the dark circles under her eyes were just as bad.
A gust of wind threatened to whip away the wrap she’d tied around her bathing suit.
Without trying, she’d lost weight and her clothes now hung on her. Even her ribs were starting to show.
The sound of dripping water caught her attention.
She turned to see Alex Tarankov haul himself up the swim ladder onto the deck.
Okay, so maybe there was one other person on the yacht besides herself who hadn’t gotten stinking drunk last night.
Over the last few months, she’d discovered he might be the only one in Yuri’s crew who didn’t drink vodka like it was water.
Viktoria swallowed hard. Yuri was a big man, but Alex had several inches on her husband.
Droplets of water glistened on the hard planes of his chest. While Yuri’s body was covered with tattoos—the leaping stag on his arm, a star on his chest, at least three onion-domed church cupolas on his back, and that was just for starters—she couldn’t see any on Alex.
A light mat of dark hair swirled around large pectoral muscles, then down to a hardened six-pack and a tapered waistline before arrowing beneath the hem of black swim trunks.
The trunks were plastered to his body, outlining…
well, all kinds of things she shouldn’t be thinking about.
When she’d finished perusing the sinewy muscles of his long athletic legs, she looked up to find him watching her.
The sun hadn’t risen fully, yet her face heated nonetheless.
She wanted to turn away, but Alex emanated a palpable aura of electricity and strength she was helplessly drawn to.
Like that day at Semyon Novikov’s. When her hand had been completely enfolded in his, she’d felt an odd sensation, all warm and tingly.
That tingling had amplified, sending an electric current shooting throughout her body, warming her as if she were sitting around a campfire.
She’d wanted to keep talking with him. Until Yuri had shown up.
“See anything you like?” he whispered. His unusual, striking eyes—light brown, almost gold in color—seemed to sparkle and glow in the morning light.
When he grinned, she nearly melted right there on the deck. If someone had thrown water on her, she would have disintegrated like the Wicked Witch of the West. “Uh, I was just wondering if the water was warm,” she lied in a quiet voice, worried about waking anyone.
“Are you wearing a suit under there?” He nodded at her blue cover-up.
“Yes,” she whispered back.
“Come for a swim with me.”
She shouldn’t go anywhere alone with him. Unless he gave his explicit permission, Yuri would kill her. But part of her was dead already, so what did it matter?
She untied her cover-up and threw it onto an empty deck chair.
Alex’s hot gaze started on her face then dropped slowly, inch by inch, down the tight black maillot that hugged her body.
She couldn’t breathe and suddenly felt more self-conscious than any other moment in her life.
She’d lost so much weight she must look skeletal.
He held out his hand. “Come on. I want to show you something.” When she hesitated, he nodded to the unconscious men. “They’ll be sleeping for a while. They only passed out about an hour ago.”
She stared at his outstretched hand without taking it.
Most of Yuri’s men were afraid to talk to her, let alone touch her, as if they too were petrified of being pummeled.
There was something different about this man.
He didn’t show fear. And in ways she couldn’t explain, he made her nervous and excited.
She took his hand, and he pulled her toward the ladder. Whether it was due to the warm morning sun peeking above the horizon, she couldn’t say… Her entire body sizzled.
As she stepped off the bottom rung of the ladder, the deep blue water cooled her heated skin.
Alex floated effortlessly a few feet away.
Sunlight glinted off his dark brown, nearly black hair, making it shine like volcanic glass.
A lock had fallen over one eye, making him look like the most handsome pirate she’d ever seen.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
She nodded, not really understanding why. She hardly knew him.
“Then follow me.” His long, muscled arms sliced through the water. She swam after him, and he slowed to her pace.
“Alex,” she said, stopping to tread water after a few minutes. She looked back at the yacht anchored a hundred yards away. “Where are we going? You may be an Olympic swimmer, but I’m not.”
He swam up to her. “I thought you trusted me.”
“I do trust you.”
“Good. It’s not much farther.”
He took off again and she followed, but not before looking around and seeing nothing but open water.
A minute later, he spun to face her. “You can stand up now.”
She put her feet down and smiled as sand squished between her toes. He led her onto a sandbar hidden just beneath the surface.
“I found it earlier this morning.” He wiped the water from his face, calling attention to the light shadow gracing his chiseled jaw and making him appear dangerous but in a sexy way. Which he was, to her. Dangerous and sexy.
“Earlier this morning?” It was only about seven now. “What time did you get up?”
“Five. I’ve always been an early riser. Old habits die hard.” He sat on the sandbar, then grabbed her hand and pulled her down with him. Several inches of clear blue water sloshed around them.
They faced the orange globe rising just above the horizon. Her shoulder accidentally brushed against his. Instinct would ordinarily have made her pull away. This time she didn’t want to. And it didn’t seem to bother him.
“I like the early morning,” Alex said. “It’s quiet. Peaceful. A good time to think about things.”
All she could think about was his warm, muscular arm and shoulder grazing her skin. “Mornings aren’t always peaceful,” she replied softly.
Gently, he touched two fingers to the side of her face, just below her eye where the last of the bruise was still visible. For a long moment, Alex stared at the purple marks, then their eyes met. In his, there was understanding. Remorse.
He knew.
Alex knew what she’d been going through, and she felt ashamed. She pulled his hand away from her face, but held fast to his fingers. “Please. Don’t,” she whispered.
“Don’t what?” In slow increments, as if he were giving her a choice, he leaned in closer. His golden gaze dipped a fraction to her lips.
Did she want him to kiss her? God help me, yes.
Parting her lips would be an open invitation. She parted her lips.
The contact was gentle as his warm lips feathered over hers, sending a shiver of awareness down her spine that she’d never experienced before. She took a deep breath, expecting, hoping he would deepen the kiss.
With a groan, he clenched his jaw and turned away. He pulled their locked hands below the water’s surface and threw a quick glance at the yacht. A moment later, he released her hand but not before giving it a squeeze.
Viktoria could practically see the emotional guardrail he’d thrown up.
Part of her was disappointed, but it was better this way, and they both knew it.
She shouldn’t get to know him. What good would it do?
Nothing could ever happen between them. Yuri and his friends all had mistresses, but she could never be like that, and Yuri would never tolerate it.
“We should probably be getting back.” Before Yuri woke up and discovered she wasn’t on the yacht.
“Yeah. Probably.” He exhaled. “In a minute.”
When he turned and touched her face again, his nostrils flared and his lips parted slightly. If he wanted to finish what they’d started, she’d be a willing participant.
Suddenly, he cleared his throat and stood. “We should go.”
During the swim back, she couldn’t ignore the one, all-consuming thought taking up every square inch of her brain: Alex Tarankov made her want something that had been missing in her life for years.
Life, itself.