Page 59 of Whispered Surrender

He nods toward the door. “Let’s move, Chicago Mafia are still swarming and my job and my team’s is to get you from here to Moscow without incident,” Nate says, ushering me through the kitchen, into the three car garage and into the back of a black Lincoln. “Head to the private strip,” he says to the driver while sliding in beside me.

“Buckle up and don’t get any ideas,” Nate says as two other men climb into the car, one in the back with Nate and me and the other one up front by the driver. Clearly no escape with one of these baboons on either side of me. The garage door raises and we back out. The black car parked on the side of the road pulls out behind us as we make our way down the street. The driver navigates the residential area, a few turns left and then right before we reach a main thoroughfare, follow it for a mile or so and then hit the on-ramp to the highway. Another couple miles, a few turns and we come to a private airstrip and a sleek looking Gulfstream parked on the tarmac waiting for us to board.

* * *

The plane trip is uneventful,the entire time spent reading, watching satellite TV, and spoiling myself with a long, much needed nap. Customs is efficient and rigorous as it always is in Russia. I’ve been through the drill more times than I can count but always with trepidation and a little fear that someone will dig a little deeper. But no, the same questions, and same protocols are used by everyone, never a deviation if they value their jobs and the livelihood it provides to their families who depend on the income.

If I thought I was getting rid of Nate once we touched down, I was sorely mistaken. He hails a cab when we step outside and I turn with astonishment as he gives the driver my address using perfect Russian, just without an accent. Who the hell are these people? I reach for the handle and am about to get out of the car when he tuts his disapproval at me. “Wait a moment and I’ll assist you,” he says, walking around to open my door, and then taking my small suitcase out of the trunk, before leaning in to give the cabbie some cash. He walks with me up to my apartment and the doorman recognizes and greets me. “Welcome home,” the big burly uniformed doorman says to me.

“Great to be back,” I reply, heading to the elevator that will take me to my haven, far, far above.

“Thanks for bringing me home and for everything you guys did,” I say, extending my hand to Nate outside of the elevator.

He just laughs. “You’re more than welcome, wildcat. I’ll escort you up,” Nate says, his eyes looking on with amusement.

I huff, and turn just as the private elevator arrives. When we reach the door, he spins me to face him. “You’re officially home. Call your sister, let her know you’re safe. She’s been worried about you. We just had to make sure everything came together and that neither one of you were being followed. Nice to meet you, wildcat,” Nate says, walking away before I can ask him any questions about my sister. I stick my key in the lock of my penthouse apartment and have just barely kicked my shoes off and have every intention of taking a long bubble bath to soak the worries of the last few days away while I call my sister when there is a knock on the door.

I open it and at first the words just don’t come. “What are you doing here?” I ask, so surprised that I can barely imagine how he got here.

I told you I’d come for you,” Matt says, flashing me a bright grin. His steely grey eyes are watching me, waiting for a response or something. I take a deep breath, trying to get a hold of the delicious thrill floating through my body caused by his nearness. The same feeling as when we were in the bar together, but somehow, so much more palpable now that he is standing right in front of me.

He finally takes pity on me. “I thought we could go somewhere for a cup of coffee and get to know each other,” Matt says, looking at me with a little smirk.

I nod, smiling, still trying to find my tongue which has embarrassingly forgotten how to move. “Of course, you just surprised me. You’re actually here, in Russia!” I shake my head, flustered by my embarrassment. “Do come in for a minute. We have quite a few places within walking distance we could go,” I say, opening the heavy white door and allowing him through before I close it.

He glances around at the open concept space. “Great view,” Matt says, gesturing out the living room windows which overlook Red Square and the high-rises that encompass Moscow and the Kremlin.

“Thanks, I sorta love it, too. I wanted a place city-center, right in the middle of all the action. I love the hustle and bustle of city life,” I say.

He looks at me and something flashes across his eyes, but then quickly disappears. “I know what you mean. It’s got a vibe about it that just energizes you, somehow makes you a part of it. I have a condo in downtown Chicago, right in the heart of things for the very same reason,” Matt says.

“Let me grab a pair of shoes for walking,” I say, heading toward my bedroom, slipping into a pair of low heeled boots. He’s looking out over the city when I return. The intensity of my desire for this man washes over me, and each delicious little tingle thrumming through my body has me on edge. I cringe at the thinness of my t-shirt, knowing he can see the hardened peaks when he turns to gaze at me, but I find that I can’t look away.

“It’s still there, that energy between us. You feel that Princess?” Matt says.

There’s no sense in lying. I’ve never felt something like this before, and I nod slowly. I may not have ever been interested in starting relationships and certainly am not now, but this thing between us-it’s exciting. “I do, why do you call me Princess?” I ask, looking up at him.

“Because you look like a princess and you hang out in a white ivory tower,” Matt says, gesturing at the view in front of us.

I can’t help but smile widely. “You know princesses aren’t always what they appear to be. Sometimes they are...” I contemplate, looking for just the right words.

“Disobedient and willful,” Matt says, finishing my sentence.

“I would have described it a little bit differently,” I say, pretending to pout.

“No, I gave you a direct order, and you made the decision not to listen, but instead to put yourself in danger,” Matt says.

“I took two of these men out. Don’t act like you couldn’t have used the help,” I say.

“I appreciate the fact that you put your own life in jeopardy to save mine. That was sweet Princess, really sweet, but also disobedient. If I had needed intervention, it would have been there. Come on, let’s go to a coffee shop and you can catch me up on everything. I hear you’ve had quite an adventure since we were last together,” Matt says, taking my hand in his own and guiding me out the door.

“Would you mind a quick stop? It’s on the way and I need to replace my phone.”

“Not at all, lead the way,” he says.

It’s a small shop and it doesn’t take long for them to replace my phone. We walk from the cell shop to the local café where we are seated at a high table at the back of the establishment. “What would you like?” Matt asks, as I slip out of my jacket and place it on the seat beside me. “Chocolate cappuccino, please.”

“Hmm, a girl after my own heart. I think I’ll take the same,” Matt says, requesting it in perfect Russian when the waitress comes to take our order. I look at him over the small table and meet his steely grey eyes. “Who the hell are you people?” I ask, and his eyes dance with delight.

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