Page 50 of Her Silver Fox Mountain Men

I gasp. “You got me flowers?” Unlike the flowers I found at the cabin, these actually fill me with joy along with a sense of relief. Oliver and James come closer, both of them still smiling.

“We hoped you’d like them,” James says.

“You do like them, right?” Oliver asks, looking slightly worried.

I laugh lightly. “God, yes, they’re gorgeous. The colors are so pretty.”

“We may not be on the best terms with Shauna, but business is business, and the woman does know how to put together a pretty floral arrangement,” Roman replies with a shrug. “You seemed a bit down the other day, a bit worried, maybe a bit of both. Flowers don’t fix everything, but they can usually cause a smile. Like right now. I like it when you smile.”

“Mission accomplished,” Oliver says.

“You went by Shauna’s shop and ordered this?” I ask, putting two and two together. I knew she was messing with me. I’d throw these right in the bin if they weren’t a gift from my guys. They’re beautiful, and they’re mine. Nothing else matters, not even their origin. “This is so sweet.”

“I’m glad you like them,” Roman says.

I set the bouquet aside on the entryway table then throw my arms out, beckoning the three of them to embrace me, never wanting them to let go. “I love them,” I say, my throat tight with emotion. “Thank you so much.”

“We’ll do anything to see you smile like this,” James whispers and plants a soft kiss on my cheek.

Shauna lied on purpose just to rile me up. She’s bitter and angry that they’ve moved on. I’ve already got enough issues to deal with; there’s no room for her bullshit on top of it all.

I still need to figure out who sent those roses, but in the meantime, I’ll put this gorgeous bouquet in a vase and take it up to my room.

19

Roman

Ididn’t expect to come to Boulder twice in the same month, but Tori insisted that at least one of us be present for this client meeting. Oliver decided to join me, and as we sit around the conference table in our executive board room, we can see why Tori wanted us here.

Seated across the table from Oliver, Tori and me, is Kara Konstantinova.

The name first rang some bells when we received the prospective client brief from Boulder but seeing her in the flesh makes me better understand Tori’s persistence. Ms. Konstantinova isn’t just the daughter of a Bratva head who single-handedly united all the Chicago families under one alliance. I read enough about her on the drive over to know she’s a force to be reckoned with on her own. I needed to know who I was dealing with.

“Ms. Konstantinova, please forgive our minor delay,” Oliver says with a pleasant smile. “I’m sure Tori mentioned where we were driving in from.”

“Somewhere on the other side of the Rocky Mountains,” she replies. “It’s fine. Please, call me Kara. Only my service staff call me Ms. Konstantinova. Hopefully, so will the security detail that you will provide me with if we can agree on certain terms and conditions.”

I nod slowly, giving Tori a quick glance. I’m proud of her. For a combat vet, her comeback into civilian life has been nothing short of stellar. This year alone, Tori has brought us four new high-paying clients.

“By all means, Kara, tell us,” I say. “What can we do for you?”

“I’ve got a few meetings scheduled in and around Boulder over the next month or two, potential property acquisitions among other things,” she replies, and I take a moment to note every detail about her pristine appearance while she speaks. “I suppose you’re familiar with my father, Lev Konstantinov, and his reputation.”

“We are, yes.”

Kara is Russian, with prominent regional features—sharp cheekbones, platinum-blonde hair and icy blue eyes as cold as the Arctic Ocean. She wears a dark grey suit jacket over a pale blue silk shirt, diamond studs in her ears, and a thin, delicate sapphire and diamond choker around her neck. There’s something familiar about her, something I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s as if I’ve seen her before but I know I haven’t. I never forget a face.

“Then you know he has enemies,” Kara replies. “The kind of enemies who would jump at the chance to hurt his loved ones in order to get to him.”

“That’s the risk you take when you lead the Bratva, though, isn’t it?” Oliver asks, a smirk on his lips. “The Russian mob can be as merciless as the wilderness itself, but I know for a fact that the Colombians can be worse.”

“Not just the Colombians. Over the past few years, my father has had run-ins with the Italian mafia as well. These days, it seems as though we only have the Irish on our side.” She pauses to look at me. “You’ve got some Irish blood running through your veins, don’t you, Mr. McTierney?”

“Is that why you came to us?” I shoot back.

She raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Maybe. The familiarity of your name, the associations that my mind made in the process… it might’ve played a part, albeit a very small one.”

“I do hope our experience and success played a bigger part.”

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