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“Hide and seek?” He frowns at me.
“What? You’re telling me you don’t know how to play it?” I tease.
“Well…” His little shoulders rise in a shrug. “Not very well. Papa isn’t…very good at games.”
Yeah.
He’s good at other games.
“All the more reason for us to play,” I say brightly. “This house is big enough to get lost in for hours!”
His face brightens. “That’s true. And I know some really good hiding places,” he says.
“See? You might be able to keep me hunting for hours!” I grin as I say it, considering where he might hide. The hallway down from Niko’s room is lined with doors leading to linen closets and guest suites. Though I imagine he’ll be more creative; the kid’s smart. . Nikolai dashes off with a laugh, and I wait until his footsteps fade before making my way upstairs.
“Coming ready or not!” I call out. There are muffled giggles filtering from nearby. “Nikolai? Where are youuuu?” I call out in a sing-song tone. There’s silence this time. I make my way along the hall, opening doors and peering in.
“I wonder if he’s down in the kitchen!” I yell, hoping to prompt another giggle. Still nothing. In fact, it’s suddenly so quiet, I’m wondering if he’s actually left the house. I open more doors, and then, I stop. I’m standing in front of Anton’s bedroom.
Crap.
I hesitate with my hand on the doorknob. He’d expressly forbidden me from entering his bedroom.
Forbidden, huh?
Screw that!
I push the door open and step inside, then take in a sharp breath. The aroma of sandalwood and spice fills my senses in a wave. I run my fingers along the edge of his dresser, imagining his strong hands gripping my hips as he thrust into me from behind. My heart races at the thought.
What is this man doing to me?
Anton’s bedroom is even more spartan than I expected, though the enormous bed dominates the space. My gaze lingers on it, heat flaring in my cheeks. I tear my eyes away, sweeping my attention elsewhere – anywhere but there.
Shaking off the memories, I turn to study the photos on his dresser. One in particular catches my eye: Anton with a beautiful woman, cradling a newborn in her arms. His wife, I assume, and that must be Nikolai. Though there are no other photos of them together.
Curious.
The next photo stops me cold. Anton stands with a group of men, all bearing a striking resemblance to one another with their dark, hard gazes and air of barely restrained violence. They look…familiar, somehow.
Where have I seen them before? I rack my brain, but the memory eludes me. Whoever they are, they’re clearly nothing short of danger. I frown harder, grasping at the tendrils of something. And then it hits me.
Fuck!
Holy fuck!
That’s Sergei Volkov!
The man’s the head of the freaking Russian mafia. There was a time he was all over the news. He even made it to Interpol’s top wanted list, but they never actually managed to catch up with him.
Holy shit!
And he just stands there, with an arm over Anton’s shoulder as if they’re old frat buddies. My heart is suddenly all the way up in my throat. I swallow hard as I consider the implications of this. If Anton is in league with this devil, it’s no wonder his security is airtight. Even a petty thief like me knows better than to mess around with guys like him.
I’m a small fish in that big pool. Except now I’m swimming with a shark.
Oh my God.
What the hell am I involved with?
