poised for the attack.
“You can’t frighten me, Vitaly Loganov. And it’s about time you told me what is really going on here instead of bullying me into a decline.” She swung out an arm to gesture at the house. “Who was that woman if not Yana?”
He continued his sentry, face working and his lips a thin line. “None of your business. Now will you behave, or do I have to make you?”
She jutted out her chin at this outrageous statement. “You can’t make me do anything.”
He took one step closer, his enormous bulk towering over her. “Trust me. I can and I will. If Yury finds out we’re not really engaged, he will kill us both. And if he finds out what happened in the forest yesterday…”
She threw up her hands. “What happened in the forest yesterday? Are you going to tell me or do I have to drag it out of you?”
It appeared she had gone too far, for suddenly he was upon her, gripping her arm tightly and hurling her across the shed until she was flung down on top of a small cot covered with old gardening clothes. Then, before she could recover, he had pinned her down with his hulking frame, taking her wrists in one hand while he clasped the other over her mouth. “Shut up,” he hissed, and gestured with his head. She followed his eyes, and then she heard it. Right outside the window a man was whistling a tune.
“Yury,” whispered Vitaly, and released her mouth to press a finger to his own lips. “Shhhh.”
To her horror, she realized the brutal mobster was coming their way.
CHAPTER 13
As Vitaly pressed down on Joanna, he could feel her body stiffen with fear. There were so many things he hadn’t told her, and so many he knew he should, and yet it was easier to keep his tongue and allow her to live in total oblivion. It was easier that way—easier for him and definitely easier for her.
For one thing, she didn’t have to become privy to the kind of things he had done for Yury. The hurt he’d caused. He’d been brutal at times, and had always told himself violence was merely a means to an end, an inevitable part of doing business. But now that he felt her so close to him, her body molding to his, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her soft bosom pressed against his hard chest, he realized there were other things in life that were more important than to be a loyal lieutenant to a crazy mobster.
For that Yury had a streak of insanity running through his system, of that he was certain. He’d seen him act crazy too many times, and lately it had become worse. The problem with Yury was that there was no stabilizing factor in his life. He’d always refused to take a woman as his bride, claiming the only woman he’d ever loved was his mother, and since she was reluctant to return from the grave, that was it for Yury. And it seemed the man expected his underlings to toe the same line. And that’s what Vitaly had done, until he met Joanna.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he whispered in an attempt to ward off her rising panic. Her eyes were wide and her face had lost its color. “The girl you saw yesterday? She’s Tatyana’s twin. She and Yana are Yury’s daughters.”
“Tatyana doesn’t know what happened to her sister?”
“No, she doesn’t, and neither does Yury. And I would like to keep it that way.”
“But how can you? Won’t Yana tell them what happened?”
“No, she won’t, for she hates Yury almost as much as he hates her.”
“And Tatyana? She hates her too?”
“No. But she’s a blabbermouth. She’ll never be able to keep quiet.”
He listened intently for a moment. The danger had passed, he knew. Around this time, Yury always took a stroll in the garden. He liked to roam the grounds before breakfast, overseeing his domain, then return to the house to start his business for the day.
He rolled off Joanna, gratified to see some color return to her cheeks.
“I still don’t understand,” she said. “Why isn’t Yury supposed to know what
“You can’t frighten me, Vitaly Loganov. And it’s about time you told me what is really going on here instead of bullying me into a decline.” She swung out an arm to gesture at the house. “Who was that woman if not Yana?”
He continued his sentry, face working and his lips a thin line. “None of your business. Now will you behave, or do I have to make you?”
She jutted out her chin at this outrageous statement. “You can’t make me do anything.”
He took one step closer, his enormous bulk towering over her. “Trust me. I can and I will. If Yury finds out we’re not really engaged, he will kill us both. And if he finds out what happened in the forest yesterday…”
She threw up her hands. “What happened in the forest yesterday? Are you going to tell me or do I have to drag it out of you?”
It appeared she had gone too far, for suddenly he was upon her, gripping her arm tightly and hurling her across the shed until she was flung down on top of a small cot covered with old gardening clothes. Then, before she could recover, he had pinned her down with his hulking frame, taking her wrists in one hand while he clasped the other over her mouth. “Shut up,” he hissed, and gestured with his head. She followed his eyes, and then she heard it. Right outside the window a man was whistling a tune.
“Yury,” whispered Vitaly, and released her mouth to press a finger to his own lips. “Shhhh.”
To her horror, she realized the brutal mobster was coming their way.
CHAPTER 13
As Vitaly pressed down on Joanna, he could feel her body stiffen with fear. There were so many things he hadn’t told her, and so many he knew he should, and yet it was easier to keep his tongue and allow her to live in total oblivion. It was easier that way—easier for him and definitely easier for her.
For one thing, she didn’t have to become privy to the kind of things he had done for Yury. The hurt he’d caused. He’d been brutal at times, and had always told himself violence was merely a means to an end, an inevitable part of doing business. But now that he felt her so close to him, her body molding to his, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her soft bosom pressed against his hard chest, he realized there were other things in life that were more important than to be a loyal lieutenant to a crazy mobster.
For that Yury had a streak of insanity running through his system, of that he was certain. He’d seen him act crazy too many times, and lately it had become worse. The problem with Yury was that there was no stabilizing factor in his life. He’d always refused to take a woman as his bride, claiming the only woman he’d ever loved was his mother, and since she was reluctant to return from the grave, that was it for Yury. And it seemed the man expected his underlings to toe the same line. And that’s what Vitaly had done, until he met Joanna.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he whispered in an attempt to ward off her rising panic. Her eyes were wide and her face had lost its color. “The girl you saw yesterday? She’s Tatyana’s twin. She and Yana are Yury’s daughters.”
“Tatyana doesn’t know what happened to her sister?”
“No, she doesn’t, and neither does Yury. And I would like to keep it that way.”
“But how can you? Won’t Yana tell them what happened?”
“No, she won’t, for she hates Yury almost as much as he hates her.”
“And Tatyana? She hates her too?”
“No. But she’s a blabbermouth. She’ll never be able to keep quiet.”
He listened intently for a moment. The danger had passed, he knew. Around this time, Yury always took a stroll in the garden. He liked to roam the grounds before breakfast, overseeing his domain, then return to the house to start his business for the day.
He rolled off Joanna, gratified to see some color return to her cheeks.
“I still don’t understand,” she said. “Why isn’t Yury supposed to know what
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