Vladimir Read online

She nodded knowingly. “I think about that, too. I know it sounds ridiculous to say it out loud, but by the time you’re thirty in Hollywood, parts start drying up. It’s gotten a little better over the years, but it’s still not the same for women as it is for men. If I’m lucky, I can work in TV a lot longer, but I still have to be lucky.”

  “One injury can end career,” he said, sinking onto the couch after putting out the pizza, napkins, a bottle of wine and two glasses. “I have contract, but after two years, is all done.”

  “I hear you.” She reached into the box and pulled out a piece of pizza, sighing happily. “Oh, happy birthday to me!” She took a big bite and closed her eyes. This was heaven. It would be months before she had pizza again.

  “You look like you are having orgasm.” He watched her intently.

  Her eyes opened and she gave him a smirk. “But you know I’m not having an orgasm because I’m quiet!”

  His mouth opened but then he closed it again. He had no idea why he got uncomfortable when she talked about sex; he’d had sex with hundreds of women. This one, however, seemed able to get under his skin any time the subject came up.

  “What?” she asked when he didn’t say anything. “You don’t yell or anything when you get off?”

  He nodded. “Yes, sometimes, but I don’t talk about this.”

  “Why? Are you embarrassed talking about sex?”

  He frowned. “In locker room, no. With nice woman? Maybe.”

  “Nice women like sex, too. Especially ones who haven’t had sex in a long time.”

  “How long?” he asked after a moment.

  She shrugged. “September.”

  His eyes widened. “Months! I have never gone so long.”

  She sighed. “I like sex, but I can’t just sleep with anyone. I’ve had a few one-night stands, but I have to be careful. If I sleep with another actor, I have to trust him or he might tell everyone I’m a slut. If I sleep with a stranger, like a fan, he could be taking pictures or video or who knows what. If I sleep with someone else who’s famous, like a rock star, we wind up in the tabloids. There’s a real double standard for women.”

  He shook his head. “I would tell no one. And no pictures—this is bad for me also.”

  “Jamie and I learned a hard lesson with that.”

  “I remember.” He spoke quietly. “Jamie was angry.”

  “He thought Marco stole the DVD out of his bag.”

  “Asshole.” Vlad shook his head. He hated to think ill of the dead, but he was glad the team’s starting goaltender, Marco Rousch, had been killed; the guy had been a menace.

  “At least we don’t have to worry about him anymore.” She concentrated on the pizza, chewing slowly and enjoying every bite. She only got to have pizza three or four times a year, so this was special. She always ate whatever she wanted on her birthday, even though it would mean hours at the gym in the next week to make sure the fat stayed off her ass.

  “I like to watch you eat pizza.” Vlad smirked. “Is sexy.”

  She met his gaze and tipped her face up, letting the pizza dangle down into her mouth. She wrapped her tongue around a long string of cheese and then closed her lips around it, sucking it in. His eyes never left hers and she gave him a look before closing her eyes and moaning as she chewed, slowly and deliberately.

  “You said you are not a tease,” he whispered huskily. “But you are.”

  Her eyes opened and she swallowed. “I said I wouldn’t tease you last night in my bed. I didn’t say anything about later. And anyway, who’s teasing?”

  He slid closer to her on the couch and wrapped an arm around her neck before finding her mouth with his. They’d both known this was coming, but the real thing was so much better than what either of them had imagined. Her mouth was soft and sexy beneath his, her tongue eager to mate. He used his other hand to grip the back of her neck, stroking her soft skin. He wrapped a thick lock of hair around one finger and sighed at how silky it was to the touch. She was magnificent, and when she turned her body to press her chest to his, he was lost. He had no idea what was happening, but this woman changed everything he knew about sex. For the first time, he was in no hurry. Kissing her, exploring her skin with his fingers, and listening to her breath close to his was almost more than he could stand. The sensations rippling through him were so erotic he was almost frozen with desire.

  “You are beautiful,” he whispered, moving his lips down her throat and nibbling along her jaw. “This is nice.”

  “This is even better than pizza,” she murmured. She’d known he had a great body after seeing him take off his shirt early this morning, but feeling it up against her was amazing. He was hard and toned all over, with biceps that made her feel tiny. The need to lose herself in him was overwhelming but she didn’t want to rush. Something about Vlad was different and suddenly she wanted him to be more than just a way to have an orgasm.

  “This is soon,” he said reluctantly, almost reading her mind as he pulled away, his hands resting at her waist.

  “You want to wait?” she whispered, her face close to his.

  “No,” he admitted. “But maybe waiting is good? You are not like other women I sleep with—you are lady.”

  She flushed, surprised and a little embarrassed that he held her in such high esteem. “Believe me,” she whispered. “I’ve done my share of mindless fucking. I’m no angel, but eventually you get to a point in life where you want more than that. It doesn’t have to be forever—I think that’s where a lot of guys get hung up. You don’t have to be in love to make love. Know what I mean?”

  He nodded even though he didn’t understand, since fucking was all he’d ever done. He was pretty sure he’d never made love to a woman because he’d never been in love, but now she made it seem like love wasn’t part of it. On the other hand, he did understand that sometimes women liked slow and sexy, with lots of kissing and touching, instead of fast and hard. He liked all of it, and apparently Rachel did, too, since she’d been quick to admit she’d done her share of sleeping around. He didn’t want to disappoint her, and something in his gut told him honesty would be very important in this situation. “Maybe I am not good at…making love.”

  Her eyes met his in surprise. “I don’t think a guy who kisses like you do has problems in bed.”

  “Not problems…” He hesitated. “I am worried maybe I am only able to fuck?”

  She leaned up to kiss him again, her lips hovering for a second before pulling away. “Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned all that,” she said quietly. “I don’t want you to worry about it—I like it almost any way you want to do it. I’m just telling you up front that I need romance sometimes, too. After the way you just kissed me? I’m positive you know what you’re doing.”

  “I have never been in love,” he said slowly. “Except as teenager, but not adult, not real love. I don’t understand if to make love requires real love.”

  “No. I’ve made love with guys I wasn’t in love with—it’s not all about the feelings. I don’t think you can make love during a one-night stand, but you can definitely do it with someone you’re dating that you like a lot.”

  “I like you a lot.” He pulled her close, nuzzling her neck. “And I still think to wait is better.”

  “How long?” she asked, pursing her lips and pretending to pout. “It’s been three months for me. How long has it been for you?”

  “Last night does not count because we start but did not finish,” he said slowly. “So two weeks.”

  “And how long do I have to wait?” she teased, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Three months is a lot longer than two weeks.”

  “Tomorrow I have practice,” he said slowly, finding her fingers with his. “The next day is game, then I leave for Vancouver. We go to Anaheim in two weeks. Can you wait two weeks?” His eyes met hers with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

  She groaned loudly, though she was laughing. “And what do I get in two weeks?”

  “Everything.�
�� He smiled. “There will be…” His voice faded as he searched his mind for the words in English. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, he pulled out his phone and sent Toli a text. A moment later he got a response. “Sexual tension?”

  She burst out laughing, climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Okay, we can wait until you come to Anaheim, but if we wait, the deal is off with teasing.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What this means?”

  “This means I get to tease you all I want.” She ran a hand down his broad chest. “We still get to make out tonight, right?”

  He nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes?”

  “Kiss me, Vlad. It’s been a long time since I spent the night making out on the couch without winding up in bed. Think you can do it?”

  He grinned. “Oh, yes. I can do this.” He found her mouth again, kissing her with slow, delicious strokes that made his dick stiffen in his jeans and her breath get raspy. He found her nipple through her clothes and used his thumb to tease it erect while his other hand cupped her sweet ass. This was going to kill him, but she was worth it. He was going to give her a taste of what was to come, and then he would go back to his pizza. It might mean two weeks of cold showers, but he didn’t care.

  He brought her around so that she straddled him fully, and he slid his hands under her blouse, stroking the silky skin of her back.

  “No fair,” she whispered, meeting his eyes. “Now you’re teasing me.”

  “I will stop,” he whispered back, pressing light kisses behind her ear. “We have more pizza. And birthday cake.”

  “There’s birthday cake?” Her head snapped up.

  He laughed. “Yes. Vanilla and chocolate—you have choice since I did not know what you like.”

  “Both!” She laughed, too. “Can we have cake now?”

  “Yes.” He slowly pulled away, adjusting his jeans so that he didn’t lose all the circulation in his dick.

  “Are you okay?” she asked with a chuckle, patting his crotch.

  He arched an eyebrow. “I am fine. Two weeks,” he said firmly.

  8

  Present Day

  Evgeni Vlacic still coached one of the Russian national men’s junior teams and though it took a few phone calls and a lot of internet research at the hotel, Vlad finally found the address for the rink where he now worked. It was in a swankier section of Moscow, and it had been upgraded since Vlad had last played there. Coach Vlacic had worked for a different team when Vlad had played for him, but they’d played the teams from this rink many times.

  A wave of nostalgia washed over him as he walked inside, taking in the smell of rubber, the frigid air, the sound of blades scraping across the ice. It was busy, teenagers in various states of dress joking with friends, packing up equipment, checking their phones, getting ready to leave. That had been him less than five years ago, right before he’d left for the U.S. He’d played at rinks like this all over Russia and for a moment he was lost in the memories.

  “You’re Vladimir Kolnikov.” A tall, lanky teen of about seventeen looked at him with confidence in his identity.

  Vlad was momentarily taken aback. Outside of North American rinks and arenas, he lived a life of anonymity. Being recognized so quickly here in Moscow was a little unnerving, but he managed to nod.

  “Yes. Hello.”

  “Holy shit.” The teen’s eyes widened. “You’re a legend!”

  Vlad smiled. “Nah, I’m just a guy from Moscow who plays hockey.” He held out his hand and soon he was surrounded by a dozen young players, shaking hands and taking pictures that would undoubtedly be online within the hour. He mentally cringed, but there was no help for it short of being a complete dick, and it would hit the internet just as quickly if he went that route.

  Word spread like wildfire and more kids joined the melee. Though he’d been uncomfortable initially, he remembered meeting a couple of his hockey idols in settings just like this, and he wanted these kids to have the same fond memories he had. If it took a little time, everything else could wait. He signed autographs and took selfie after selfie, answering questions about life in Las Vegas and his teammates on the Sidewinders. It wasn’t until someone asked about Rachel that he stiffened and shook his head.

  “I’m not going to talk about my fiancée,” he said quietly. “Please respect my privacy on that.”

  “What’s going on out here?” A deep booming voice startled them and Vlad looked up into the face of Coach Vlacic.

  “Hello, Coach.” Vlad grinned at him.

  “Vlad!” There was surprise on the other man’s face before he broke into a grin and firmly pumped his hand. “All right, boys, have you gotten your pictures? Vlad hasn’t got all day and most of you have to get home.”

  The boys made a hasty exit and within a couple of minutes Vlad was following him back to his office.

  “I’ve been following you in Las Vegas,” Evgeni said once they’d shut the door behind them. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Thank you.” Vlad flushed with pleasure and mentally chided himself. He wasn’t a child and this man was no longer his coach, but somehow the praise warmed him.

  “Ran away from a woman, eh?” Evgeni chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

  Vlad narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to talk about Rachel.”

  “Come now. You haven’t set foot in Russia since you left, but you practically walk out of your wedding and come straight here? Of course you’re running.”

  “I’m running towards, not away from,” Vlad corrected him mildly.

  “You’re coming back to Russia?”

  “Not for hockey, but I have unresolved issues.”

  “Like what?” Evgeni frowned.

  “What do you know about my parents?”

  “Your parents?” Evgeni looked shocked. “I know they found you playing street hockey outside an orphanage and Ilya Novoseltsev molded you into the scrawny teenager I got. I haven’t a clue about anything before that.”

  Vlad lifted his chin a notch and met the other man’s gaze. “Why did I get the prettiest prostitutes?”

  “What?” He tried to act as though he had no idea what Vlad was talking about, but the vein throbbing in his neck belied his discomfort with the question.

  “Where did the whores come from?” Vlad continued. “They were brought in to keep us from going looking for regular girls to have sex with, but I got the prettiest ones, the nicest ones, the cleanest ones. Why?”

  “You were already a star,” the older man responded. “You were going places and—”

  “Bullshit. I had talent but all the guys had access to those girls. I remember the one who came for me every Sunday night like clockwork for months, even on the road. Her name was Natalya. Blonde, beautiful, clean… Why did I get her?”

  Evgeni waved an impatient hand. “Vlad, she was a fucking prostitute! What do you care? You were a good-looking kid, too. The girls fought to be with you and we chose accordingly. Natalya seemed to make you happy and you were always relaxed after being with her, so I made sure she was around whenever you needed that kind of thing.”

  “She told me once she was more expensive than the other girls.” He folded his arms across his chest. “The last time I saw her, she said she’d saved up enough to buy a small apartment and wasn’t going to be a whore anymore. That’s a lot of money for a girl sleeping with junior hockey players.”

  Evgeni sighed. “Vlad, leave it alone.”

  “What the fuck?” he demanded in frustration. “Why does everyone say that? It’s like you all know something about my past but refuse to tell me.”

  “I don’t know who else you’ve spoken to, but I can tell you I don’t know anything. I can only surmise based on my experiences.”

  “Surmise what?”

  The other man shook his head. “You were the only player I ever had this kind of experience with, where someone behind the scenes was managing your life, so to speak.”

  “What does that mean?”


  “It means I was given money to provide for you—warm clothes, new boots in winter, clean blankets, even cleaner whores. I got a sizeable bonus every month for keeping my mouth shut and making sure you were cared for. I never asked and I truly never wanted to know. Whoever was watching over you had to be in a position of wealth and power, because the money was hefty, the bonuses notable and the secrecy almost tangible. Someone went to great lengths to take care of you while remaining anonymous. The goal was to get you to the NHL and once you were drafted, I was told to watch out for you, make sure you got into no trouble between then and when you left for North America nine months later.”

  “Then what?”

  “I was given a final bonus and never contacted again.”

  Vlad blew out a breath of frustration. “You don’t know where the money came from?”

  “Sent by courier once a month. When the messenger arrived, I was to give him a report on how you were doing and occasionally I was asked to send photos. Mostly from tournaments and championships, especially the one in Kiev.”

  Vlad frowned. “Why that one?”

  “I don’t know. I was told specifically to make sure many pictures were taken during the championships that year. They wanted pictures of the whole event, both on and off the ice, with fans, everything.”

  “I have some of those pictures,” Vlad said slowly.

  “There was a photographer for that, to get pictures of everyone on the team, but I hired someone separate to focus on you.”

  “So you don’t know who got the reports or where your money came from?”

  “No.”

  “What about the courier service?”

  “It wasn’t a service, Vlad. It was a private messenger. He looked mafia to me, but what do I know? This is why I’m telling you to let it go. If your birth father was mafia, you don’t need to be involved in this. Go home. Enjoy your life. Make up with the pretty movie star. Be happy. You had a hard life growing up—why do this to yourself?”

  Vlad clenched his teeth together to keep from showing any emotion. Had his father been some murdering mobster who’d knocked up some bimbo and then abandoned them both? The thought made him a little sick, but then he remembered a woman had been giving Ilya money, and if that had been his mother, she had to be wealthy, too, didn’t she?