The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(82)

Novakoff tipped his head to me. “Very well. An alternative. I’ll give him a position cleaning toilets in one of my clubs. Hard work. Very… messy. He can work off his debt. It will take a long time, but for you, I am willing to be generous. After this, we let him go.”

Bobby made a strangled noise in his throat.

It was hard not to laugh at the thought of Bobby cleaning toilets. No inheritance. His trust fund drained. Broke and forced to work for a living? That was a fate worse than death to a guy like Bobby.

“I accept,” I said.

Novakoff gestured toward Bobby. “Take him and put him to work.”

“They aren’t going to kill him anyway, are they?” I whispered to Jude as Bobby tried to negotiate—his voice increasingly whiney—with the two men leading him away.

“No. He’s a man of his word.”

“All right, Ellis, I trust there is no need for more unpleasantness between us?” Novakoff asked.

Jude shook his head. “We’re good.”

“Bol’shoe spasibo,” Novakoff said, angling his head down.

Jude answered with a nod.

Novakoff barked a command in Russian and his men moved aside, giving us a way out.

“Ellis,” Novakoff said with another nod. “Until we meet again.”

“With respect, Novakoff, let’s hope we don’t,” Jude said.

“Indeed.”

Jude tightened his grip on my hand and led us to the exit.





35





Cameron





The early morning air was warm and the water sparkled in the sun. The lemon trees Bert had planted around the property filled the air with the light scent of fresh citrus. I stretched out my legs on the deck chair and adjusted my sunglasses. I still wore my silk nightie—peach with subtle gold accents—and I just might not bother getting dressed today.

After all, I’d survived being kidnapped by the mob. That called for a day in pajamas.

Jude came out onto the balcony with two mugs of coffee. He hadn’t dressed, either. His dark blue boxer briefs displayed his tempting bulge and hugged his thighs. His muscular upper body was on full display. Wide shoulders. Broad chest. Solid abs. Thick, tattooed arms.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked, his mouth turning up in a grin.

“How could I not? Look at you. You’re like a tattooed Greek god.”

Chuckling softly, he put our coffees down and stretched out in the other chair. “You’re really taking the day off, aren’t you?”

“I think it’s warranted.”

“Of course it is. I thought I was going to have to make you stay home. I was prepared to use force if necessary.”

My lips turned up in a smile and I peeked at him over the top of my sunglasses. “Maybe I should resist.”

“Maybe you should come here.”

He scooted over on his chair. I got up, set my sunglasses aside, and tucked myself against him. With my head on his chest, I draped my leg over his. Snuggled in as he wrapped his arm around me.

“That’s better.” He gently picked up my arm to inspect the rope burns on my wrist. My skin was raw and slightly bruised on both my wrists and above my ankles. “How does this feel today?”

“It looks worse than it feels. It’ll heal.”

He planted soft kisses on the inside of my wrist. “I’m sorry I let this happen.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, it’s Bobby Spencer’s fault.”

“I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that it was him. Is Novakoff really going to make him clean toilets?”

“That’s exactly what he’s going to do. Novakoff doesn’t fuck around.”

I slid my fingers through his chest hair. “Can you tell me what that was about?”

“Which part?”

“The part where the head of the Russian mafia let us go. Was it just me, or was he afraid of you?”

“Maybe a little afraid. He respects me at least.” He paused for a moment, tracing slow circles on my arm. “Not long after I moved to Miami, I helped a client with a situation that… let’s just say it put me at odds with Novakoff. I did a lot of damage to his organization. But in the process, I also saved his daughter’s life. In the end, we came to an agreement. A peace accord, you might say. He stays out of my business and I stay out of his.”

“So when his men kidnapped me…”

“It violated our agreement.” He took a deep breath. “The last thing I want is to be at odds with the Russians. Or anyone. Believe it or not, I’m a man of peace. But if I have to, I will go to war.”

“Thank you again.” I snuggled closer to him and his arm tightened around me.

He kissed my head. “I would have torn that entire fucking building to the ground if that’s what it took.”

“You know,” I said, picking myself up to look him in the eyes, “now that it’s over, you can finally retire.”

The corner of his mouth hooked. “I was thinking I might give up on that whole retirement idea.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I actually hate golf.”

“Does that mean you want to keep the job?”