The Master (The Game Maker 2)

Yesterday with him had been sublime. We'd wrestled in the pool, and he'd chased me around, and I'd let him catch me for sex.

Later when I'd prepped marinade for grilling and cooked dessert, he'd stayed in the kitchen to help. He'd asked me to speak more Spanish around him. Easy enough to oblige. But did he have to pick it up so quickly? He'd been reading food packages in Spanish.

Last night he'd taken me down from the tower to go running on the beach. I'd been uneasy at first--until I'd remembered what my running partner was.

Nearly six and a half feet of hard-bodied Russian ruthlessness.

The only thing that could make me hornier from running? Covering miles with him. Luckily, I'd been rewarded with another hit of aggressive, sweaty-man sex. On the beach. Behind a palm tree.

Life could be sweet.

But I remained confused about what was going on between us. How much longer would we be together? My being a weekend date was one thing. Returning to Russia with him was outside the realm of possibility.

So why had he spent so much money on me?

This morning's message on the mirror had only confused me more. He'd responded to my all the way to Nebraska quip with a cryptic reply: Why stop there?

Maxim lowered his paper. "So you've obviously never lived where it snows. Already I know you grew up on the coast."

I forced a smile. "How's that?"

"Children in Iowa don't often tell their mother they'll sail away." The search engine had two more variables. "Perhaps you are from Miami. Or the coast of Texas. Maybe Southern California?"

When I shrugged, my new bra rubbed my nipples, and I shivered at the contact. They were still sensitive days after he'd clamped them. Since then, the peaks were constantly hard, visible even now against my red cashmere V-neck.

The devil noticed my reaction and grinned. I told him in Spanish that my revenge would be sweet and unexpected.

He set away the journal. "You should know, I called Vasili off from his investigation of you. He was very disappointed."

Maxim had? "That explains the man's behavior earlier." When he'd driven us to the executive airport in Sevastyan's Bentley Mulsanne, the bodyguard/driver/right-hand man had glowered at me. As we'd boarded the jet, he'd cast me another surly look before he'd adjourned to the cockpit. Ever protective of "boss."

I'd asked Maxim, "What will it take to get a smile out of that man?"

"Your real name and ID. That's all he wants out of life. And possibly almond candies."

Now Maxim said, "Before then, Vasili had men turn Tampa upside down. You never lived there, did you?"

"I never told you I did. Why did you call him off?"

"Because you'll confide in me. Soon."

"You sound assured." Over the last two days, he'd been making me wonder: what if I recruited Maxim's help against Edward? This morning in the bathroom, I'd gazed into the mirror to practice what I'd say. I'd attempted to murmur the words, "I'm married to a murderer who wants me dead," and only air passed my lips. My lungs had seized up, as if a weight pressed down on them.

Maxim said, "I am assured. You're learning to trust me."

What if I . . . did? The level of faith that would require . . . I didn't know if my withered up trust was capable of reaching that level. How could I be expected to run on a limb that was shriveled and broken?

His gaze met mine. "I want what's best for you. You can trust me."

I glanced away. That was exactly what Edward had told me when I'd said, "I don't understand why I have to sign all these papers."

For so long, I'd followed my rules, trusting no one. I'd remained alone--and alive. I'd been silent--and hidden. How could I fly in the face of that?

Over the years, I'd learned to equate secrecy with survival. In my mind, to willfully break a rule was to call Edward down upon me.

I knew it was crazy. That didn't make it any less real to me. Had my psyche been damaged by my predicament? I don't see how it couldn't have been. No one should have to go through life imagining what a knife wound would feel like. . . .

"Katya?"

"Que cosa? Huh?" Clearing my throat, I changed the subject. "Vasili is very loyal. How did you meet him?"

The look Maxim gave me told me he'd allowed me off the hook. "Vasili was about to be executed for a mob hit I knew he didn't commit."

"Por Dios. How did you know?"

"I was blackmailing the man who ordered the hit. I struggled with the decision to save Vasili or not. It was my first major blackmail scheme, and I was poised to collect many favors from a powerful man. In the end, I anonymously mailed the evidence to Vasili's advocate. Then Vasili turned around--and somehow tracked down me, pointing out my vulnerabilities. Hat in hand, he asked to work for me. How could I say no?"

"That doesn't seem very heartless."

"Perhaps scheming, then? I saved his life once, and he's protected mine ever since. Forfeiting my gain was the best investment I ever made." With a heated glance, he said, "At least until you came along."

"Ha. Que comico. Speaking of investments--what are you thinking for a wedding gift?"

"A stallion for their stable. One that wasn't for sale."

Of course.

He opened his ever-present briefcase, pulling out my phone. "You get this back." He handed it to me.

"Did you break my code and read everything?"

"Code-locked phones are surprisingly secure. I could have cracked it, but I would risk damaging all your data. And again, you'll confide in me soon anyway."

I shielded the screen, entered my code, then reviewed my texts with him. I'd had no idea how much this man was going to mean to me. I added him as a contact: M Sevastyan, then I checked my voice mail. Mrs. Abernathy had left a reminder that I'd confirmed cleaning on the thirty-first.

I was listening to a message like that while flying on a private jet. Joke's on you, Abernathy.

I asked Maxim, "Did I earn this for good behavior?"

"In case we get separated over the weekend, and you need to call."

"When will we be separated? I thought we were all staying at the same place." A lodge built around some historic manse, a location chosen by Natalie's mother.

Maxim said, "You might go into the nearby town with Natalie and her best friend, Jessica. They're your age. I suspect you're about to make new friends."

"Non-escort friends?"

"You said it; I didn't."

"Are they stiff? Or snobby? What if they don't like me?"

"Natalie is very warm. I met Jessica on my last trip to Nebraska and found her to be . . . colorful. They're going to love you."

"Dmitri won't be there?"

"Nyet."

"I got the impression that he is pissed about this wedding." The man had been blowing up Maxim's phone as usual. Over the last two days, whenever Maxim had talked to him, he'd dragged me into his lap and stroked my hair, which seemed to soothe him. That close, I could hear Dmitri yelling in Russian, sounding enraged. Maxim would talk to him in a monotone, trying to calm his disturbed brother.

"He wants nothing good for Aleksandr," Maxim said. "Marrying the lovely daughter of a legendary billionaire is quite a favorable turn for our older brother. But I've set my mind to mending the breach between Aleksandr and Dmitri. Someone recently told me I should lead by example."

"I don't know who said that, but she sounds like the smartest person in the world."

"I'm beginning to suspect so."

I tucked my boots under me on the couch. "How did Aleksandr meet Natalie?"

"Her father, Pavel Kovalev, adopted him when he was young, becoming my brother's beloved mentor."

"Aleksandr was adopted because he was separated from you and Dmitri?"

Maxim nodded, but still wouldn't expand. "Kovalev never knew he had a biological child until Natalie searched for her birth parents. When the man discovered she was his, he dispatched Aleksandr to Nebraska to watch over her."

"Why would she need to be watched over?"

"Koval

ev was embroiled in a war against another mafiya boss, Travkin. The man learned of Natalie just when Kovalev did. Travkin put out a contract on Kovalev--and his birth daughter."

What was I walking into? Had I jumped from the frying pan into the fire?

"Two weeks after Natalie arrived in Russia, a distant cousin decided to cash in, bringing a machine gun into Kovalev's home. Desperate to protect Natalie and Aleksandr, Kovalev tried to talk down the man. The gun went off, spraying bullets. Aleksandr could have saved either Kovalev or Natalie."

"He had to choose?" I understood how quickly a pistol could go off. I couldn't imagine a machine gun.

Maxim nodded. "Aleksandr tackled Natalie to the ground. Kovalev died in front of her."

"She saw him die? And she only got to know him for half a month?" That poor girl! Though I only had impressions of my father, for two decades I'd known that I was loved by him. "What happened to the contract? Is she still in danger?"

"Not at all. My brother walked into Travkin's favorite haunt, right in the middle of all the man's muscle, and shot the fuck in the face."

"You realize you couldn't sound prouder."

"I know."

Maxim would have zero problems with what I'd accidentally done to Julia.

"Any man who would target an innocent girl like Natalie deserved what he got and worse."

Maxim, meet Edward. "Is there worse than being shot in the face?" As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I knew the answer. What was worse than being stabbed? Being butchered.

Maxim stilled, his tone growing icy. "You have no idea."

I almost shivered at his expression.

"After that, Kovalev's billion-dollar syndicate was in chaos, and Aleksandr didn't know who he could trust among Kovalev's men. He took Natalie into hiding, calling on me to help secure her father's lands and operations in Russia," Maxim said. "If not for the man's death, I would not be at this wedding."

"Why?"