Page 1 of Bedazzled
Prologue
In which Yuri and Tania’s plans for a romantic evening are shot to hell. Literally.
Yuri…
“So, how big are we talking, babe?”
Tania’s voice was at her most sultry, and as always, she turned every sentence into an innuendo. This was a quality about her that I deeply appreciated because those innuendos were traditionally directed at my cock.
“We are talking huge, darling,” I assured her, smoothing my tie.
Patrick, the Morozov Bratva’sObshchakwas sitting across from me in the town car and he rolled his eyes.
“Well, damn! I can hear the BDE loud and clear,” she laughed, “hurry up with your voodoo business and bring that bedazzled dick to me.”
“I will see you soon,” I promised. Tania might be the most unrestrained woman I have ever met, but she had created a code to refer to my family business - the Bratva’s business - and had not slipped once.
Patrick shook his head. “I don’t know how you handle that one, brother. She’s out of control.”
“You have no idea,” I chuckled. Tapping the divider between the driver’s seat and ours, I reminded Ivan, “Do not forget to stop at Bud’s.”
“Sovietnik, you can have this flower arrangement delivered, you know,” Patrick persisted.
“True,” I agree, “but her appreciation is most enthusiastic when I arrive with a massive bouquet in hand. She calls it ‘putting in the work.’ We will finish this meeting with Hideo Tanaka as quickly as is polite and I am reserving my evening for Tania.”
“You’ve been seeing her for what, ten, eleven weeks?” Patrick’s head tilted curiously. We had known each other for ten years and he knew I rarely saw the same woman twice.
“We met at Maksim and Ella’s wedding,” I said.
“Wait, she’s the one you took up to the honeymoon suite at the Four Seasons?” He started laughing. “The men still talk about the noise complaints from the other guests on that floor.”
Shrugging, I checked my phone for any messages from my brother.
“Really,” he persisted, “we all expect that behavior from the boss, but you? You’re the classy one.”
“You’re treading dangerous ground,ginger,”I raised a brow warningly, but Patrick, our IrishObshchakwas not finished.
“Did you take a break? From all accounts, there was definitely a spark between you two.” He was desperately trying to keep a straight face and I cracked my neck irritably. Perhaps inspiring fear in our men would work better than inspiring respect.
“She was with me at the New Year’s Eve shootout.” My tone had cooled and his grin faded. “She told me afterward that she did not want to see me again,” I shrugged. “That is understandable. We reconnected during Ella’s brief separation from Maksim. She helped them reunite.”
“The Morozov men, settling down,” he rubbed his chin reflectively, “I’ll be erasing that from my list of things that will never happen.”
The town car pulled up to the florist’s; Patrick and two of the men stepped out first, checking the surroundings before he opened my door, nodding to me.
“Three of you?” I murmured as I passed him, “I almost think you care.”
Patrick looked stern and deadly inObshchakmode, but his right eye closed in the most subtle of winks.
Bud’s Floral always smelled like jasmine. “There you are, sir!” Mrs. Novikoff gently shoved the girl manning the cash register aside. “There is no charge for Mr. Morozov,” she hissed.
The cashier - who could not have been older than fifteen or sixteen, looked up at me with wide blue eyes, then blushed and scurried into the back of the store.
“I’m sorry! She has a terrible crush on you,” Mrs. Novikoff said, “she is always checking the orders to see if you put one in.”
I chuckled politely, “It is not a problem. Do you have my flowers ready?”
Beaming, she nodded, bustling off to get the arrangement. “When you’re using the language of flowers, matching personality type to the right blooms can be really fun.” She put a beautifully wrapped bouquet of yellow and dark purple sunflowers in front of me.
