Chapter 2
TWO
Gabriele
Within minutes of meeting Katya Kuznetova I'm certain I was right about this woman being a good fit for me. She's challenging enough to be interesting but nothing about her suggests I couldn't keep her under control.
She's exactly what I hoped she would be when Niamh first told me about the beautiful Russian who'd approached her at a party, hoping to become my wife. Niamh had seen her potential immediately and now so do I.
That Katya is beautiful is indisputable. Tall and slender, she commands attention. Other men might pick her based on her stunning appearance alone.
For me, it's something else that draws me in. This woman has inner strength and a spark of defiance. She's begging to be tamed. I don't want to extinguish her fire but it will answer to me. Only to me.
Although there's a brief flash of panic on her face when I tell her I know everything about her, she quickly locks it away behind those gorgeous denim blue eyes. Her ability to compose herself under pressure is impressive.
I've sat opposite titans of industry and hardened criminals who let their emotions bleed out when they're challenged. Not Katya. She recovers almost immediately.
"What do you know about me?" she asks.
No, she doesn't ask. She demands. There's enough tension in her voice for me to detect fear, but this is not a woman who bows down to it. She channels her nervousness into determination.
That's good.
If she's to stand by my side she'll need a backbone of steel. Without it, she'd be eaten alive.
"I know everything."
From her childhood ballet lessons to what she enjoys for breakfast, my investigators have supplied a wealth of information.
I know she keeps a battered copy of Anna Karenina in the nightstand by her bed and reads it every winter.
She hums tunes from Tchaikovsky's ballets when she thinks nobody's listening.
When her father's bodyguard of fifteen years was gunned down she cried for days. I don't know why I've memorized these things but none of them are pertinent right now.
"So you know about Boris Orlov?"
Moving closer, I take the seat opposite her and spread my arms out along the back of the sofa. She watches me carefully, not like she's wary of a predator, but as a woman assessing her situation, trying to decide how to play it.
That's one more thing to like about her. She weighs her options carefully before acting, though the results aren't always what she hoped.
"I know about Orlov," I confirm. "I also know about his brother, Mikhail. Tell me, what were you hoping to achieve there?"
The merest hint of a grimace curls her deep red lips. Up close, she's more striking than the photographs I obtained suggested.
With dark brown hair slicked back in a ponytail and a tailored black dress, she no doubt intended to present herself as businesslike but her heart-shaped face and enormous eyes make her look young and innocent. She's out of her depth but treading water admirably.
"My father contracted me to marry Sergei Litkov."
I almost shudder at the thought of such a lovely young woman being bound to a fossil like him. Sergei Litkov has to be seventy years old. Shriveled with age, his character is as mean as his thin, pale features.
A lifetime of justified paranoia, knowing assassins lurk around the corner, has twisted his personality into something ugly.
"And that led you to Mikhail Orlov's bed?"
Her tongue pokes out to lick her lips as her eyes dart off to the side. She's trying to decide how much truth to offer me.
"Sergei wanted a virgin bride. I decided not to give him that."
I understand her reasoning, admire it, even. She tried to take her destiny into her own hands. Unfortunately, she didn't account for all possible consequences of her actions.
"What if I want to marry a virgin?"
A frown forms on her face as though it never occurred to her I might be so discerning. Perhaps she thinks my scars make me too desperate to care what sort of woman I marry.
That was a risk I took when I asked Niamh to help me find a suitable bride.
"Do you?" she asks.
I ignore the question, leaving her to wonder whether her sleeping with another man is a dealbreaker for me.
"What happened with Mikhail?"
"My father caught us together." She draws in a fortifying breath. "He shot Mikhail, right between the eyes."
Something haunted dims the brightness on her face.
"You were there?"
"I was." Her lip wobbles and her eyes glisten but she reins herself in. "It took hours to wash off the blood."
Her tone of indifference is hollow. Katya is not the sort of woman who would so lightly brush off a man's death. I wouldn't allow her to be here if she was.
My people have dug into every aspect of her life. This Russian beauty is strong, independent and perhaps a little mercenary when it comes to protecting her bank balance, but she hasn't got a callous bone in her body.
In fact, all I've learned about Katya tells me she's extremely compassionate.
"So your father murdered Mikhail and then made peace with his brother?"
Katya nods. "With me as the sweetener."
"I'm surprised he accepted."
I may not have spoken to my brothers for a while but if someone hurt either of them I would bring the full weight of my wrath down on them.
Katya smiles tightly.
"He wants to fuck me until there's nothing left and then torture me to death."
She's a smart woman. My guess is that's exactly what Orlov wants from her. He isn't someone who's been on my radar until now, but I've heard he's known for his vengefulness. He won't take it out on Katya. I won't let him.
"And I'm your last resort?"
She shakes her head. "No, you're my preferred solution."
Interesting.
"You have other options?"
"I do."
That's where she's wrong. Until she walked through my door there might have been other roads she could take to save herself.
Now she's made a bed she'll have to lie in for the rest of her life because the moment she looked me dead in the eye she was mine.
I decide not to tell her that yet. Watching her playing the cards she thinks she holds is the most entertainment I've had in years.
"And where is your father in all of this? I assume the alliance you were trying to sell is unlikely."
She shrugs. "He's an opportunist. If you marry me, he'll look for the upside."
He won't find anything to take advantage of here. From what Katya's told me already I know I couldn't trust the man.
"You're not afraid of him, since he killed your lover?"
"Mikhail was a brief fling and no, I'm not afraid of my father. I can handle him."
The evidence suggests otherwise.
"Hmm."
I let the silence stretch between us. You can tell a lot about a person by how they handle a lull in conversation. Unlike most people, Katya doesn't rush to fill it.
Instead, she studies my face as closely as I'm examining hers. I'm surprised she's managed to stare at me for so long.
Most women I've met since the attack haven't wanted to linger on my face but Katya has shown neither revulsion nor the pity I dread so much.
After a while, the quiet becomes uncomfortable for her. She wriggles on her seat, picking a piece of fluff from her skirt before clearing her throat.
"So you know I bring baggage."
"Baggage?" It seems Katya has a gift for understatement. "We'll be lucky if you don't bring all-out war down on us."
She sighs heavily. "Why did you agree to meet me? Knowing all the trouble I bring, why not simply refuse?"
"Because you interest me, Katya and I'm not afraid of getting bloody to possess the things I want."
"So you'll consider marrying me?"
That was decided before she walked through the door.
No matter how this meeting went, she was the most suitable woman who's crossed my path.
Again, I withhold my thoughts from her.
"I don't know, Ekaterina Olegovna Kuznetova." She stiffens at my use of her full name. "Are you worth it?"
She raises her chin, just a fraction. "Yes, I'm worth it."
"Arrogant little thing, aren't you?"
She shakes her head. "I'm aware of my shortcomings but I also know what I bring to the table."
It's a good response.
"There's something else I'm curious about, Katya." I lean forward. "How did you get out of Russia?"
"When I called Niamh and she said you'd agreed to meet, we arranged for her to collect me on her private jet. One of the guards has a soft spot for me so when it was time to go, I persuaded him to let me leave unaccompanied. I drove straight to the airfield and we flew here last night."
I nod, already knowing all this. "That guard was Peter Androvich?"
She blinks rapidly. "How do you know? Does he work for you?"
"No, he works for Boris Orlov. They landed in Rome two hours after you did."
"Boris is in Rome?"
"He is."
She swallows hard. "So Peter let me out so Boris could find me unprotected?"
"That would be my guess. You're lucky you got to Niamh before Orlov got to you."
Her face blanches as she realizes the seriousness of her situation. She clasps her hands tightly on her lap and stares down at them.
"Are you going to let him have me?"
How simple my life would be if I was the sort of man who could knowingly send an innocent woman to her death.
"That depends on whether you're willing to accept my terms."
"What are they?"
"We marry straight away and you fulfil your marital duties."
Her eyes snap up to meet mine once more. "You mean sex?"
"I mean fucking wherever, whenever, however I want."
Her lips part as a gasp escapes her but there's an ember of arousal in her eye that tells me she's not repulsed by the idea of me owning her body completely.
"I can accept that. What else?"
I'm glad she's smart enough to know that's not all I'll require of her.