The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(76)

By that time, Naomi had already skipped town, bearing his mark, and carrying off with half a million dollars of his own money.

Another lesson, Mikhail had told him, that women were a bane.

That didn’t mean Mishca hadn’t cared for her, he had. Just not enough to let her in.

“But you did say you could always find me, no matter where I went. That begs the question, why are you looking for me now?”

Mishca rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward as though to whisper a secret, but in reality, he wanted to see if he still had the same effect on her. Her actions in New York told him nothing, he already knew she enjoyed games, so her affection towards him could have been faked, but there were other signs she couldn’t manipulate.

“I wanted to see you.”

Her lips parted, though no sound escaped her lips. For a split second, the emotion was there in her eyes, that hunger, before it was replaced with humor.

“And what of your wife?”

So she had been checking up of him. That only made his plan easier.

“And when has that ever mattered to you?”

“Perhaps when you treated me so coldly when I came to visit you,” she said with faux sadness while looking at him pointedly, trying to read him as he did to her, but he was not nearly as easy.

“I would have done the same for you.”

She took a sip of her champagne. “I guess I should take it as a compliment that you flew all the way here for me, but are you only here to interrupt my dinner?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m interrupting, merely waiting for you to finish.”

“And if I had plans?”

He smirked. “You don’t.”

“Well, there’s no reason for us to waste any more time.”

When Naomi was sure she had the upper hand, she never pondered the possibility that she could be wrong. For reasons Mishca never knew, she had always underestimated him, perhaps because of the position she found him in when they met, but Mishca was no longer that guy.

He'd expected more of a fight from her, at least he thought she would be suspicious of his motives, but perhaps he had given her too much credit.

In the darkness of the cab, Naomi’s hand crept over the space separating them, her fingers brushing his pants leg before moving to boldly rub up his thigh. There was, however, so much Mishca was willing to do for this ruse, and having her grab his cock wasn’t part of it.

He grabbed her hand before she could go any further, keeping hold of it. Sadly, it wasn’t a very short drive back to her hotel, since she made it a point to give the driver obscure directions, more paranoid than he had thought.

Leading the way up to her room, Naomi hardly paid Mishca any attention as she went, her focus straight forward. If she would have glanced back, she would have noticed that Mishca was checking for any security cameras, or if anyone was paying attention to the pair of them.

Thankfully, there were none.

When they were finally in her room, with the door closed behind them, Mishca walked past her, going over to the windows to peer out, thinking of his actions, and what had brought him to this point.

He didn’t take lives needlessly, would rather maim than actually kill, but wanted to end Naomi. There was so much that could have gone wrong, and he might have explained this to her, but he knew in his heart that it wouldn’t change anything. She didn’t care, and would probably have done it from the beginning if she thought that would have helped her.

This wasn’t just about him, it never was.

Naomi came to him, slipping her arms around his neck, her eyes scrutinizing his face for any break in his composure. He had already sent the message to Marco, but he still had no idea how long it would take for the men to get here. If he didn’t want to blow it, he would have to play along.

Even if that meant breaking a vow to Lauren.

Mishca thought it would be easy—he had done things similar to this before Lauren came into his life—but as Naomi came towards him and he felt her mouth on him, it turned his stomach. He could only force himself for so long before he pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Don’t be shy, Mishca.”

There was no reason for him to be nice anymore, not when the door was slowly creaking open. While her back had still been turned, he’d left the door unlocked, knowing Marco wouldn’t be far behind him.

Hearing the movement, Naomi looked from them, back to Mishca, fear in her eyes. She backed away from him, but there was nowhere for her to go, not when she was surrounded on all sides.

“What the hell is this?”

“I wanted to help you,” Mishca said by way of explanation. “Jetmir would not have touched you so long as I gave the order, you knew this. It was why you came to me.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but Mishca grabbed her face, hauling her forward. Her eyes widened, but she was too shocked to try and fight her way free.

“You went to Brahim and sent him after Lauren. There was nowhere you could have run that I couldn’t find you. I warned you.”

He shoved her away from him, back into the arms of the men standing behind her. Withdrawing the envelope full of cash from his jacket, he handed it over to Marco, uncaring of the predatory smile that was spreading on his face. What he chose to do with Naomi was not his problem.

“Mishca,” she called when he was almost to the door.