Crossing the Line (12 page)

Katya carried Aleksei’s laptop up to the apartment while his arms were full of her shopping. He put the bags down inside the door, kicked off his shoes, removed his jacket and loosened his tie. She wondered if he did casual. Katya put her shoes next to his.

“Want a drink?” he asked.

She nodded. He poured two shots of vodka and offered her one. She exhaled and then emptied the glass, holding the liquid in her mouth for a moment before swallowing. She put the empty glass back on the table. Aleksei laughed and poured another. She did the same again.

“You better hang up your new clothes while you can still stand,” he said.

Once she had, she curled up on the couch. Getting drunk had been the plan but her eyes closed and she fell asleep.

Thunder woke her. Two hours had passed. Aleksei sat opposite, shirt sleeves rolled up, working on his laptop. She stood, wobbled and sat again. Drinking had been a bad idea.

“Okay?” he asked.

“The vodka must have gone to my legs.”

“Umm, sounds fun. Can I join it?”

“No.”

He sighed.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Working. Making money.”

“Who for?”

“Lots of people.”

“Do you know a man called Petrenko?” Her pulse spiked as she asked the question. Why not throw it in out of the blue? She’d never find the perfect time.

Aleksei stared at her. “Why?”

“He’s the guy my uncle owed money to. He gave Petrenko the four thousand he stole from me. I want it back. It wasn’t my uncle’s to give.” Her heart played leapfrog with her stomach. “Do you know him?”

“Yes. Forget the money. I’ll give you the four thousand.”

“I want my money, not yours. Where does he live?”

“Come here.”

Katya crossed to sit next to him.

He pressed several keys. “Hit enter.”

As she moved her finger from the keyboard he caught her hand. “You just made six thousand dollars. I’ll open up a bank account for you.”

She wanted to push about Petrenko, but too much too soon might cause small ripples to grow into waves big enough to drown her. Aleksei could lead her to him. “I don’t want your money.”

“What do you want?”

“My old violin. The one I sold so I could come here.”

“Ah Katya.” He stroked her fingers. “Who did you sell it to? Maybe I can get it back.”

She stared at him. “Your price is too high.”

A flicker of annoyance flashed across his face. “So distrustful.”

“Do you blame me?”

“I’ve been a perfect gentleman.”

“It wasn’t you who farted then?”

He laughed. “Park bought groceries. Want to cook something?”

She was glad to be busy. The fridge was full of fresh vegetables, fish and meat. She decided on stroganoff. Might as well rid herself of the memory of last time she cooked it. Aleksei remained glued to his computer and cell phone, but as he talked, she felt his gaze on her. While she cooked, she listened.

As Aleksei ended what he hoped would be the final call, another came through. One he couldn’t ignore.

“I’ve had your new little friend’s problem dealt with,” Viktor said.

“Dealt with?” Aleksei walked out of Katya’s hearing into a bedroom. “Did I ask you to do that?”

“Why would you tell me otherwise?”

Aleksei sagged. “No details. I’m about to eat.”

Viktor laughed. “Is she tasty?”

Fuck you.
He clenched his fist around the phone.

“Don’t tell me you still haven’t fucked her. Good grief, Aleksei. Something wrong with your dick?”

He changed the subject.
“There’s an interesting twist. Did you know Vasily Novikov?”

“The uncle? No.”

“Apparently he owed you four thousand dollars.”

“A lot of guys owe me money.”

“She claims her uncle stole money from her to pay you.”

“Does she? Hmm. What a small world.”

Just what I thought.

“Take her to Phoenix. Max Hastings will wet himself over a Russian violinist.”

Aleksei stiffened. “She can play the violin for him but she’s not playing with his cock. Anna can do that.”

Viktor laughed. “Jealous? Not Anna though. Max has some deal with redheads. I’ll send Bruno with Sylvie.”

“So I don’t need to go?”

“Yes you fucking do need to go. There’s people to see as well. Let Katya play for Hastings and don’t come back until you’ve fucked her out of your system.”

The moment that call ended, another began. Aleksei headed back to the kitchen and picked up a bottle of red wine. He caught the phone between his ear and shoulder and continued the conversation while he opened the bottle. There was a pleasant aroma coming from the stove and his stomach rumbled.

“It’s ready,” she said quietly.

Aleksei switched off his phone.

The first forkful was a surprise. The beef melted in his mouth, the sauce exquisitely seasoned. Even the rice was cooked to perfection.

“This is excellent.”

“As good as your wife makes?”

He hid his smile. “She’s a hopeless cook. I didn’t marry her for her culinary skills.”

“Why then?”

“For a green card.”

“You never loved her?”

“No. We did very little together and we do nothing now. I haven’t seen her for over a year.”

Katya sighed. “That’s sad.”

“Not really. She never loved me. A perfect match. She does her thing. I do mine.”

“I’m a thing?”

“No, you’re not a thing.” He reached across the table for her hand but she drew back
.
He made sure he didn’t show his annoyance.

“If you don’t love each other, why don’t you get a divorce?”

He leaned back in the chair. “So I can marry another gold digger?”

She laughed and surprised him.

“What’s funny?”

“You’re afraid.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Of what?”

“Women like Anna and Natasha.”

He smiled. Katya worried him far more than they did. She was a mystery. He liked and didn’t like mysteries.

“Was that French you were speaking earlier?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Where did you learn it?”

“School.”

“In Moscow?”

“No, I went to boarding school in England when I was fourteen.”

“Not a poor Russian boy, then.”

He twisted his wine glass by the stem. “Depends on how you look at it. I arrived on my own in the north of England with two suitcases. One full of cash to pay my fees and buy clothes, the other held a few personal possessions. I didn’t fit in. The other boys and the teachers thought I was strange, and I was. They knew my mother was dead, but my father never brought me to school at the beginning of term, nor collected me at the end. No member of my family attended a school event, not sports day when I excelled in fencing and shooting, nor prize day when I won books for excellent marks in physics and math. My father didn’t even come on the final day. I arrived on my own and left the same way. The school probably wondered if he existed.”

“That’s sad.”

“I didn’t dislike school. I wanted to learn and the sports facilities were good.”

“I used to forge my mother’s handwriting to get out of anything sporty.”

“You surprise me. I had you down as a certainty for the good conduct award.”

She shook her head. “That would be my sister, not me.” She stared at him. “Did you know only fifty percent of the population are able to smell potassium cyanide?”

He paused with his fork half way to his mouth. “Where did that come from?”

“My unwritten book of ‘Interesting Conversations to have at Dinner.’ The ability to smell cyanide is inherited. In case you’re wondering, cyanide smells like burnt almonds. Found in the seeds of apples, apricots, cherries, peaches and almonds.”

Aleksei carried on eating. “Thank you for sharing.”

“You’re welcome. Does the food taste so good now?”

He stifled a grin. “The cyanide gives it a pleasant tang. Any other revelations?”

“Russia was the first country in the world to abolish capital punishment.”

“I
did
know that. Though compared to imprisonment in Siberia, death might be preferable. Anything else?”

“Plutonium undergoes more phase transitions at ordinary pressures than any other element. As it’s heated it transforms through six different crystalline structures before it melts. Unalloyed plutonium melts at the relatively low temperature of six hundred and forty degrees centigrade and the resulting liquid is of a higher density than the solid from which it came.”

Fucking hell.
Aleksei looked at her and laughed. “I thought you were a musician.”

“I have a degree in chemistry and I’m full of useless information.”

“Not all useless.”

“Not if you can smell burnt almonds before you eat something, or if you were thinking of metalworking plutonium.”

He laughed again and poured more wine. “How did a musician end up studying chemistry?”

“My mother was friends with my chemistry teacher and they were determined I was going to be a brilliant chemist. My sister was good at everything, whereas I was mediocre in almost everything. The fact that I had a talent for music didn’t count. I worked hard and did well. As my reward, my father insisted I studied chemistry at Moscow State. He said I’d make no money playing the violin. My mother agreed. Neither of them were musicians so they didn’t understand. I ended up as a mediocre chemist.”

“You play beautifully.”

“To spite them,” she said. “When I was offered a job with Russia’s ministry for atomic energy my father made me turn it down and said I could go to the Conservatory.”

Aleksei roared with laughter. “Were you really offered a job with Minatom?”

“Oh yes, I made sure of it. Low grade but the one place my father wouldn’t want me to work.”

Aleksei leaned back. “I like you. You amuse me. I even like that you’re difficult.” He stared at her.
Might as well get it out in the open.
He really wanted to fuck her, he was sitting there with a hard on, but he wouldn’t force her. “Will you come to bed with me?”

Katya’s heart skipped a beat. She’d been waiting for this, her blathering had failed to distract him and her anxiety had led her to reveal things she’d have better kept to herself. He confused her, made her forget what she was supposed to be doing.

Aleksei smiled. “You’re beautiful, smart and talented. Funny and capable of killing a man. That shouldn’t turn me on but for some reason it does. You’ve no idea how sexy I find you.”

She hid her hands under the table so he couldn’t see them shaking. “If I said I didn’t want to sleep with you, you’d make me. You told me you won’t let anyone hurt me, but you don’t include yourself in that. You’re no different than any Russian man. You see women as objects, things to be used, and beaten if we don’t do what you want. You want us to cook for you, clean up after you and be a slut in bed.”

His eyes darkened. “I wish you hadn’t said that. Now I
really
want you.”

“And what I want doesn’t matter?”

“I won’t hurt you. I won’t force you into anything. I’d like you to want me too.”

“You’d like it? Well, I tell you what. I’ll take a knife into the bedroom and if I don’t like the way things are going, I’ll let you know.” Anxiety choked her.

Aleksei frowned. “Stop trying to pick a fight.”

He got up from the table and walked over to his music system. The sound of slow blues filled the apartment.

“You’re using your sense of humor as a means of protection. I won’t hurt you. I promise.” He pulled her to her feet. “Dance with me.”

She stiffened but Aleksei tugged her against him so her head rested on his shoulder.

“Give me a chance,” he whispered.

He slid his arms around her back, held her close and she felt the hardness of his cock against her belly. She thought she hadn’t wanted him to touch her, but because he held her so gently and felt so good, she began to relax into his embrace. When he bent his head and kissed her throat in a hyper-sensitive place, a little groan escaped.

How can I want him so much? I know what sort of man he is.

“Let me make love to you. Let me show you all men are not the same.”

He cupped her cheeks and pressed his lips against hers. Katya’s heart pounded but his kiss was soft, a feather touch of his tongue along the seam of her mouth, urging her lips to part. They did.

She heard and felt the hitch in his breath and that turned up her heat another notch. He let his hands drift down her sides, slid them up under her dress and sucked the air from her mouth. He’d forgotten she wore no underwear? His hands caressed her butt and held her against him as he nipped and nibbled her lips. Katya thought this had to be the sweetest kiss she’d ever had. The opposite of what she’d expected.