Chapter 8 #2
She was the most beautiful woman I’d seen so far on the island.
Perhaps in any city or country. However, if I had to guess, and I was always right, his interest was more about learning as much information about me and the Dmitriyev regime than longing to spend time with a gorgeous woman.
What he had no clue about was whether Fallon and I were more personally connected.
I raked my hands through my short hair, almost wishing I’d gotten a haircut. If I could grasp strands with my fingers, it was too long for me.
Chuckling, I kept her in my line of sight as I headed her way.
She was sitting facing the opposite direction, unable to see my approach, yet the moment I drew close, her shoulders stiffened, obviously feeling the same jolt of electricity as I was.
She turned her head slightly, allowing me to see her from the side.
I’d be damned. Ludolf Hoffman hadn’t wasted any time. While I realized he owned the small boutique hotel, I didn’t care for the way she was reacting to his salutations.
In fact, a hint of jealousy rolled through me. Imagine that.
Ludolf hadn’t seen my approach and I could tell by her eyes she was annoyed at his interference.
The man’s voice was low, but I could tell by his body language he was insisting she have a drink with him.
Or something more carnal.
At that moment, possessiveness kicked in. While I knew she wouldn’t be thrilled at my thoughts, she didn’t want his advances either.
Just as I started to close the distance, she turned her head once again. If she thought she was going to ignore me or the situation, she had another think coming. I removed my sunglasses, shoving one of the earpieces into my shirt.
“Did I keep you waiting too long?” I asked her with a heated smile on my face before giving Ludolf a curt nod.
“Well, I did have my eye on the sexy bartender, but he’s still working.” Her voice was practically cooing and I could tell by the flash in her eyes she was grateful for the intervention.
She had me looking over my shoulder at the pleasant-looking but much older man who could easily be her grandfather. I was curious if she’d accept the bait I was offering.
“And yes, late as usual, Vissarian, but I’ll forgive you.”
“Ah, Mr. Dmitriyev,” Ludolf said with irritation in his voice as he extended his hand. “I was hoping to get a chance to say hello prior to our meeting. Your lovely companion was just telling me how happy she is to be working with you.”
I shook his hand, giving him the same kind of distracted onceover he’d given to me. “Yes, well, I’ll tell you a little secret. Fallon is very important to me. Very important.”
He flashed his eyes in her direction, squeezing my hand as if a show of power. His annoyance was increasing. “Ah. How fortunate for you both. Incidentally, I do have a booklet of information on the project I would be happy to send to your room, so you have time to digest.”
I eyed him carefully, unable to tell if he was testing me or the water.
“I’d prefer to discuss all aspects of business when I’ve enjoyed a good night’s sleep.”
The flash of irritation in his expression allowed me to know he got the message.
“Very well, Mr. Dmitriyev. Then I’ll leave you to your evening. Ms. Zimmerman. Lovely to meet you.”
“Likewise,” she said as if he was nothing but a fly on the wall.
He threw me another look, one that was sizing up the competition, or in this case, the enemy. I already didn’t like or trust the man.
Ludolf walked away, disappearing into the hotel. I stood watching him, noticing he’d glanced over his shoulder also studying me. Even the man’s eyes were beady.
“Friendly guy,” she said sarcastically.
“Yes, well, from my experience, Germans aren’t known for their friendliness.”
“What about Russians?”
Laughing, I pulled out the chair, not giving her the opportunity to say no. “Oh, we’re friendly.”
Her smirk was a sweet reward.
There was something so inflammatory about the way she was looking at me. That’s when I noticed she had her phone in her hand instead of the book I’d seen earlier.
As she threw a hateful look toward the door Ludolf had walked into, she gave a sigh of relief.
“I’m sorry if he was bothering you,” I told her.
“Grumpy older men I can handle although he was pushy. Pushy men make my skin crawl.”
Throwing me a little shade. I loved it. “I’ll keep that in mind. He’s European. Something that will likely interfere with my meeting with him and his companions.” There was no reason to keep the meeting a secret.
“Are you suggesting that gives him the right to treat me as property?”
When I bristled visibly, her eyes opened wide. “Not allowed.”
“By you or in general?”
“Both.”
“Mmm… A meeting. The reason for your arrival on this adorable island.”
I nodded, trying to figure out what angle Ludolf had other than learning nuances about me and the company. “Yes, for a possible land development deal, a resort and casino.”
“Oh, I see. That’s what you’re into, developing gambling establishments.” There was a wry look on her face. That’s when I noticed she was actively scrolling through her phone.
She didn’t try to hide what she was looking at, which appeared to be a post on Instagram with my face on it.
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”
“Not at all. Just… different.”
“You’ve been spending your time wisely, looking into the corporation of the man you’re stuck with on a tropical island,” I told her just as the bartender approached. “Vodka. Chilled. No ice, two limes.”
“I am a careful woman.” She was trying not to smile.
I noticed she’d stuck with wine, although it appeared almost untouched.
“Yes, sir,” the man said while motioning to her mostly full glass.
“No, I’m fine, Hendrik. Thank you.”
“Bedankt mooie dame,” he said in turn.
“Je bent erg aardig,” she responded in his native Dutch language.
He smiled, nodding before walking away.
I was fucking impressed. “He’s right, you know.”
“What is he so right about?” She swirled the tip of her finger around the glass, barely lifting her gaze in my direction.
“You are a beautiful lady.”
I was rewarded with a glint in her eyes. “You know Dutch.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m fluent in several languages.”
She cocked her head as if my announcement was no big deal.
“That should mean something since obviously you are as well.”
While lifting her wineglass, she offered me a slight nod. “A benefit and necessity of my profession so you are correct. French. Spanish. Italian. German. What’s your excuse?”
“I’m not certain what you mean by that.”
“You obviously use languages in your business.” She removed her sunglasses, allowing me a direct moment of connection with her soulful eyes. My, oh, my. They had so many stories to tell.
“Yes, I do. I find it useful when attempting to discover who I can trust.”
“That must be very tough with what you do.”
What was she digging at? Now I wanted nothing more than to delve much deeper into what made her tick.
“Actually, you are correct, but I certainly learn some fascinating stories when people don’t think I know what they’re saying.
To answer your question, Dmitriyev Enterprises handles developments providing experiences, not just gambling. ”
Chuckling, she took a sip of her wine, casually glancing out at the water. “A perfect disguise. I’m curious if Jeffrey knows anything about the family he’s working for.” With her phone on the table, she casually entered in her passcode, glancing at the same post I’d seen her studying before.
“May I?” I asked as I reached over the table. As soon as our fingers touched, her mouth twitched just before she pulled her hand away.
“Go ahead.”
I pulled her phone close, glancing at the picture. It was from a few months before, an event held at Ecstasy, a resort under Mikhail’s purview.
“I must admit the photograph isn’t one of my better ones, but I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“I knew I’d heard your name before, but I couldn’t place from where. The Dmitriyev Bratva, casino kings of Las Vegas. However, a front for other operations. Yes?”
Wow. She wasn’t attempting to hide her curiosity about my world. Few people were so direct. I already enjoyed the banter.
“We’ve been called many things, but you are correct we’ve been labeled kings. Does that bother you?”
“No. The fact you’re Bratva does.”
Bratva. I’d seen people running away in fear from the mention of the powerful Russian mafia.
“And why is that?” Hendrik brought my drink, saying nothing as he placed the glass in front of me.
I shifted through a few additional pictures, a few from reporters and even a couple of guests. Whatever Instagram account she was looking at seemed devoted to our family. Or I should say to our regime. As I continued to scroll, I gathered a sense of why her sudden concern.
We had haters everywhere. My father and uncle would have never been able to tolerate social media attacks. They had no clue about its power or harm.
“Because members of Bratvas are typically brutal criminals who lie, cheat, and steal their way into getting what they want. I don’t associate with criminals. At least not intentionally. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have accepted the job.”
The last comment was said as if she had personal experience. My curiosity increased. “Wow. Now, isn’t that a little harsh?”
“I don’t think so.”
“While it would appear the owner of this account doesn’t mince words and certainly doesn’t value our business very much, I assure you that we aren’t keeping dead bodies in some cold underground cell if that’s what you’re worried about.”
My words surprised her, the sound of her laugh creating a strong need deep within. For a few seconds, all I could think about was running my fingers down her back while capturing her lips with mine, enjoying the feel of her body molded in such a way that I could feel every inch of her.
“So you’re admitting that you do kill people, but are smart enough not to keep the evidence lying around.”