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The random thought that he didn’t smell like the Shlykov brothers burst into her and displaced her. She realized that even if she were blindfolded and spun around until she was dizzy, she would still be able to pick them out by their individual scent, by the way her body reacted to them.
“Argh,” she said, annoyed with herself but then turned her attention to the man before her. “I’m sorry. Can I help you? Do I know you?”
“You do not know me. Like I said, my name is Anton, and I can help you.” He was reasonably good-looking and very well dressed and was also a far cry from the Shlykov brothers. Her glance fell on the two guys on either side of him. They looked fierce and scary, and every part of her body told her she should leave.
“What makes you think I need help?” Even as she asked the question, she groaned. She really was just a sucker for trouble. Besides, what was it with her and Russians these days?
“I can help you keep your word to Marjorie Brown. I can help you keep Cupid’s Toys open and operating. Would you listen to me, Miss King? Again, I wish you no harm. Let’s just enjoy a light brunch at that cafe over there, where we can talk.”
She frowned and hesitated. He seemed harmless enough. She couldn’t say the same about the peeps on either side of him.
“Oh, please, don’t mind them. They are just my friends and here to keep me company. I can help you with your friend’s shop, the one that is yours now I believe? If you let me.”
She also didn’t have to wonder how he knew so much about the sex shop. She had made it her job to have it blasted all over the internet and then some.
“I believe in your cause, Miss King,” he continued smoothly. There was something about his Russian accent she found off. He sounded nothing like the Shlykov brothers, and that was the reason why he sounded off. Her whole thought processes about them annoyed her, and her life would be infinitely better if they just didn’t exist.
“I believe that small businesses should be given a chance to remain and to flourish and that greedy businessmen like the Shlykov brothers, who are worth multiple billion dollars already, should let that happen. I want to look out for the small guy because I, too, am a small guy.”
“How? How can you help me keep Cupid’s Toys open?”
“Let’s talk,” he said and gestured she lead the way to the cafe.
The truth remained she was desperate. She had no idea what else to do to keep Marjorie’s shop safe. And there was no harm in listening to him.
“Thank you,” she said and led the way into the restaurant. She felt safe inside because it was a place she frequented often herself, and the waitstaff and the owner knew her well.
They settled around a table and ordered coffee.
“How can you help me, Mr. Kozlov? But first, how do you know the Shlykov brothers?”
“We go a long way back, but first, can I just say you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life,” Anton said and then took her hand.
Her whole intention had been to snatch her hand away immediately. She couldn’t understand the creepy feeling that slithered over her whole body at this touch. As if no man was meant to touch her, not afterthem.
But before she could act, the atmosphere of the chic café changed from cozy to deadly.
The vintage Venetian glass doors were yanked open with such force, the front windows rattled. Diners gasped in shock and rose from the tables, toppling over their chairs to hide from the unknown threats who had blasted through the door.
Ansley didn’t have the luxury of running for cover, although that would have been nice.
She stared in astonishment at the three preposterously gorgeous men who had entered and reined fear with their presence.
And then she remembered why they would be so thunderously mad. They had discovered her latest masterpiece in making their lives miserable enough that they backed away from Marjorie’s shop.
Images of what she had commissioned filled her vision. From funny but compromising images of them with a variety of sex toys. And they were very funny because Roland manipulated all of their expressions so they were their true grumpy selves. The best was a cartoon episode with a blow-up doll that they had used. Okay, the fact that they used them was implied and now discarded. Captions of the doll saying things like, “I love you, please don’t destroy me" were meant as a plea to not close the shop. She thought they were great and displayed cute artistic ability. But the Shlykov brothers didn’t see it that way.
She swallowed at the sight of the fury on their faces. Were they really that mad at her for the images? It wasn’t a huge escalation from the protest she had orchestrated outside of their building. It was on the same level. But they were furious and looked ready to rip off heads.
She caught the lethal glint in their eyes as their gazes fell onto her fingers still clasped in Anton Kozlov’s hand, who seemed as shocked by their appearance as everyone else.
Guilt settled in her bones. Why she had no idea. Why should she feel guilty that another man had touched her damn fingers? They didn’t own her. And yet scalding heat rose to her neck and into her cheeks.
Before she could snatch her hand away from Anton, one of his big, beefy friends who had drawn aweapon,had a saucer shoved into his mouth and his bald head indented with a brass vase before he could do anything else.
The other one was already lying unconscious on the floor with Roman calmly dusting his hands off after digging into a breadbasket. He casually stepped over the sleeping giant as he picked up the insentient man’s gun and submerged it into a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice.
“All right. Out. Everyone out,” Roman said rather calmly, and he didn’t have to repeat his words. Every person in the café scrambled out, fearing for their lives, even the owner, who thanked them before escaping out the door.
