Page 27 of Savage Boss

Vlad kept his hand on the door, refusing to allow her to open it for a few seconds. He wanted her to see, to let it sink in how powerless she really was if and when he decided to exert himself over her.

Finally, he stepped away, allowing her to leave. She flung the door open, letting it slam into the wall. This time a picture did fall off the wall. She flipped Vlad her middle finger as she left. He grinned at her retreating back.

Through the best and the worst, the whirlwind that was Jane, he never wanted her to stop being herself. Now that he was over his anger, he couldn’t even contemplate the possibility of breaking his uniquely fierce wife. He had to find another way to make her listen to him when it came to her safety.

Chapter Fourteen

Vlad poured himself a glass of vodka, adding a few cubes of ice from the mini fridge hidden beneath his bar. He stepped out of the French doors and onto the terrace outside his office. His office faced his perfectly manicured lawn. The sun was low behind the row of trees along the perimeter that hid the security fence. The sky was lit up in a beautiful display of red, orange and purple reflecting off the wispy clouds.

Vlad reached back through the door, opened his cigar box, and chose one of his King of Denmark cigars, given to him by a business associate who appreciated luxury cigars. He cut the end off and put the cigar to his lips, lighting it while still holding his vodka. Two vices he didn’t often indulge in, but if ever there was an evening to seek the solace of a vice, it was this one.

Despite their blowup, or perhaps because of it, Vlad felt more at peace. His wife and child were safe under his roof for this one night at least. Jane might be angry, but she loved him. Her temper would cool, and she would forgive him for being an overbearing asshole who used brute strength to emphasize his point.

Vlad flicked his ashes into the bushes, a habit his head gardener deplored and shook his head over whenever he noticed Vlad smoking on the terrace. After the first time, a standing ashtray had mysteriously shown up.

The control freak in Vlad made it impossible to use the ashtray, though it was tasteful and discreet. Perhaps one day he would mellow enough to be a decent guy and use it. For now, he would maintain his edge and piss off his staff. Just a little. Remind them who was the Boss.

Vlad ashed the cigar on the railing and tossed the butt into the bushes, then downed the vodka in one long gulp, enjoying every second of the smooth burn down his throat, into his stomach. He set the glass on the railing and went back inside.

He was ready to talk to his wife. He hoped she wasn’t armed.

He took the stairs two at a time up to the second floor and down the hallway, striding toward their bedroom. When he didn’t find her, he backtracked to the baby’s room. It took him a moment to see her, but finally he did. She was bathed in the shadows of the dying sun, sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back against the wall, their child cradled in her arms suckling at her breast. Her head was tilted forward, her hair obscuring her face. But he didn't need to see her face to know how she was feeling. Tears dripped from her chin onto Joseph's blanket.

Vlad approached slowly, giving her time to realize he was there. She didn't look up, but her shoulders stiffened indicating she was aware of his presence. She tried to use her sleeve to wipe away the tears.

Vlad turned on the lamp, which was decorated in tiny giraffes. The light made Jane’s ebony hair look like a silk cap. The curve of her cheek shone from the tears.

“I sent the nanny home,” she whispered.

Vlad turned his back to the wall and slid down until he was sitting next to Jane on the floor. He slung his arms over his upraised knees and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and absorbing the scent of his son’s room. Baby powder, warm baby and the delicate flowery scent wafting from the shampoo Jane used in her hair. A few years ago, he would’ve thought the idea of this moment hysterical. Sitting on the floor in a room decorated in giraffes, about to beg the forgiveness of his own wife. He was a long way from his Russian roots.

“Da, that is fine,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

Jane had been deeply offended when Vlad insisted they hire a nanny directly after Joseph’s birth. She fired three of them before Vlad managed to convince the third to stay, despite Jane having fired her. The woman was perfect for both Joseph and Vlad. She looked like that flying Disney nanny but had the stubborn efficiency of Vlad’s old Russian babushka. Jane was gradually coming around to accepting the woman, but still tended to send her home early when she wanted Joseph to herself.

Vlad took the initiative. “Our marriage has become a cold war, malysh.”

She didn’t speak for a few seconds, then said quietly, her voice strained from crying, “No, it’s become all-out war.”

Vlad nodded his agreement. “Why do we do it?”

She thought about the question. He was preparing himself for a litany of reasons why he was wrong about everything, especially his disregard of her basic right to freedom, but she surprised him by saying, “I don’t remember anymore.”

He reached for her slowly and ran his hand over her hair. She was so much smaller than him that he could easily cup his hand over the top of her head. He brushed her hair aside, tucking it behind her ear. He touched his knuckle to her cheek, gathering her tears.

“Perhaps we should call a truce,” he suggested.

“How?” her voice was choked. “There’s so much we disagree about. I know I need to do a better job of controlling my temper, but I just get so angry when you try to dictate to me.”

“Da, I understand.” If their positions were reversed, Vlad would fight with everything he had to ensure his freedoms were preserved. They’d both come from oppressive backgrounds and both had worked hard to achieve their individual successes. “I am not the best at keeping my temper either, where you are concerned.”

Vlad knew that he would need to give Jane something if he expected her to even attempt to bow to what she saw as his unreasonable demands regarding her safety.

“I will stop attempting to block you from doing your job, but you must keep me better informed. You must tell me yourself of the cases you are working on and if you feel the need to surveil or apprehend anyone, you will always inform me first and you will bring backup. No exceptions.” It was difficult for Vlad to give her permission to do the more dangerous aspects of her job, but he knew she was a good detective. And the more he was willing to give her, the more open she might become with him.

She seemed to think about it before speaking. “Okay, if you want me to inform you of my work activities, then you need to get rid of my tail. The goons you have on me make stealth extremely difficult. They make too much noise and get in my way.”

“You’re lying,” he said promptly. “And no. The team stays.”

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