9. Nikolai
NIKOLAI
I wanted Sierra out of the way while I dealt with my mother.
I have an ominous feeling about the way she tried to renege on the terms she herself set out.
Once I see my wife and sister slide into the bulletproof SUV with two bodyguards, I drive my own car home and duck into my own villa on the family compound to change clothes.
Mother is in her house with the curtains drawn.
I stop short when I find her sitting in the gloomy living room, staring into space.
She’s still beautiful at fifty-three, regal with her full lips, round face, and dark hair carefully maintained a precise shade of reddish-brown.
It’s been that hue ever since I can remember.
Yet there is a weariness about her today. A sadness that pierces my soul.
In my haste to lock down the succession, I haven’t had time to dwell on Father’s passing. Konstantin Orlov was an icon. The kind of man any boy would look up to. Dedicated to his family, adored his wife, and ruthless in protecting his interests. A lump forms in my throat.
“Mamushka,” I mutter. “Are you well?”
Her red lips curve into a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes.
“I am fine. I miss Kon. That’s all,” she says in Russian.
She will never share her grief, not even with her own sons.
Irina Orlov is as tough as nails. She moved from Russia to the United States when she was nineteen to marry a man she didn’t know, where she didn’t speak the language.
Her blue eyes narrow. “I understand you are married already. When do I get to meet your wife?”
“Whenever she and Lilia return from shopping.” I extract the marriage certificate from my inner pocket and pass it to her.
Mother examines it for a long time—far longer than she should need to confirm the time, date, and names.
An itch forms between my shoulder blades.
I don’t move, but it torments me in a physical manifestation of my discomfort.
“Interesting. I have ordered a full background check on this Sierra Martinez. Would you like to know what I discovered?” She sets aside the yellow certificate. Cold seeps into my blood.
What if this was all a setup?
Mind whirling, I review the events of the past twenty-four hours.
Finding Sierra alone at Alisa Morozov’s mansion, wearing Alisa’s clothes.
How convenient that she just so happened to be there.
Her too-easy agreement when I proposed marriage in exchange for ten million dollars looks different in the harsh light of day.
How did I fail to see it?
I let myself get carried along on a tide of emotion. Suppressed grief over my father’s death. Desire for Sierra’s sexy body. She was so sweet, pretending to listen to me. Pretending she cared at a time when I was emotionally vulnerable and couldn’t admit it.
I heard her whispered “I love you” this morning when I was fucking her with nothing but dreams of a beautiful baby in my mind. I almost believed it then.
I don’t believe it now.
“Tell me,” I say roughly.
“She is perfect. Too perfect,” Mamushka says.
“Her parents are dead. Estranged sister. She’s worked for this cleaning service for four years, and for a different one before that.
Lives alone in a studio apartment. I have sent men to investigate her past and bring her belongings from Los Angeles to Las Vegas.
I do not trust your choice of bride, Nikolai.
I am having them search everything she owns. There must be more to her story.”
Her statement is a blow to the solar plexus. I think of the willing way Sierra gave herself to me. I should have seen it for what it was—a red flag intended to distract me from looking too closely at her. She was so interested in the ten million I promised her, too.
“You think Sierra is a spy?” I ask, almost desperate for it not to be true. But I have to face facts. A real man doesn’t run away from his mistakes.
“I am not sure yet. What I do know is that I cannot name you the true heir to the Orlov faction, Nik. Not until we know.” She says this gently, but fury flares through me anyway.
“I fulfilled your requirements. You said the first one to marry would inherit.” I thump my chest. “I did it. I should be the one to lead.”
She gazes at me with pity in her eyes. “I didn’t mean you could jeopardize this operation in the process.
You rush into things, Nikolai. You are impulsive and reckless.
You don’t think before you act. A whirlwind marriage to a woman you hardly know does nothing to reassure me that you would be a capable leader. ”
A knife to the gut would have been kinder.
“Fine. I can concede the point. What would it take to prove that I’m a better leader than Max or the twins?”
“I am watching the four of you closely. I suspect that you will have won in the most technical sense of having married first. Prove to me that yours is a real marriage, and that Sierra is as committed to the enterprise as the rest of us are.”
I feel sick. I can’t prove anything. Sierra doesn’t even know she married into the bratva—unless she’s a plant, in which case, my wife is a dead woman walking. No matter how much I’ve begun to care about her. I’ll do whatever I must to protect my family.