Page 40 of Miki

Closing my eyes, I focused on the image of the wolf in my head. Around its neck was a collar with a tag that depicted an eight-point star with the letter R inside it. The star resembled the one used by the Russian Mafia.

Could Mr Sexy Lips be connected to the Bratva?

Chewing on my bottom lip, I pondered that.

There was no Bratva operating in Glasgow, or Scotland, as far as I knew, but we had them here in the UK. So, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. The Russian accent and my view that his criminality was hidden behind the businessman’s façade certainly aligned with that theory.

As I waited to feel guilt over the fact that I might not just have slept with a thief, I might have slept with a Mafia man. I was shocked when it didn’t come.

Shit!

My black and white world had truly become skewed if that idea didn’t bother me. A few weeks ago, I was sure it would have horrified me. Of course, a few weeks ago, I viewed the world in a way I now knew was completely naïve.

Taking a deep breath, I came to terms with the idea.

What was done was done. I couldn’t change it and, if truth be known, I didn’t want to. The guy had rocked my world and whether or not he was Bratva, nothing would change that. And nothing would stop this obsessive attraction I had for him, either. We had chemistry, and that was that.

God, those kisses! That sex!

My pussy throbbed as my mind went down that rabbit hole again. I clamped my lips tightly down on the giggle that threatened as images flashed in my brain like a private porn show.

God, I wished my friend Lisa was around so I could tell her all about Mr Sexy Lips.

As my best friend, she’d love to hear all about my exploits with the hot Russian. We’d met on our first day at university before I joined the Police. She’d been studying journalism, and I’d studied English. We’d hit it off immediately and had remained besties ever since.

Unfortunately, she was currently travelling abroad with her boyfriend, Danny. She was a successful travel vlogger, and he was a photographer. They made a great team, and I expected to hear news of an engagement soon. I’d helped Danny pick out a ring for her before they left last month for their new adventure, but I knew he was waiting to find the right moment to propose.

The pair had been in a relationship since our university days, too. Lisa and Danny were made for each other. Personally, I envied them because I hadn’t been so lucky in love. Oh, I attracted enough men, but just never the rights ones. After a string of unsatisfying relationships, I’d become jaded with dating and until my sexy Russian, I had been celibate for some time.

Lisa was always telling me I was a born-again virgin, so she would be really pleased to hear my dry spell was finally over. She’d love to hear all the gory details.

Although, to be honest, even if she had been here to gossip with, I wouldn’t have been able to tell her any of this because she’d likely want to help with my investigation and put herself in danger. There was no way I’d ever allow that, so it was just as well she was far away from all of this.

That didn’t stop me from missing her like crazy, though.

To compensate, I pulled up her vlog. Her beaming face filled the screen, and I laughed and smiled as I replayed her latest videos.

She showed off a henna design a Malaysian woman had just painted on her hand and that’s when I had my light bulb moment.

I gasped, excited.

Flicking through Lisa’s old vlogs, I grinned when I found what I was looking for.

Yes!

This vlog was from when she attended the opening of a new London club called Glitz. I remembered the vlog because the club looked amazing. It was owned by a Russian family called Rominov.

The image of the wolf’s collar sprung to mind. R for Rominov?

Checking her linked blog, I discovered the parents were dead, and the business was run by the siblings and a cousin. They were said to be quite private and shied away from media coverage, but there was a rare photograph of the family in front of another of their businesses with their names underneath; Mikhail, Sashenka, Marko, Sonia, and Romivick.

As I looked at the face of Mikhail Rominov, butterflies erupted in my stomach. It was hard to tell the colour of his eyes from the picture, but he was tall and muscular, with a handsome face, dark hair, a beard, and very familiar.

Underneath, Lisa had added some other rare photographs that were obviously taken by paparazzi. One of them showed Mikhail on a yacht wearing only swim shorts, and his glorious chest was on display, and there on his upper left arm was the tattoo.

Mikhail Rominov was my mystery Russian, Mr Sexy Lips himself.

Gotcha babe!

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