A Virgin for His Prize (Ruthless Russians 2)

Maybe a little bit of both.

“It is a gift.” His expression dared her to deny it.

“Some gift,” was all she said.

“Grayson Enterprises is already improving.”

“With you at the helm, I have no doubt.”

“I am not exactly at the helm. I kept on the main management as I agreed to do for your father.”

“But you’ve given them both direction and limits, right?”

“Naturally.”

“Being your normal tsar-like self.”

“If you say so.”

“Oh, I do.” She leaned up and kissed him. “I have a strange desire to make love to a tsar. Do you know anyone who might fit the bill?”

He had and the time that followed had left them both replete and winded.

But memory of those blue scarves niggled at the back of her mind, reminding her that he wasn’t the only one holding something back in the emotions department.

* * *

Maxwell’s wedding day dawned bright, the sunshine burning through San Francisco’s morning fog.

Romi had spent the night before at her childhood home with Madison Beck.

Viktor had called to complain. “I don’t know why I have to spend the night before your wedding alone.”

“Because we will always give those two whatever they ask.” Which did not mean Maxwell loved Romi.

Just that he recognized how necessary her happiness was to his contentment.

Viktor didn’t bother denying the truth. “I have to admit I’m surprised you’re getting married, Maxwell.”

“Yes?”

“Business was always your mistress.”

“The same could be said of you.”

“Yes, well, as strange as it is to admit, there are things more important than business.” Viktor still sounded a little bewildered by that realization.

“I have always known it.” Recognition. Respect. These things were as important as his business success.

“I think we’re talking different things here.”

“You are happy with Madison.” Maxwell hadn’t made it a question because the truth was there for the most dull-witted to see and he was an astute observer of human nature.

“Happier than I knew it was possible to be.” Viktor did not sound embarrassed to admit it, either.

Giving Maxwell the impetus to make his own admission. “Romi fits me and my life perfectly.”

“That is good to hear. So, do you have someone to stand up with you?” Viktor asked.

Maxwell had not even considered it. “Do I need someone?”

Viktor made a comment about oblivious bastards.

“I do not suppose it is a task you would care to take on?” Who else would Maxwell ask?

Other than Viktor, he had no friends. Just business contacts and acquaintances.

“I would be honored.”

Maxwell breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Romi would have been unhappy if you’d been standing up there alone. She would have felt sorry for you.”

“No one ever need pity me.”

“Don’t I know it? But women see things differently.”

Maxwell chuckled. “You are barely married and suddenly you are an expert.”

“My grandmother told me.”

“Why did Mama not realize this?”

“I don’t know, I think your mom is still adjusting to her Maxika having another woman at the top of your priorities.”

“She is too pragmatic for such sentiment.”

“You don’t really believe that,” Viktor said pityingly.

And Maxwell realized the other man was probably right. “She wanted Romi to be sad?”

“Give Natalya the benefit of the doubt. Has she ever even attended a wedding?”

“Not since we emigrated.”

“There. She didn’t know.”

“Isn’t it common knowledge?”

“You didn’t know.”

There was a lot about social niceties Maxwell chose not to learn. If it didn’t enhance his business, he wasn’t interested.

“Thank you for telling me.”

“You are welcome. Just be grateful you don’t have to deal with the father-in-law from hell.”

“I thought you and Archer were friends.”

“We were, until he threatened to commit his daughter. He apologized, but I have random moments when I want to drop him from the windows in his top-floor corner office.”

Maxwell laughed. “Romi’s father is not mercenary. At all.”

“No.”

“He’s not weak, though.” Maxwell had thought at first the man was nothing but weakness.

He’d come to appreciate the strength it took to give oneself so completely.

It wasn’t in his makeup, or at least he’d always believed it wasn’t.

“Madison thinks he’s Mr. Dad.”

“Her and Romi both.”

The men shared a silent moment of understanding.

“Just think—you have something to look forward to,” Viktor said as they were preparing to hang up.

“What is that?”

“Considering how close Madison and Romi are, we will probably spend most major holidays together.”

The idiot was still laughing when the call disconnected.

But Maxwell wasn’t sure that was such a bad thing. Having a friend rather than friendly rival might actually be worth something.

He was remembering that conversation as he waited in the front of the church for Romi to enter.

A love song popular back in the seventies began to play and then Romi was there on her father’s arm.

The older Grayson looked a little rough around the edges, but better despite that. Romi was so beautiful, Maxwell’s heart tightened in his chest and it was not a new experience. He still wasn’t sure how to handle it though.

She wore a straight gown of pale ivory. It hung straight to the floor with daisy appliqués that were so her. She’d worn a veil like he asked, but it was attached to a 1920s-style headpiece.

Romi carried a bouquet of white daises tied together with ribbons of blue and dark gray.

He was sure Madison would insist the color was pewter.

It was only in that moment seeing the two colors entwined symbolically that he realized the gray ribbon was the color of his eyes.

Romi’s were shimmering with the love she told him of at least once a day. His favorite was when she called him my love while they were having sex.

It always made the experience hotter and more intense for him.

She looked nervous, too. And happy. And so completely focused on him, he actually started forward to join her rather than wait for her to come to him.

The titters that washed through their guests barely registered.

He only stayed in place because Viktor had grabbed his arm. “Don’t worry, she’s coming to you, Maxika.”

Even the diminutive use of his name was not enough to make him turn from the vision of his bride to glare at his best man and only friend.

Romi’s smile was blinding as she reached him. She leaned forward and whispered. “A little eager there, Maxika?”

Oh, hell. His mother had a lot to answer for. That name was never going to leave him. He just knew it.

“Very eager to make you mine,” he replied, making no effort to keep his own voice down.

Even the priest cracked a smile at that.

The wedding went by in a blur. Everything except the promises.

He soaked in every word of Romi’s vows, pulling them deep into his soul.

She seemed to be doing the same and when he

ended his vows with a “No expiration date,” she started to cry.

Thank goodness he got to kiss her then. He hated to see the woman cry. Even if it was in happiness.