Page 36 of Alexei (Belles & Mobsters 4)

“Let me think about it,” I finally answered. The comparison of my brother to Alexei was ridiculous. Yet, I couldn’t shake it off. Byron hid his pain behind high walls and an unapproachable demeanor. It made me wonder if Alexei did the same.

Or maybe he’s just a psychotic and apathetic criminal, I added wryly.

My brother at least behaved humanly. People loved Byron’s charisma and handsome looks. And he certainly wasn’t all tattooed up. Yes, it was a good disguise because he was no less lethal. Though I bet Alexei Nikolaev sent people running just by looking their way. And if the guy smiled, everybody would be shitting their pants. His brother’s smile was scary, I couldn’t even imagine Alexei’s smile.

Shoving the Nikolaev men out of my mind, I focused on my surroundings. We were almost at the restaurant, the Sazerac Bar. Supposedly they had a good lunch selection and Byron wanted to check it out. Even made a reservation all by himself, without the assistance of his secretary. The location of this restaurant was in the historical French Quarter, on the corner of St. Louis Street.

Once we arrived, he parked and we walked the block to the restaurant. The slow, melancholy sound of a lone trumpeter busking nearby carried on the air. Crowds of people meandered the streets, some laughing, some dancing, some already well on their way to a hangover. There was so much history in the city, yet most days it was overshadowed by tourists and chintzy ghost tours.

I pulled at my high ponytail, trying to calm the frizz that threatened, even though I had straightened it this morning. While Byron opted for one of his signature suits, I chose a short blue dress and white sandals. I wasn’t sure how he wasn’t dripping with sweat with the quickly rising temperatures and humidity. Humidity in New Orleans was a bitch, with a capital B.

Once we entered the restaurant, I congratulated myself for my choice in wardrobe. The restaurant was somewhere in between casual and formal. My eyes traveled over the large room and found myself relaxing. I liked the place. The ambiance of the restaurant reflected the livelihood of old New Orleans. The walls were painted in deep colors, decorated with old photographs. The low sounds of the trumpeter carried through the oversized, open windows. A large crystal chandelier dominated the room and the middle of the floor was left open.

A hostess greeted us with a ready smile, her eyes traveling over Byron. By now, I was used to it. He attracted female attention everywhere we went. He was tall, muscular, and good looking. It would seem that was enough when it came to him. And the fact his whole persona screamed wealth didn’t hurt his chances either.

Ignoring her flirtatious smiles, I continued to survey the restaurant. The instant I spotted a familiar figure, I froze.

What. The. Fuck?

Suddenly, it felt like New Orleans was too small. Especially if I kept running into the Nikolaev men. It was like fucking déjà vu. Vasili was in his signature suit again, and Sasha in something resembling a suit but without the tie. Damn! Despite his shark smile, he was hot. Even I had to admit that.

Then I mentally prepared myself for the third brother.

I hesitantly shifted my gaze to Alexei. I didn’t like to look at him. Just a glance his way and I felt something cold and hot creep up my spine at the same time. Like damn icy hot. It couldn’t be his tattoos that bothered me. His brother had obnoxious tattoos as well, not the same design but still plenty of tatts.

My eyes traveled over Alexei. Again, he wore a spotless black t-shirt, military cargo pants. My eyes glanced at his feet and sure enough, his trademark combat boots. Like he expected to go into a battle at any moment. I was beginning to believe it was his signature outfit.

I’d laugh if he didn’t make me so damn uncomfortable. Yet, I couldn’t resist locking eyes with him. Call it a morbid curiosity. As if he could read me like an open book, his gaze flickered with something akin to dry amusement. Or maybe I was misreading him completely. It could be a threat, for all I knew.

Our eyes locked and if a bomb exploded next to me, I feared I wouldn’t be able to look away. It was as if he kept me captive. It felt like drowning in the coldest ocean, yet I wasn't cold. Probably some reverse psychology shit, though the man barely spoke two words to me.

A memory flickered in the back of my mind, nudging me to remember. It was right there, and I furrowed my eyebrows, focusing on it. It was just…

I froze as booming laughter had me snapping my eyes at the rest of the group Alexei sat with. Damn it! Just like that, the memory escaped me. It vanished into thin air. Maybe it wasn’t even a memory.

Alexei never looked away from me, unmoved by anyone around us. He literally had to take all the oxygen in the room because I could hardly breathe. Suddenly, I wished for a glass of hard liquor. And I hadn’t touched anything but wine or beer since my high school graduation trip in Miami.

God, this man was too apathetic. Too dark. Too deadly. And my boss wanted me to work with him and his brother.

Jesus Christ!

I’d probably end up dead. My brothers would be pissed.

Forcing my gaze to shift to the large group seated at his table, I studied the men, women, and children, laughing and eating. It was a casual, family like atmosphere. The booth was extended by two tables to accommodate them all. Every single one of the men seated at that table was drop dead gorgeous. Maybe it was good that Willow didn’t come. She’d drool all over them and probably land herself on one of their laps.

The men sat on the extended part of the table, while women and children were tucked into the booth. Almost as if they were protected, which in itself was ridiculous since someone could get to them through the large windows that were cracked open.

“This way,” the hostess pointed, and both my brother and I followed. Byron right behind me, I purposely kept my eyes away fromthetable. I hadn’t exactly admitted to my brother that I had been in the field since moving to New Orleans. He’d blow a gasket.

Overprotective brothers were a major pain in my ass.

I moved down the path following the hostess. When I turned around to ask my brother a question, he wasn’t behind me. My eyes sought him out and I found him standing by the table where the Nikolaev men.

“For Pete’s sake,” I muttered under my breath.

He was exactly where I didn’t want him to be.

ChapterTen

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