Not Just the Boss's Plaything(38)

       
           



       

"This is where you save yourself," he ground out at her.

She smiled at him, though more tears spilled from her eyes. She held him    as if she had no intention of letting him go. She looked at him as if    he was precious. Even now. "And then who saves you?"





 CHAPTER TEN

NIKOLAI'S HANDS SLIPPED from the marble column behind her, his arms came    around her, and he held her so tightly, so closely, that Alicia  wasn't   sure she could breathe.

And she didn't care.

He held her like that for a long time.

A member of the hotel staff came over to quietly inquire if all was    well, and she waved him away. A trio of black-suited people who could    only be part of Nikolai's pack of assistants appeared, and she frowned    at them until they backed off.

And outside, in the courtyard of the former palace, it began to snow.

Nikolai let out a long, shaky breath and lifted his head. He kissed her, so soft and so sweet it made her smile.

"If I had a heart, I would give it to you," he said then, very seriously. "But I don't."

She shook her head at him, and kissed him back, losing herself in that    for a long time. His eyes were haunted, and she loved him so much she    didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry or scream-it seemed too big  to   contain.

And he loved her, too. He'd as much as said so. He just didn't know what that meant.

So Alicia would have to show him. Step by step, smile by smile, laugh by laugh, until he got it. Starting now.

"You have a heart, Nikolai," she told him gently, smiling up at that    beautifully hard face, that perfectly austere mouth, her would-be Tin    Man. "It's just been broken into so many pieces, and so long ago, you    never learned how to use it properly."

"You're the only one who thinks so," he said softly.

She reached out and laid her hand on his chest, never looking away from him.

"I can feel it. It's right here. I promise."

"And I suppose you happen to know how one goes about putting back    together a critically underused heart, no doubt fallen into disrepair    after all these years," he muttered, but his hands were moving slow and    sweet up her back and then down her arms to take her hands in his.

"I have a few ideas," she agreed. "And your heart is not a junked-out    car left by the side of a road somewhere, Nikolai. It's real and it's    beating and you've been using it all along."

He looked over his shoulder then, as if he'd only then remembered where    they were. One of his assistants appeared from around the corner as if    she'd been watching all along, and he nodded at her, but didn't move.    Then he looked out the glass doors, at the snow falling into the    golden-lit courtyard and starting to gather on the ground.

"I hate snow," he said.

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Ebenezer Scrooge," Alicia said dryly. She    slid an arm around his waist and looked outside. "It's beautiful. A    fairy tale," she said, smiling at him, "just as you promised me in the    beginning."

"I think you're confused." But she saw that smile of his. It started in    his eyes, made them gleam. "I promised you fangs. And tears. Both of    which I've delivered, in spades."

"There are no wolves in a story involving ball gowns, Nikolai. I believe that's a rule."

"Which fairy tale is this again? The ones I remember involved very few    ball gowns, and far more darkness." His mouth moved into that crooked    curve she adored, but his eyes were serious when they met hers. "I  don't   know how to be a normal man, Alicia. Much less a good one." His  smile   faded. "And I certainly don't know how to be anything like good  for   you."

Alicia smiled at him again, wondering how she'd never known that the    point of a heart was to break. Because only then could it grow. And    swell big enough to hold the things she felt for Nikolai.

"Let's start with normal and work from there," she managed to say. "Come    to Christmas at my parents' house. Sit down. Eat a huge Christmas    dinner. Make small talk with my family." She grinned. "I think you'll do    fine."                       
       
           



       

He looked at her, that fine mouth of his close again to grim.

"I don't know if I can be what you want," he said. "I don't know-"

"I want you," she said. She shook her head when he started to speak.    "And all you have to do is love me. As best you can, Nikolai. For as    long as you're able. And I'll promise to do the same."

It was like a vow. It hung there between them, hushed and huge, with only the falling snow and the dark Prague night as witness.

He looked at her for a long time, and then he leaned down and kissed her    the way he had on that London street. Hard and demanding, hot and   sure,  making her his.

"I can do that," he said, when he lifted his head, a thousand brand-new    promises in his eyes, and she believed every one. "I can try."

* * *

Nikolai stood facing his brother on a deep blue July afternoon. The    California sky arched above them, cloudless and clear, while out beyond    them the Pacific Ocean rolled smooth and gleaming all the way to the    horizon.

"Are you ready?" Ivan barked in gruff Russian. He wore his game face,    the one he'd used in the ring, fierce and focused and meant to be    terrifying.

Nikolai only smiled.

"Is this the intimidating trash talk portion of the afternoon?" he asked    coolly. "Because I didn't sign up to be bored to death, Vanya. I    thought this was a fight."

Ivan eyed him.

"You insist on writing checks you can't cash, little brother," he said. "And sadly for you, I am the bank."

They both crouched down into position, studying each other, looking for tells-

Until a sharp wail cut through the air, and Ivan broke his stance to    look back toward his Malibu house and the figures who'd walked out from    the great glass doors and were heading their way.

Nikolai did a leg sweep without pausing to think about it, and had the great satisfaction of taking Ivan down to the ground.

"You must never break your concentration, brother," he drawled,    patronizingly, while Ivan lay sprawled out before him. "Surely, as an    undefeated world champion, you should know this."

Ivan's dark eyes promised retribution even as he jackknifed up and onto his feet.

"Enjoy that, Kolya. It will be your last and only victory."

And then he grinned and slapped Nikolai on the back, throwing an arm    over his shoulders as they started toward the house and the two women    who walked to meet them.

Nikolai watched Alicia, that smile of hers brighter even than a    California summer and her lovely voice on the wind, that kick of    laughter and cleverness audible even when he couldn't hear the words.

"You owe him an apology," she'd told him. It had been January, and    they'd been tucked up in that frilly pink bedroom of hers that he found    equal parts absurd and endearing. Though he did enjoy her four-poster    bed. "He's your brother. Miranda is afraid of you, and she still  risked   telling you how hurt he was."

He'd taken her advice, stilted and uncertain.

And now, Nikolai thought as he drew close to her with his brother at his    side, he was learning how to build things, not destroy them. He was    learning how to trust.

The baby in Miranda's arm wailed again, and both women immediately made a    cooing sort of sound that Nikolai had never heard Alicia make before    his plane had landed in Los Angeles. Beside him, Ivan shook his head.    And then reached over to pluck the baby from his wife's arms.

"Naturally, Ivan has the magic touch," Miranda said to Alicia with a roll of her eyes, as the crying miraculously stopped.

"How annoying," Alicia replied, her lips twitching.

Nikolai stared down at the tiny pink thing that looked even smaller and more delicate in Ivan's big grip.

"Another generation of Korovins," he said. He caught Miranda looking at    him as he spoke, and thought her smile was slightly warmer than the   last  time. Progress. He returned his attention to Ivan and the baby. "I    don't think you thought this through, brother."