Falling for the Mob Soldier: Sokolov Brothers Book Two Read online

  By the end of the evening, when Elena laid down to sleep for the night in a lavish guest bedroom, her head was spinning. Poor Alexa really did adore Viktor. They were so cute together—perfect, even. Making things worse, no matter how careful she was, Elena was certain that, after she killed Viktor, Alexandra would know it had been her. There would be no salvaging the friendship that had blossomed over so many years. In order to fulfil her mission for her father, Elena would have to destroy the life of her closest friend.

  Roman’s questions about loyalty continued to circle in her mind until sleep claimed her.

  The next morning, she woke up groggy and headed downstairs to see if the kitchen offered soy mochas. To her surprise and delight, it did. Elena sipped on her drink and wandered around the mansion to see if she could find Viktor to subtly determine his daily schedule.

  After a few rounds of strolling the house, however, she’d seen no sign of Viktor. Instead, she found Alexandra swimming laps in an enormous private pool.

  When Alexandra noticed Elena approaching, she swam to the edge of the pool and smiled up at her.

  “Hey, Elena! What are you up to? Would you like a swim?”

  “Not now,” Elena laughed, holding up her second latte of the morning. “I’m perfectly happy drinking this soy mocha—I can’t believe your kitchen staff has a full coffee bar. Why would you ever want to meet me in that café when this stuff is sooooo good?” Elena ended the question with a grin and a sip of her almost-gone drink.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it—Viktor drinks plain black coffee, and it’s nice to have someone else to appreciate a good mocha.” Alexandra pulled herself out of the pool and approached a rack of a warming towels near several plastic lounge chairs. She wrapped herself in white fluffy cotton and sighed contentedly as she turned back to her friend.

  Elena took a seat nearby and sat with one ankle crossed over her knee. She took another long sip before speaking.

  “Where is Viktor, anyway?” she asked lightly.

  “I don’t really know, to be honest. He goes out a lot—lots of meetings, businesses to run, that kind of stuff. Unless we schedule a day together, I usually just get to see him right before bed. Why? Did you need something?”

  “Oh, no, I was just wondering.” Now Elena had some ideas about when and how to strike. “I do wish you would have told me about the pool, though—I have this totally adorable gold bikini, and I didn’t even think to bring it!”

  “That’s okay, El, you can always borrow one of mine. Want me to finish towelling off and we can go through my closet together?”

  Alexandra was the biggest sweetheart, Elena thought. Her eyes wandered around the pool room as she considered what she would do next when she saw the large clock on the far wall. She almost choked on her coffee.

  “Hot. Still hot,” Elena explained, trying to downplay her reaction. Had she really gotten up so late and spent that much time walking around the mansion? She had a meeting with her father’s contact in less than half an hour.

  “I, uh… I’m kind of bummed out today, gold bikini aside,” she commented. “All the stress of yesterday, you know? I just wanted to say hello, but I’ll take a rain check on the pool. I think I’m going to go for a walk. Get the blood pumping, sort out some thoughts.” Elena rose and stretched, still doing her best to remain casual.

  “Do you need to talk, El? I’m here for you if you need anything,” Alexandra offered with a soft, sweet smile. It almost broke Elena’s heart how considerate her friend was.

  The friend she was going to betray.

  “Nah, that’s okay,” she said quietly. “I just read some pretty deep stuff from Nietzsche and need to think it over. He gets pretty depressing sometimes with the nihilism, and I just have to walk it off.” Elena cocked her head at Alexandra. “That’s sweet, though, really. You’re sweet. If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay. If you’re sure, I’m just going to keep swimming then.” Alexandra flashed her a smile.

  “I’m sure. Thank you, though, Alexa, you’re too sweet, really.”

  Leaving her friend behind, Elena rushed off down the hall. Mikhail, her father’s contact here in Boston, would be waiting down the street, away from the prying eyes of Sokolov security cameras. He was supposed to pick her up for briefing and debriefing—a way for her father to keep her both safe and informed, Elena assumed.

  She ducked by the kitchen to return her coffee cup. When she turned to make her way to the front door, however, she ran directly into Roman. They collided, and Elena was grateful she no longer held a drink or else it would have been decorating the front of Roman’s immaculate suit.

  His hands wrapped around her upper arms to steady her, and she suddenly realized that it seemed he was having to do that a lot. Funny, she was usually sturdier on her feet. She looked up at him then, and it took her a second to register what had just happened, she was so quickly sucked into his eyes all over again.

  “Oh, geez, you scared me,” Elena muttered. Roman gave her a weak smirk, but said nothing. His hands lingered on her arms, his touch gentle but firm.

  Their eyes met again. Elena was breathless when she gazed at him and he gazed back. Rather than his typical steadfast expression, she saw today that there was something akin to longing behind his gorgeous grey eyes.

  Roman leaned down as Elena leaned up. Both had the same intention, it seemed; their mouths met for a kiss. Elena’s eyes fluttered shut and she relished the sensation of his lips. Just as before, it was over quickly, though this time heat rose to her skin.

  “I have another errand to run,” Roman said in a low, smooth voice. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in joining me again?”

  Elena decided Mikhail could wait.

  7

  Roman

  Elena had been helpful again on their second errand, and Roman had enjoyed their conversation on the trip out. Plus, their two kisses had continued to replay in his head throughout the rest of the day since they’d returned, and then long into the night. After everyone had gone to bed, Roman sat up in his room with his laptop, skimming the mafia databases for information on Elena. Partly out of duty, but partly out of curiosity.

  His distrust of her continued to battle with his newfound enjoyment of her company. Maybe if he dug around in her files, he would find something to put his mind at ease. His gut continued to nag at him, suggesting that she was not truly a defector and that she was up to no good. But as his mind revisited their kisses over and over again, his heart couldn’t help being hopeful that perhaps she truly was innocent and trustworthy.

  Roman had seen what uncertainty had done to Viktor when Alexandra’s father had still been suspected of Boris Sokolov’s murder. He’d listened to his friend drunkenly spill his guts late one night, talking about how he loved Alexandra and couldn’t bear to think of her as the enemy, but at the same time needed to uphold his father’s legacy and bring Alexandra’s family to justice. In the end, Viktor had gotten lucky; both Alexandra and her family had been framed, allowing Viktor his own happily ever after.

  Would Roman be so lucky? It was ill-fated indeed that he was now facing a similar dilemma, although thankfully he was not married to Elena as Viktor had been married to Alexandra at the time of his suspicions. As a result, at least Roman had the opportunity to view the situation from a different angle.

  He leaned back against the headboard of his bed and adjusted his computer to rest propped up on his knees. A few clicks brought him to the private network which housed the database he’d decided to try next. He typed in ‘Elena Popov’ and pressed enter, then waited for the computer to calculate results.

  She was such an interesting woman, Roman thought. Gorgeous enough to be in Hollywood, with the sarcasm of a comedian and a mind for heavy books. He wanted to get to know her, and now it wasn’t solely to protect Viktor. He had found her likeable, helpful, and, despite her often catty approach, quite funny.

  Roman ran a finger across his lips and r
emembered their kiss upon leaving the plane. Had she kissed him, or had he kissed her? His memory was foggy on those details, but the softness of her mouth and the taste of her lip gloss would forever be burned into his brain. Then, earlier today, they had shared another kiss. There was a strange playfulness and fire behind Elena’s eyes that captivated him.

  Roman shook his head as though to shake away those thoughts. He needed to investigate Elena, to make sure he could dare to remember those kisses without further complicating things or even bringing shame upon himself. It was one thing to fall for a beautiful woman, but it was another entirely to fall for the daughter of the enemy.

  The search page brought up a profile for Elena. Roman skimmed through her birthday, previous addresses, previous occupations, and family relations. She had a sister, Maya, which Roman had never heard mention of before. Her father, Anatoly, was a gunrunner who fronted as a real estate investor, but of course he’d already known that. Bitterness surged through Roman at the mere mention of Anatoly, who had poisoned Viktor’s father. Roman’s eyes lingered over the information for Elena’s mother, however.

  Raisa Popov, Elena’s mom, was alive and in a nursing facility here in Boston. Roman’s eyebrows raised. Hadn’t Elena said her mother was dead? Why would she lie about such a thing?

  But Roman distinctly remembered her words during their engine emergency on the plane. She had cussed at him, he had asked if she kissed her mother with that mouth, and Elena had shouted that her mother was dead.

  Roman clicked on the name, Raisa Popov. The information had last been updated fairly recently, and even gave the address for Croft Estates, the assisted living facility where Raisa currently resided. Her status was listed as ‘living’ and there was even a photo of the woman— a pale, thin woman with heavily lidded eyes. Despite the age gap, he could even see the resemblance.

  There was no question that Elena’s mother was alive.

  Roman pursed his lips and stared at the screen. His thoughts engulfed him. Elena had never mentioned having a sister, but that was relatively easy to pass off; Maya had never come up in conversation. It was Raisa who troubled him.

  Elena had outright lied. It was a small lie, yes, but still a lie. Roman couldn’t allow his newfound feelings of affection for Elena to cloud his judgement. His goal, his mission, was to keep Viktor and the Sokolov mansion safe. And if she would lie about something which seemed so inconsequential, at least in relation to the Sokolovs… what else would she lie about?

  No matter how much Roman liked Elena, he had to remain true to both himself and Viktor. Something so small as Elena’s lie about her mother was not immediate proof of anything nefarious, and certainly not worth troubling Viktor with just yet, but Roman needed to do something with his newfound information. He tapped his fingers on the blanket next to him and shifted his weight in bed. Bringing up her lie in casual conversation would give her the opportunity to play it off. If he wanted any chance at all of confession, he would have to hit Elena with his discovery about her mother when she wasn’t expecting it.

  A glance at the lower right side of his laptop screen revealed it was almost two in the morning. Alexandra, Elena, and Viktor had all gone to bed around ten. With any luck, Elena would be long asleep right now. Bursting into her room and confronting her with her lie would be the best way to catch her off-guard, but was that too much?

  Roman considered his options as he scrolled through Elena’s page in the database again. She had an August birthday—a Leo in astrology, if he remembered correctly—and had lived in Boston for nearly her entire life. She had a background in ballet, which made sense because of her long, elegant legs, and she was a voracious reader according to her library catalog. She’d been at the top of her class in college but never graduated. That was strange, too, but people dropped out all the time. After her time at a university, he found a smattering of detail offering her work at various jobs; she’d been a waitress, a secretary, and even done a short stint as a model.

  He slammed his laptop shut. The more he read, the less certain he felt and the harder it was to focus. There wasn’t anything in Elena’s file which stood out as suspicious except for her mother. If Roman wanted any chance of getting straight answers, and any chance of getting to sleep that night, he was going to have to confront her right now.

  Sighing, Roman set his computer aside and rolled out of bed. He pulled on a plain navy-blue pajama set, stretched, and padded down the hall to Elena’s guest bedroom. A combination of trepidation, remorse, and anger set his teeth on edge. It had been a long time since Roman had been in touch with his emotions, and the fact that Elena brought so many feelings to the surface made dealing with the situation even harder.

  Outside her bedroom door, he took a deep breath in, and regained his aloof façade. The door swung open and Roman burst inside, flicking on the light and closing the door harshly behind him.

  “Get up!” he growled at her.

  8

  Elena

  Elena mumbled in her sleep. She heard someone talking, but her mind hadn’t fully roused from slumber yet. Hair fanned across the pillow, a satin sleep mask over her eyes, she flopped over in bed, still only vaguely conscious.

  “Elena Popov, get up.”

  She’d heard the voice again. Sleep faded and reality slowly crept back in to take its place. She tugged the sleep mask up and blinked a few times. Why was it so bright? When she scanned the room, she saw that the light was on and Roman was standing at the foot of her bed. It must have been him speaking, she realized.

  “Hmm?” She stared at him with heavy eyelids. “Don’t tell me we have another errand to go on,” she mumbled. Even half-asleep, her sarcasm shone through as she blinked at Roman tiredly and then lay her head back on the pillow—she really was too tired to deal with him right now.

  “You lied to me,” Roman said with a rigid tone. He crossed his arms, posture stiff, and glared at her.

  Groaning, she pulled herself up to a seated position, blinked herself awake, and stared back at him. “One, no, I didn’t. And two, it’s late.” She had intended to snap at him, but her voice was still clogged with exhaustion and had come out flatly instead. Jet lag was a bitch. She glanced to the LED display of the alarm clock on the nightstand. “It’s late, Roman. Really late. Come back tomorrow after I’ve had my beauty sleep.”

  Leaving him to exit on his own, she dropped back down on her pillow. She pulled her sleep mask back on, then rolled onto her side. Maybe if she ignored him, he would just go away.

  “You said your mother was dead, but I just found out she’s alive and well in a nursing home. Why did you lie to me?” Roman demanded.

  What? Elena’s breath caught as she heard him take another step closer to the bed. What game was he playing? And how could he think that was something to joke about? She sighed and opened her mouth to tell him off a little less politely, and then suddenly she realized that he hadn’t sounded like he’d been playing with her at all. He’d sounded dead serious.

  But that couldn’t be right… Her mother was long dead, and she certainly knew that better than he could.

  Elena sat up again and tossed her sleep mask onto the pillow beside her. “Um, no, Roman, she’s not. And how dare you?” Her eyes narrowed. “My mom died when I was fourteen, and whatever sort of super-secret spy trick you’re trying to use on me, at freaking two a.m., it’s not cool. It’s not okay, either, to bring my mother into it.”

  Roman stared at her without backing down, and she glared back.

  “Why would you lie about something like that?” Roman asked slowly.

  “Are you kidding me right now, Roman? I’m not lying, for fuck’s sake!” She half-heartedly tossed a pillow at him and sat on the edge of the bed, her feet touching the floor.

  “Then why do I have a recent photo of her and an address for an assisted living facility in Boston, where she is a registered patient?”

  Elena felt like someone had tackled her and knocked the air out of her chest. �
��You… you have what?”

  She stared at him, wide-eyed, and then she began to tremble. Had she not just spent the past two days running errands with Roman and gotten to know him, and had she not seen first-hand that he was truly an honest, hardworking, loyal soul, she wouldn’t have believed him. But Roman had no reason to lie, and the baffled look on his face now told Elena everything she needed to know.

  “My mother… is alive?” she whispered. The pain of the realization gripped her heart in a vice and she felt tears on her cheeks before she even knew she was crying. A few dry swallows and a deep breath helped her pull herself together, but not by much, and her mind was still stumbling forward, ricocheting between thinking he had to be wrong, or that she really did, still, have her mother.

  “You didn’t know,” Roman said blankly. It was a statement rather than a question, and Elena saw a pained expression tighten on his handsome features. She didn’t bother to respond, focusing on reining in her tears as he continued, “She was admitted to Croft Estates about nine years ago, according to my research. That… that would have been about the time you said she died, right?”

  “Yes.” Elena looked up at him, bleary-eyed and dizzy with shock. “Your research… did you find out how she was admitted?”

  Roman’s mouth twitched and uncertainty played over his face. He moved to sit on the bed next to her, and offered a comforting hand. Elena took it without question and squeezed his fingers for reassurance. Only after her tears slowed did Roman speak.

  “Your father admitted her,” he said.

  The bottom fell out of Elena’s stomach, and the room spun anew. She began to shake now, violently, and the tears began again before she could even think to hold herself together.

  “My dad?” she asked in a hushed tone—it sounded more like the voice she’d had as a child than the confident one she was known for now.

  “Yes.” Roman tilted her chin up with a finger and looked into her eyes. Within those dark grey pools, she saw calm patience, shared pain, and the need to console her—it was a new distraction, and her eyes got lost in his. His mouth pursed, as though he couldn’t find the right words, and a long silence passed between them before he finally spoke again.