Nikolai: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One – Nikolai

  Chapter Two – Emily

  Chapter Three – Nikolai

  Chapter Four – Emily

  Chapter Five – Nikolai

  Chapter Six – Emily

  Chapter Seven – Nikolai

  Chapter Eight – Nikolai

  Chapter Nine – Emily

  Chapter Ten – Nikolai

  Chapter One — Andrei

  Chapter Two — Sarah

  Chapter Three — Andrei

   Copyright 2018 by Ava Bloom - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

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  Nikolai

  A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

  Ava Bloom

  Table of Contents

  Nikolai

  Chapter One – Nikolai

  Chapter Two – Emily

  Chapter Three – Nikolai

  Chapter Four – Emily

  Chapter Five – Nikolai

  Chapter Six – Emily

  Chapter Seven – Nikolai

  Chapter Eight – Nikolai

  Chapter Nine – Emily

  Chapter Ten – Nikolai

  ANDREI (Story Preview)

  Andrei

  Chapter One — Andrei

  Chapter Two — Sarah

  Chapter Three — Andrei

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  Nikolai

  Chapter One – Nikolai

  Diego knew how to throw a good party, I reflected as we stumbled along towards Ritmo. It took a lot to get Russians drunk, yet he had managed it before we’d even reached our final stop for the night. Dima, my younger brother, started singing a bawdy love song in loud, slurred Russian, and half the party—the Russian half—joined in, prompting a flurry of Catalan curses overhead. A woman dumped a bucket of water off a high balcony, narrowly missing the group, and we spun away laughing.

  A typical night in Barcelona, surrounded by good friends.

  I grinned: and about to get even better, as I saw the line of sexy girls trying to get into Ritmo. If there were this many hotties outside, the inside had to be hopping.

  We cruised to the front of the line, one of the perks of being related to the owner. When Uncle Evgeni had bought this place, it had seemed too good to be true: a prime beachfront locale in Barcelona, with interesting architecture just ready to be turned into a hot club with multiple dancefloors, alcoves, bars, and more. It was a wonder that the previous managers had never been able to turn it into anything.

  Evgeni had relied heavily on us for inspiration for the place. Well, on Andrei mostly; Dima and I usually just showed up to his meetings to drink our way through the vodka that he kept stocked there. But Andrei had always been the good kid.

  I smirked over at Andrei, my youngest brother, watching as his eyes slid past the girls on the dancefloor and locked on the woman behind the bar. He was totally whipped; I hadn’t seen him have any fun since he’d started dating Sarah. Then again, that was the hazard of fucking a coworker of sorts. He couldn’t have fun at Ritmo anymore; he would have to go elsewhere or else cause serious amounts of drama.

  I would never be like that.

  “That group,” Dima said, nudging me. It wasn’t hard to see where he was looking: there was an eclectic group in one of the back alcoves. I’d think they were friends except for the awkward way a couple of them were sipping their drinks and looking around before their eyes darted back towards the group. Conversation didn’t seem to be flowing; no one really seemed like they were having fun.

  I wondered whether Dima was indicating them because of the three bombshells in the middle of the group, or because he thought that as Evgeni’s nephews, we had a duty to go over there and liven up their night. Either way, I was in.

  Especially if it meant I got to go home with the ice queen in the center. I didn’t know her yet, and there was a chance that her personality was better than it seemed, but she definitely had a strong case of resting bitch face. Or maybe she just didn’t want to be there. Whatever it was, her light-colored eyes were narrowed, and as I watched, she mussed up her short, blonde hair, looking longingly at the dance floor.

  Oh honey, if you want to dance, you don’t have to ask, I thought.

  I nudged Dima right back. “The blonde is mine,” I told him.

  Dima sighed. “You always pick the hottest one,” he complained.

  “I’m the oldest,” I reminded him smugly. “Now, are you going to be my wingman, or are you going to find your own group to try your luck with?”

  Dima shook his head and nodded at me. I nodded to Diego. “It’s been a great night, but I’m afraid Dima and I are not the ones getting married on Sunday, and as such, we are not going home alone tonight.”

  Diego grinned at us. “I expected you might make a move once we got here,” he said, looking loose and relaxed, his veins likely filled with more alcohol than blood. I admired him for even trying to keep up with us that night. But then again, he’d had a bit of practice, in the years that we’d known him.

  Diego was one of my best friends in Barcelona. I’d met him the week that I’d moved there, when he’d tried to steal my wallet out of my pocket. When I’d questioned why an apparently affluent Spanish man would do such a thing, he’d just shrugged and said he was bored.

  Suffice it to say, I’d been able to keep his life interesting since then. Granted, he would never be a full member of the mafia given that he wasn’t Russian, but Evgeni had adopted him into the fold and used his skills over the years. I wondered how much of that would change now that the man was getting married.

  But for now, I shook my head to clear it, squared my shoulders, and walked confidently across the bar to the group of women.

  “All right,” I said, clapping my hands together as I reached their table, “who’s doing shots with my brother and I? My treat.”

  The girls looked at one another, and it was almost as though they each wanted to agree but were, for some reason, nervous about it. What a weird group. “I don’t think so,” one of the women finally piped up—not my blonde one, fortunately.

  I sighed and put a hand over my heart. “You wound me,” I said. I slung an arm around Dima’s shoulders, drawing him forwards. “But you see, it’s my brother’s birthday, and it’s my brotherly duty to help him get good and drunk. And to find someone for him to dance with.”

  Again, the girls looked uncertain. “Oh come on,” one of the brunettes finally said, putting her palms face-down on the table as she looked keenly around at the rest of the girls. “I know we said that we were just coming here for a few drinks, but there’s no reason why we can’t do a little dancing as well, is there?”

  There were a few reluctant murmurs of agreement around the table. The brunette stood up and came to stand next to me. “Well, if none of the rest of you are game, I am. I’ll see you chickens at work on Monday.”

  Oh. The realization suddenly struck me: they were coworkers. No wonder things were so awkward between them. I had to stifle a smile. It was going to be easy to get the blonde woman to leave behind her friends for the night and come home with me. If girls were out with their friends, they always had that pesky sense of protection for everyone else, wanting to make sure that everyone made it home okay at the end of the night. But if they were just coworkers, then it was
understood that each person would fend for themselves and that they would see each other on Monday to compare tales of the end of the night.

  Not that most of these women seemed like the type to have a rocking end to the night. I started to wonder if maybe Dima and I should have chosen different prey. I knew that we could take them home, of course; I basically never had to worry about striking out at the bar. But it might be more effort than it was worth.

  Still, with the brunette firmly on our side, the others started to waver and stand up as well.

  “I think I’m just going to go home,” the other brunette said, faking a yawn.

  “Oh come on, Rachael,” the blonde girl said, rolling her eyes, and I had to stifle a smile at that. With how game she was to do shots and the way that her eyes lingered on me, I knew that it was going to be no problem taking her home with me.

  Sure enough, by the time I got her out on the dancefloor, she was giggly and flirtatious, her hands roaming over my chest and finally settling behind my neck, leaving me with no choice but to rest my hands on her hips—not that I wanted to put them anywhere else. Especially since she didn’t seem to mind as I let them slide lower until they rested on her curved behind.

  Mmm, there were so many ways that I wanted to take her already.

  One of the things that I loved about dancing with a woman is that they usually felt like you were getting to know one another, for some reason, even if the only information that you’d exchanged was your names. So amusing…

  I let Emily keep dancing for a while, but I knew better than to let her tire herself out already. Instead, I leaned in close to her ear. “You know, I have a very nice bottle of wine back home, if you were interested in moving this to someplace more private.”

  To my surprise, Emily froze, staring at me with wide eyes, as though this ending to the night had never occurred to her. She looked around, as though she was suddenly becoming aware that her coworkers were still all around her, dancing with various people or one another. I realized Dima wasn’t with them and spared a thought to wonder where he had gone off to and if he had managed to snag one of the coworkers already. If so, I was impressed.

  But for now, I focused on Emily. “You can’t tell me that you don’t want this,” I said, emphasizing my words by grinding against her, knowing that she could feel how interested I had become as we were dancing together.

  She pulled away, though. “I’m not like that, okay?” she said.

  I rolled my eyes. “What, you never have sex?” I asked, knowing that that couldn’t be true. The way that she’d been swinging her hips on the dancefloor was positively sinful; there was no way she’d never been fucked before. She had to know exactly what she did to men.

  “I can’t leave my friends,” she said stubbornly.

  I snorted. “Aren’t they your coworkers?”

  “Even more reason why I can’t just leave them,” Emily said.

  “Why, because you’re afraid that they’ll know you went home with an attractive guy?” I asked. God, women were so ridiculous sometimes.

  Emily stood up tall. “If you don’t stop bothering me, I’m going to call security and have you thrown out,” she said frostily.

  I laughed. “Go ahead and try,” I told her. “I practically own this place.”

  For a moment, Emily looked uncertain, but then she scowled at me. “If that’s so, then maybe I’ll have to quit coming here!” She spun on her heel and stormed out, and for a moment, I actually felt bad, like I had done something wrong.

  But that was ridiculous. I had made my intentions clear the whole night, and she had as well. It wasn’t my fault that she had suddenly decided that she had morals and that she couldn’t go home with me.

  I shook my head and headed for the bar. If I wasn’t going to get laid that night, after getting all worked up and horny, I was going to need some strong alcohol to put me to sleep. I glanced around, wondering whether there were any other females that I should attempt to go after, but it was getting late, and most of the attractive ones had already paired off.

  I knocked back a triple-shot of vodka and then grabbed my coat, heading out into the chilly autumn night.

  Chapter Two – Emily

  My head was throbbing, and my first thought upon waking was, thank God I didn’t have to teach that day. I wasn’t sure that I would have been able to manage it.

  I thought back to the previous night, wondering what had gone wrong. Shots, I remembered. Those Russian guys had come over and convinced us all to do shots with them. And I had had not only one vodka shot, but also Tina’s shot, when she had realized that it was vodka. She might not drink vodka, but I certainly did, especially when I was already feeling so awkward and bored with the whole thing.

  And especially when there was a hot Russian guy standing there looking like he wanted to devour me.

  I shivered all over as I thought back to Nikolai. Hmm, there was a thought to make the hangover go away, or at least to make it more bearable. I’d been drawn in instantly by those classic features: the strong jaw and the piercing blue eyes. We hadn’t had a chance to talk very much; it had been too loud in Ritmo for that. But from what he’d said, I could imagine how deep and husky his voice would become when he talked dirty, how he would growl as he threw me back onto the bed…

  Unbidden, my hand crept down between my legs. Then, I paused, feeling embarrassed.

  I hadn’t come to Barcelona looking for a one-night stand. I had to focus: I liked my job, and I wasn’t about to lose it. I should never have gone out to the bar the previous night, and I definitely shouldn’t have had so much to drink. There were placement tests to grade and lessons to plan. The school hadn’t had its bilingual program for long, and it was clear that the previous teacher hadn’t had much experience in curriculum planning. I basically had to come up with a new plan from scratch.

  But I didn’t mind the work. I got to work with adorable 5- and 6-year-olds, who would hopefully grow up through the program, with a couple lessons a week in each art, music, P.E., and science, so that by the time they were ready to go to university, they would already be fluent in English. It was an amazing idea, and I was so excited to get to work on that.

  Beyond that, this was the first time that I’d been able to net a job in a major city that I wanted to live in. Because I didn’t have a European passport, I had had to gain experience teaching ESL in places where they were desperate for teachers or where visa requirements were a little less strict. That had meant taking a couple years teaching in Asia, followed by a couple years in small villages in Eastern Europe.

  There were so many reasons that I wanted this position to work out, and I couldn’t afford to get distracted by a guy. And I definitely didn’t need all my coworkers to see me in such a…compromising position.

  I blushed just thinking about it, and I slowly withdrew my hand from my panties.

  I sighed as the throbbing in my skull worsened. Fortunately, I had left a full bottle of water and two aspirin tablets on my nightstand. Thank you, drunk Emily, I thought sarcastically. Might have been wiser to just, you know, not do all the vodka shots, but at least I had kind of taken care of myself.

  And at least I didn’t have work today.

  I rolled out of bed a little while later and stumbled into a hot shower, wishing that something would cure my hangover. Wishing that I could get the sexy Nikolai out of my head as well…

  Finally, I decided to head up to Mont Juïc that afternoon with my art supplies. It was one of my favorite spots in the city: never too busy if you knew where to go, and it offered magnificent views of the Barcelona skyline. You could see everything, from the spires of Sagrada Familia to all of the fancy office buildings. The only place to get a better view, really, was from out on the water, but I didn’t make enough with my painting (or my teaching) to warrant hiring a boat every time I wanted to go paint!

  I smiled a little at the thought, collected my things, and headed up the hill. Fortunately, it wasn’t a very
long walk, although it was a bit steep in places. One of the perks of living near La Rambla was that I was pretty central to everything. I had lucked out in finding a studio apartment in that area for so cheap, but as I understood it, my landlord had had problems with the previous person, so he’d just been happy when I’d been able to pay the first three months’ rent upfront.

  I sighed as I settled into my spot in the park, taking a sip of the tea that I’d brought with me in a thermos. It sure was beautiful up there, and already I was starting to feel better about my day. Of course, this still wasn’t the productive workday that I needed to have, but if I could power through enough work the next day, then I’d be fine. I didn’t need to turn in the full year’s curriculum just yet anyway.

  I mixed a couple colors on my palette and then started painting the background in slow, soothing brush strokes, feeling myself relax as I did so. At least until-

  “Fancy seeing you here.” That smug, Russian-accented voice…

  I looked up, seeing Nikolai smirking down at me, and for a moment, my brain clicked offline. Oh God… If I’d thought that he was sexy the night before, it was nothing compared to how he looked right now, dressed in tight-fitting running shorts and no shirt. There was a thin sheen of sweat coating his tanned, washboard abs. I felt a tug of lust in my gut, and I fought it down, along with the blush that came with it.

  “Are you all right?” Nikolai asked, and I could tell from his amused tone that he knew exactly what was wrong with me. Especially because…

  I hurriedly snapped my eyes back up to his, aware that I’d been staring. Sure enough, he was laughing at me.

  I swallowed hard. “I’m a bit hungover, actually,” I admitted, my mouth feeling parched. “I’m…not really processing properly.” As though that explained why I’d been staring.