Chapter Twenty-Three
In which Caroline is given two bodyguards and a shiny new Maybach, which is even better than wedding china.
Caroline…
The upstairs is silent when I wake up, and I scamper into the master bedroom to get dressed before Nikandr catches me.
I notice that the bed is made, every crease pulled tight.
The man makes his own bed. Probably just because he just can't stand disorder, but I like it.
I despise people who have the, "let the servants take care of it. " Any functional adult can make a bed.
Black trousers and suit jacket on, armed with my work makeup of swooping eyeliner and screaming red lipstick, I push my luck, heading downstairs for a cup of coffee and a quick exit.
If someone put me in this penthouse without the slightest hint of who owned it, I would still think immediately of Sovietnik Nikandr Morozov. The penthouse's main room is a two-story wall of glass. It's a heart stopping view of the New York Bay and the city skyline.
The main room is huge enough for three or four different groupings of furniture, but they're all angled toward the view.
The floors are walnut, glowing with countless polishings, leading into the kitchen, which is of course, a masterpiece.
The counters are black granite shot through with silver and gold threads. The cabinets are black.
Like his soul, I add to myself
There's the requisite gleaming stainless-steel stove, and ovens, a massive refrigerator and another smaller one just for wine.
Two dishwashers? Nikandr must throw a hell of a lot of parties.
There's a couple of other appliances that I don't fully understand and one that I'm pretty sure is a coffee maker.
There is one thing out of place in this chilly perfection, a vertical section of brick wall with a vertical garden, mostly herbs with delicate English ivy curling between them.
There's a flashing light from the thing that I think makes coffee and I am correct as a dark brew pours into the carafe. It smells amazing and I drift over to the counter, hearing my heels click in the otherwise silent space.
This is good. I get my coffee, I get the hell out of here and go to work, where things are sane and I can control my environment.
I pour a cup of coffee, no cream or sugar, because I like that first blissful hit of caffeine to enter my bloodstream as quickly as possible. Blowing on it, I step over to look out a window in the main room.
There is rich, the way I grew up, in a beautiful house. We had a vacation home, nice cars, and I had a good education.
Then, there is stupidly, stratospherically, out of this world and obscenely wealthy, and this penthouse is a living testament to that. The view of one of the most powerful cities in the world, makes me picture Nikandr standing here, seeing it all as his domain.
I take my first blissful sip of coffee right as I hear his voice behind me.
"Good, you're awake."
I almost drop my mug and wheeze, choking on that swallow, patting my chest as I try to get it down, eyes watering.
There's the start of the day I was hoping for.
Nikandr is strolling toward me, he's in a dark gray suit with a red tie and he looks fucking amazing. And I'm sure he knows it. "How did you sleep?" he asks.
"Fine, thank you," I take another sip of coffee and try to not look directly at him.
He's like an eclipse, oddly mesmerizing and extremely damaging.
I'm trying to keep my wits about me so I can slide out of here as quickly as possible.
"I have a ton of meetings today and catching up with my work at the Lyric, so I'll just be leaving now. "
I'm almost past him, almost home free. I can see my purse and my laptop bag waiting for me on the round table in the entryway.
"Before you go, let me introduce you to your bodyguards."
"Excuse me?" I say, nearly dropping my coffee again.
His hazel eyes narrow slightly as he assesses me. "You, of course, understand you'll have security now just the way Liria does."
"I hadn’t really thought about it," I admit. "Having been married for what- thirty-six hours? I'm sure the enormity of it all will come crashing down on me today," I smile sweetly.
Nikandr's lips move the barest hint of a smile and he calls out, "Isaak and Rafail, join us please."
The two men who walk down the hall that may as well have, "Property of the Morozov Bratva" stamped on their foreheads.
Both are built like bears, wearing black suits, and with cropped black hair.
They look enough alike that I wonder if they're twins or brothers.
Glancing down, I see the tattoos on their fingers so they're probably ex-soldiers (or ex-convicts) transplanted from Mother Russia.
"Gentlemen," I nod politely before turning to Nikandr. "Do I really need two bodyguards? Wouldn't one just be enough?"
He moves close enough that I can smell good coffee, the clean cotton scent of his shirt, and the warmth of his cologne, something smoky. "Given the unidentified threats against our family and the attack the other day, I feel that it's wise to make sure you have proper protection at all times."
This is overkill. Either one of these guys looks like he could tear the arm off any human being and then beat them to death with it. And I need two of them?
Blowing out a sigh, I ask, "Hi, which one of you is Isaak?" He nods gravely.
"Ma'am." He's got skulls on three of his knuckles. Okay, Isaak: skull knuckle guy. "Then, you must be Rafail." Their presence alone is so threatening, that they're making me feel vaguely uncomfortable.
"Yes, Mrs. Morozova. Good morning." Rafail has a bit of a Russian accent.
Okay, the more outgoing of the two. Good.
"Gentlemen, I'm going to be honest with you.
I'm not that exciting," I say apologetically.
"I work a lot at the hotel. And I don't know how to say this politely so I'll just say it.
You are going to scare the shit out of my guests and my employees.
You have to find a way to tone the whole…
" I wave my hands awkwardly, "Menacing thing down. "
Rafail looks like he's trying to hide a smile, Isaak stares at me, stone faced. "Yes ma'am," Rafail says. "We will do our best."
Nikandr is watching all of this with his usual haughty chill. "Thank you for a wildly overprotective concern," I tell him. "Is there anything else before I leave?"
"We have a late dinner tonight with my parents, Andrey and Dasha, my little sister. They'll be coming here."
"Oh, are we making dinner?" I ask. I know how to make maybe three respectable dishes and none of them are Russian.
"I have a chef for that," he says. "You only need to cook when you feel like it." Well, there's one hell of a side benefit, though this whole domestic moment is making me itchy and eager to leave.
"Well, then, I'm sure you have a lot of high-powered phone calls to make and rocket launchers to store, so I'll just be on my way."
"One last thing," he says.
"What?"
Nikandr takes another step closer, looming over me even in my heels, and I feel it again. The sheer height and size of this man. He taps his cheek with one long finger. "Can my wife give her husband a kiss before leaving for her busy day?"
"I don't know," I say, raising a brow at his weird 50's style couples shit. "Do you think she wants to?" I don't think I want to touch him and feel that spark again. It's distracting.
"I would appreciate it," he says with his darkest smile.
The bastard. He's presented it in a way that would make me look churlish or unpleasant if I didn't, so I step forward and put my hand on his chest for balance and kiss his freshly shaved cheek.
"Have a good day," he whispers in my ear.
Yep, there's that goddamn spark.
I'm accompanied by my new silent shadows down to the parking garage. There is a car waiting for us. It's a shiny dark blue Mercedes-Maybach SUV. The motor is already running and the attendant steps out, holding the door for Isaak as Rafail holds mine.
"Is this a standard car from the company fleet?" I ask, meaning it as a little joke that Rafail takes seriously.
"No ma'am, this was purchased by the Sovietnik yesterday, specifically for you."
"This… seems extravagant but okay," I say, sliding inside.
It smells like fine leather and a fuck ton of money.
Forget the new car smell. This is the, "I'm going to wrap my expensive scent around you and lightly massage you with my wealthy fingertips" smell.
He bought me a Maybach. Just like that, because why not?
When we get to the hotel, I use the side entrance so that I can get to my office unseen. I'm pretty sure my new shadows are going to slow me down if the new adornment on my left hand doesn't do the job and I need to call Liria immediately. I look at my hulking guardians.
"I can't work comfortably or take meetings with you sitting there staring at me.
Do you think you could just hang out here in the waiting area?
" There are two large, upholstered chairs next to my office door.
"I can have the staff bring you food or a TV or…
" I remember the guys on the plane playing cards for nine hours. "Cards?"
"We won't require anything, ma'am," Rafail says, "but we do need to run a security check on your office.
" Nodding at my hand on the door knob. "I will need to go through first. You will stay here with Isaac.
" Standing in the door, I watch him check the office and the terrace outside with quick thoroughness.
"Thank you, gentlemen," I say. "Let me know when you need something to drink, or lunch."
"We won't," Isaac rumbles.
I give them an uneasy combination of a smile and a frown, I shut my door. Seizing my phone, I stab Liria's number in and wait impatiently. She picks up on the second ring.
"Oh my god, are you okay?" she screams.