Russian Mobster’s Blackmailed Bride by Bella Rose Read Free Book Online Page A

different.
    Shaking off the strangeness, he gently settled her in the bed. He rolled to the edge and sat up. His pants were half on and half off. His shirt was hanging open. And the only thing he could think of was how much he wanted to strip naked and climb back into the bed.
    But that would have been a bad idea. Now was not the time in his life when he needed the complications of a real relationship. Rubbing his face, he buttoned and zipped his pants. Leaving the room was hard to do. He turned off the light, closed the door, and congratulated himself on his incredible willpower.
    Yes. He was in big trouble.

Chapter Seven
    Trisha rolled over in bed and blinked away the sleep. She’d had a wonderful dream. Anatoly had been there. He’d been kissing her, and maybe touching her, and she’d had more orgasms with him in ten minutes than she’d ever had with anyone else.
    Stretching, Trisha realized that she was naked. Her eyes snapped open and she sat up. Clutching the sheet to her breasts, she gasped as the memory of last night came flooding back in one fell swoop.
    This was just like some lame movie on the women’s network. Trisha put her face in her hands and groaned. What was she thinking? Had she completely lost her senses?
    “Okay.” She puffed out a quick, decisive breath. “It was one time. Not a big deal. It’s not like I’m going to do it again. Right? This was supposed to be a fun vacation. It’s turned a little weird, but I’m not going to think about that either.”
    “And now that you’ve gotten that little pep talk out of the way,” Anatoly drawled from the doorway. “I think it’s time to get out of bed and eat some breakfast. Don’t you?”
    She nearly leaped out of her skin, to say nothing of the little shriek that slipped out. Her hair was a total rat’s nest, and she was sure she had makeup streaking her face. “Would you get out ?” She shooed him with her hands. “I need to at least pretend to make myself presentable. It’s already embarrassing enough to think you’ve seen me looking like hell.”
    “You don’t look like hell. You look adorable.”
    She groped for a pillow, coming up with some tassel-bedecked monstrosity of a throw pillow. She lobbed it at the door as hard as she could. “Either get out or the next thing I throw won’t be squishy!”
    He laughed. “I’m going. I’m going!”
    Anatoly disappeared, and Trisha flopped back on the bed. She covered her face with her hands and tried not to smile. She shouldn’t be smiling. She shouldn’t be happy. She should be kicking her own ass or something.
     
    ANATOLY TRIED AND failed to wipe the goofy grin off his face. He could actually feel the insanity of his expression and wondered what was wrong with him. Trisha was one woman. He had a business empire to run: hotels in thirteen cities and casinos all across Russia. He did not have time to behave like a love sick school boy.
    “Sir?” Yakov was looking positively confused. “Did someone die?”
    “Die?”
    “Usually you only look this happy when one of your rivals kicks the bucket.”
    Anatoly considered this. “You’re right. Although this morning nobody has died. At least not to my knowledge.”
    “Ah,” Yakov bobbed his head in an exaggerated gesture of understanding. “Did you have a nice evening?”
    “Yes. I did.”
    Yakov gave a curt nod. “Your breakfast is out on the terrace, and the morning communications are on your desk. If you require Sergei or I this morning, we will be in the kitchen.”
    “Thank you.”
    Watching Yakov take long strides down the hallway, Anatoly had to admit that he was rather fond of how his days were consistently ordered. He even whistled a little tune as he headed for the terrace. The weather was beautiful this morning. In fact, the only thing that could make his day more perfect was if he had someone else to share it with.
    Anatoly stopped walking and stood completely still. He was standing half in and half out of the