From Russia With Claws Read online

  Papa turned to Irina. “Irina, how did you fall?”

  “I tripped, Papa, and cut my arm. Viktor patched me up. I’ll be fine,” she said.

  Galina stared. Irina was backing him up on his lie? She huffed out a frustrated breath. If Irina wouldn’t tell Papa, then she would.

  But then she saw the resignation on Irina’s face. Her sister knew that Papa would buy whatever lie he had to in order to keep from admitting what a mess his oldest son was. No matter what Galina or her sister said, he would always back Alexei.

  Ilya examined Viktor’s face, which remained blank as a slate. “Well, Irina has always been a bit clumsy.”

  Galina huffed out a frustrated breath. Well, if he was going to be willfully blind, he could at least handle the expense of furnishing Irina with a new wardrobe. “By the way, Alexei destroyed all of Irina’s clothes, Papa.”

  Ilya’s gaze swung back to his oldest. “Alexei, why would you do such a thing?”

  Alexei looked decidedly un-wolf-like as his mouth flapped open.

  Galina grinned, giving her brother an evil look. “Yes, Alexei, what possessed you to shred all of Irina’s clothes?”

  Alexei snarled at her.

  “Alexei, control yourself,” Ilya warned him.

  “It was a misunderstanding, Papa,” Alexei protested. “Right, Irina?”

  Irina’s mouth dropped open. “Uh…”

  Ilya surveyed the damaged clothes scattered across the floor. “Do you have anything left to wear, Irina?”

  When Irina didn’t answer, Papa took her silence for a “no,” and began patting his jacket pocket for his wallet. “Well, Alexei, since you have left your sister without any proper clothes, I suppose she must go shopping for more. On your account. Clearly, you’re not ready to have this back yet.” Ilya pulled a shiny black credit card from his wallet and pressed it into Irina’s hand. “Go now, babochka, buy yourself some pretty things. Enjoy yourself.” He patted her cheek. “You deserve to have a little fun.”

  “Papa, I can’t let you or Alexei pay for—” Irina began.

  “What a generous gesture, Papa,” Galina said, her voice saccharine sweet. She snatched the card from Papa’s hand. She wasn’t going to let her sister go all noble and let Alexei weasel out of replacing the wardrobe he’d ruined. She whispered, “Don’t be an idiot, Rina. Grab your purse, I’m calling Franny.”

  “But Irina is still in seclusion!” Alexei yelled, his face flushing an unattractive shade of magenta against his black shirt. “It’s not proper for her to be out until the full moon.”

  Ilya ignored his son’s protests, making Galina smile. “Viktor, you will accompany the ladies anywhere they wish to go,” Ilya commanded. “Be sure to keep Irina from ‘falling’ again.”

  Galina bustled her sister out the door before their father could change his mind.

  13

  How to Take a Really Expensive Nap

  ALEXEI WOULD NOT STOP TALKING. The meeting could have ended a half hour ago, but Alexei kept jabbering on about God alone knew what. His pupil-blown gaze ricocheted around the room like a ping pong ball shot from a cannon and he had to mop at his sweaty brow every few moments. Galina was thoroughly disgusted.

  Nik had tried to interrupt with more pressing business, but Alexei was like a dog with a pig’s ear. Galina snuck a look at Andrey, who sat farther down the table. He looked amused, a small smile playing over his lips, as Alexei’s talk grew more and more unhinged.

  Papa looked in danger of apoplexy. His jaw was clenched so tightly that Galina was fairly certain they were going to have to call Franny to come and replace his back molars because they’d been ground into paste. He resisted doing anything to cause Alexei to lose face, showing him for the spoiled child he was, but Galina had no such problem.

  Slowly she climbed to her feet. All eyes turned toward her, leaving Alexei to ramble on for a few moments before he realized that no one was paying him any attention. Ilya raised his brows, but said nothing.

  “Gentlemen,” she began, keeping her voice low, but firm. Let them lean in to hear her speak, let them get used to having to listen to her. “As fascinating as my brother’s report has been, I regret that I have other appointments to attend.” She gifted everyone at the table with a dazzling smile.

  “Those shoes aren’t going to buy themselves,” Alexei snarked. A few of the older men snickered.

  Galina’s smile grew wider. Just the opening she’d been hoping for. “Actually, Alexei, I have a meeting with a buyer. I would hate to keep a man willing to pay a million dollars for fourteenth-century jewelry waiting. That would be rude and Papa taught us better than that.”

  Murmurings began to circulate around the table. Alexei looked murderous; Papa looked proud. Nik winked at her. If she’d wanted to show that her line of business was profitable, she couldn’t have asked for a better opening. She should really send Alexei a fruit basket or something as a thank you.

  Ilya stood as well. “I think we’ve all had enough talk for today,” he said to those assembled. When it looked as though Alexei was going to protest, Papa put his hand on his shoulder, keeping him in his seat. Galina could see the fingers on her father’s hand go white from the exertion it took to keep Alexei seated. “Thank you all for coming.”

  As the men around the table rose to depart, Papa said, “Andreyev, Galina, stay a moment, would you?”

  Galina shared a glance with Andrey, arching a brow. What was her father up to? He couldn’t possibly know about them. Andrey’s eyes sparkled with mirth. He was enjoying this immensely. She felt a churning in her gut. She really didn’t like surprises.

  When the room was empty, Papa released Alexei and went over to the bar. He poured himself a generous glass of Stoli. “Would anyone care for one?”

  Andrey shook his head. “No thank you.”

  Alexei got up and left the table as quickly as his legs would carry him, barely managing not to slam the door behind him. Nikolai rolled his eyes at Galina before following him. She covered her mouth to hide her smirk. Her oldest brother was like a giant, unstable baby that could turn into a ravening beast once a month.

  “You know I have a box at the ballet,” Papa began. Andrey nodded politely. Everyone knew Papa had box seats. He loved the ballet. “I would like it very much if you’d join me and my family for the opening performance of Swan Lake.”

  Galina’s eyes narrowed. Just what the hell was going on? Then it hit her and she felt the blood drain from her face. No. He couldn’t possibly…

  His next words removed any doubt from her mind. “My daughter Irina will be there. I know she would like it very much if you would attend.”

  Galina had to fight back scornful laughter. Irina barely knew Andrey existed outside of a “condolences” flower arrangement. She was so entwined with Viktor it would take a nuclear bomb going off to pull her off of that man. She dug her fingernails into her palms in an effort not to react.

  “It would be my pleasure,” Andrey said, carefully not looking at Galina. “I can’t imagine anything finer than spending the evening in the company of your lovely daughter.”

  Andrey was smooth. He hadn’t said which daughter. Galina had to give him points for that. And it wasn’t like he could actually refuse to go. It was a huge deal for Papa to invite him. It was just good business for him to say yes.

  It didn’t make Galina any happier to think of it that way though.

  “Galina, I trust you don’t have plans for that evening,” Papa said, in a voice that told her that even if she did, she’d be canceling them so she could attend this latest farce.

  “Of course not, Papa,” she replied with icy clarity. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

  “Excellent. Maksim will be there as well.”

  Seething silently, Galina listened to Papa bend Andrey’s ear about his abiding love for the ballet. Her father’s attempts at matchmaking had to be stopped. Galina had had nothing to do with Maksim since that horrible chase through the woods. E
ven if he did have breeding and money and the right family, Galina couldn’t imagine being with him for five minutes, let alone the rest of her life.

  And Irina and Andrey? She felt the blood drain from her face as she realized that Papa must know about the stolen shipment. Why else would he be offering Irina? He couldn’t offer up his legitimate daughter—she knew Papa wouldn’t waste her lineage on a lowly Rom—but he could offer up Irina as reparation for her husband’s mistake. He was handing off her sister like she was some kind of consolation prize. Just like he had with Sergei.

  Galina wanted to be sick.

  Andrey was good enough for Irina, but not good enough for Galina. So Irina was going to be married off to a man she didn’t love—again—and Galina was being saved for a caviar magnate’s idiot son who thought Alexei was a proper role model. She wanted to scream.

  Galina excused herself quickly, unwilling to spend another minute in that room having to put a polite smile on her face. Her meeting with her client wasn’t for another hour. She wanted to hit the gym, to take out some frustration on a heavy bag, but she didn’t have enough time. She thought about stopping for a drink at the hotel bar, but thought better of it. She wasn’t in the mood for company.

  Andrey caught up to her before she’d even made it past the hotel lounge. He put his hand under her elbow and steered her away from the doors and into the VIP elevator. She allowed it, because jerking her arm away and storming off would cause a scene in the middle of the lobby. As much as she’d like to, she couldn’t afford it.

  “So you’re dating my sister now?” she began as soon as the doors swished closed.

  “Not to my knowledge.” Andrey’s eyes were a silvery grey as he stared down at her. “I’m not interested in Irina.”

  “My father appears to think otherwise.” Galina took a step back, needing space between them. His nearness was doing strange things to her breathing. And she couldn’t afford to think with her lady parts right now.

  He followed her, hitting the button to stop the elevator between floors. “I don’t care what your father thinks.” Andrey leaned in close, sliding his mouth up the column of her neck. “Your father isn’t here right now.”

  And thank God for that. What the hell was she doing with Andrey? He was supposed to be a bit of fun: some amazing sex, a few laughs, and a story to tell Irina when it was all over. She wasn’t supposed to be feeling anything. Something bubbled in her gut that felt curiously like jealousy and possessiveness. She’d never felt that about a man—any man—before.

  Andrey’s lips hovered close to hers. His eyes had that smoky half-lidded look that he got just before he kissed her. His body was close to her, but not touching, and still her brain was short circuiting. “Tell my father you can’t make it,” she said before she could stop herself.

  He pulled back, surprise on his face. “What?”

  Galina pushed him away so she could hit the button to get the elevator moving again. “Make something up. An emergency, an act of God, a tragic boating accident. I don’t care. Just don’t come to the ballet.”

  His generous mouth turned down in a frown. “You know I can’t do that.”

  Galina shook her head, her blond hair falling across her eyes. Of course he couldn’t. And she wasn’t sure if she could sit there and watch him play nice with Irina without wanting to scream. She hit the button for the next floor, needing to put some space between them. She didn’t know what was happening to her.

  “Galina,” Andrey said, lightly touching her arm.

  She shook him off. “Don’t.”

  The doors opened and she was out of the elevator and down the hall toward the stairs before Andrey could say anything else.

  Galina inspected herself in the mirror one last time before heading down to meet the hired car. Papa had ordered all of them to the ballet tonight. He always purchased a box at McCaw Hall for the season and tonight was the opening of the Pacific Northwest Ballet Company’s performance of Swan Lake. Ordinarily, Galina would have been thrilled to get dressed up and watch a beautiful performance of just about anything, but tonight left a sour taste in her mouth.

  Andrey was coming with them. As Irina’s date.

  And since the evening wasn’t awkward enough, Papa had invited Maksim as well. Galina couldn’t imagine a less fun way to spend an evening.

  She applied a touch more mascara to her lashes. Her dress was a deep purple Eli Saab embellished with silver beads. It made her green eyes stand out like jade from the artfully applied shadow. Her nails were painted a dark burgundy purple called F*ck You. She frowned. She looked amazing. It was going to be totally and completely wasted.

  Stepping into a pair of Gianvito Rossi peep toes, she grabbed her glittery clutch from the side of the vanity and headed down to the Maybach and driver she’d rented for the evening. The swirl of fabric against the flesh of her bare hips—she had foregone underwear as a way of passive-aggressively giving the finger to everyone in general and Andrey in particular—made her feel delightfully evil.

  She spent the drive to the theater on the phone, contacting a wealthy buyer who collected ancient werewolf artifacts. She’d met him when she was working on her Masters, and it was he who had given her the idea of introducing high-end art smuggling as a line of the family business. There were plenty of wealthy collectors, both were and non-were, who would pay handsomely for art that couldn’t be legally obtained.

  This particular patron wanted a chalice from the early fifteenth century that had recently come to light on a dig site in Europe. She had a contact in place overseas to secure the item and get it here, but she needed to negotiate price. He’d hung up promising to call her with a desired delivery time frame and payment information.

  When she stepped out of the car and made her way inside, Galina was feeling pretty confident that she would be able to handle whatever the evening held in store for her. She was making progress on establishing her line of the family business, she had a deal to occupy her mind, and she looked amazing. She could ignore Andrey playing the gallant knight errant with her sister and fawning all over her father. She could ignore Alexei being a chauvinistic jackwagon. If she ended up losing her patience, she could always hit the bar at intermission.

  Nodding at the attendant who held the door for her, she crossed the marble floor of the atrium. She stopped just inside the door to take a moment and collect herself before heading up the massive double spiral staircase that would take her to the second floor and the private box where she’d spend the next several hours pretending that everything was peachy keen.

  His scent hit her well before she heard him say, “May I take your wrap, Galina?”

  Bracing herself against the sight of Andrey in a tuxedo, she slowly turned around. She almost turned back around to give herself more bracing time. Andrey looked like sin given flesh, so handsome that she almost didn’t notice Konstantin standing a discreet distance behind him. Andrey’s black hair was combed back from his forehead, highlighting the strong bones of his face. His pale eyes swept over her, taking in her face and dress. She felt a flutter in her stomach. Her eyes dipped down, tracing the breadth of shoulders in his black tuxedo jacket, the line of his strong thighs through the fabric of his pants.

  Galina met his eyes, feeling it like a physical impact. This night was going to be harder than she thought. Still, she was going to try to make the best of it. “Thank you, Andreyev.” She slid the wrap from her shoulders, revealing the deep V neckline of her dress. His nostrils flared and his pupils dilated as he took in the expanse of flesh being unveiled.

  They walked to the coat check, the silence between them charged with anticipation. There was so much unsaid between them. Galina watched Andrey hand the wrap to the attendant and accepted the ticket, trying hard not to stare at him. She kept her eyes on his hands, but then she remembered how they felt sliding over her body when they were in the hotel room. She looked toward the doors to see Maksim arrive with Alexei. Irina followed with Ilya and Viktor.
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  He touched her bare arm, causing her flesh to prickle with sensation. “Galya,” he began.

  “Looks like your date’s here,” she murmured, inclining her head to the atrium and her incoming family. She saw his genial mask slide in place and excused herself to go to the powder room.

  She waited in the lounge area for a good ten minutes, listening to the gossip and chatter of the women who came and went. Galina checked her phone for messages, hoping for something to distract her but there were no new calls. Finally, when she couldn’t put it off any longer, she made her way to the base of the staircase and allowed Nik to escort her to the family’s box.

  “Galya!” her father called, giving her a hug and a peck on each cheek when he saw her. She greeted everyone, even Alexei who acted like he hadn’t heard her, and then tried to disappear into the background, willing her phone to vibrate.

  Maksim took her hand in his fingertips, kissing the air above her hand as if afraid to touch her more than he needed to. He was finally wearing something that fit him properly. His hair was slicked back and he was wearing a pinky ring. Galina glanced at Alexei, noting that he wore something similar.

  “You look lovely,” Maksim told her, before turning to her sister. “As do you, Mrs. Volkov.” He sounded incredibly bored.

  Irina nodded. “You are too kind.” She was wearing a grey Grecian style dress matched with a set of sapphire hair combs that Galina coveted.

  The lights began to dim. Papa occupied his usual seat on the end of the first row, with the best view of the stage. Alexei nearly shoved Nikolai over the railing into the seats below in his hurry to sit at Papa’s right hand. Maksim moved to the chair next to Alexei. Nik sat, leaving only one seat left in the front row.

  “Oh, you have to take this seat, Andrey,” Irina said, gesturing to the seat like it was a prize on a game show. “Papa always says the end seats have the best view of the stage.”