Her Russian Billionaires - The Complete Billionaire Romance Collection
HER RUSSIAN
BILLIONAIRES
THE COMPLETE SERIES
SUSAN WESTWOOD
Copyright Notice
Susan Westwood
Her Russian Billionaires © 2015, Susan Westwood
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
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About This Collection
Three Incredibly Sexy Russian Billionaires In One Red Hot Package!
Bestselling author Susan Westwood presents this boxed set which features all 3 books from her popular “Her Russian Billionaire” series that has been topping the charts for the past year. This is a unique opportunity to get 3 bestsellers for 1 low price!
This boxed set includes the novels listed below. Each is a complete novel with no cliffhangers!
#1 VIKTOR
Handsome billionaire Viktor is working late in his office when a young girl named Alia turns up scared and afraid. Viktor has no choice but to help this young woman out even if it means using his dangerous connections to do so...
#2 SACHA
When Kendra is assigned the job of stopping powerful billionaire Sacha from opening a Manhattan nightclub she is willing to do what it takes to stop him. However, when she gets to know the handsome billionaire she soon finds his charms are almost impossible to resist..
#3 NIKO
When career woman Destiny headed to a bar to drown her sorrows she was delighted to find a drinking partner in a man named Niko. Little did she know he was also one of the most powerful men in Manhattan and their lives were about to cross in more ways than one..
Contents
BOOK 1 – VIKTOR
BOOK 2 – SACHA
BOOK 3 - NIKO
Her Russian Billionaire #1
VIKTOR
HER RUSSIAN BILLIONAIRE
SUSAN WESTWOOD
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places or events are entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2015 SUSAN WESTWOOD
Chapter One
Alia Jefferson walked out the back door of the bar she where worked. She turned back to wave to her co-worker, her best friend, Jess. “Have a good rest of your day,” she said.
Jess was short with red hair. A fireplug of energy and enthusiasm, even at three in the morning. “You, too, Alia. Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe.”
Alia laughed. “Yeah, if my phone works. It’s been giving me fits and I can’t afford a new one until payday.”
Jess frowned. “Then call me from your landline. I worry about your route home.”
Alia waved off her concern. She’d been walking these streets since she was still single digits. The only difference was the time of day. No one bothered her. Unlike the pale, little Jess, Alia was taller, with mocha skin. It gave her a little bit of cache in this neighborhood of many ethnicities.
The Hispanics thought her one of them, as did the African Americans. Having some white blood in her made her appearance not truly black, but not truly white, either. She shrugged. It just was.
She put her purse strap over her head so it would sit across her body. That way any purse-snatchers would have a harder time stealing it. She strode out of the alley as if she owned the place.
The other reason no one bothered her.
There were only a handful of people on the street in this part of town She recognized none of them. Often patrons of the bar who had hooked up at last call were still in the alley doing the nasty. The thought made Alia shudder.
Not that she was a prude, but sex among the dumpsters did not appeal to her.
Her footsteps echoed in the street as she left those people behind. Two more blocks to the subway station. Two more dangerous blocks. But her heart didn’t race. This was where she worked.
Well, she grew up in the Bronx and she didn’t back down.
She dared anyone to mess with her and her bag, which held a small brick in it, just in case she had to swing it at someone. No one had found out yet.
Noises came from an alley up ahead. She sighed. Should she tiptoe past it? She didn’t want to get involved. That was the other reason, no one touched her. She minded her own business.
She crossed the street to avoid the alley, but something drew her attention. A dim light shone into the small space. She saw a man on his knees, a gun to his head. He looked to be begging to a man in front of him.
She quickly averted her gaze. This was none of her business.
Then she heard the shot. She jumped and looked down the alley. The man who had been on his knees, was now writhing on the ground. The man with the gun turned his gaze to her.
Shit.
She spun away and ran halfway down the block. They would catch up with her. If she kept running, she might not make it to the subway. Even if she did, they might follow her onto it. What the hell?
There wouldn’t be enough people on it to make it safe. They would kill her and probably dump her body somewhere. Her brother would never know what happened to her.
Damn. She turned at the next corner, still in a full sprint. She noticed music coming out of a door someone had just opened. She slipped into that building before the door closed. She leaned on the door, her chest heaving.
Someone yelled at her, and for a moment, she thought the men from the alley had found her.
She looked around to see a plush red-carpeted hallway. The lights were dim and a large man was coming towards her. He spoke to her in another language. She had no idea what he was saying, but she bet she had a better chance with this mammoth then the two men who were chasing her.
She caught her breath finally as the man came to stand in front of her.
“English?”
“This is a private club. You need to leave.”
He sounded a little like those Russian bad guys in the James Bond movies she’d seen. “Please. There are men chasing me.”
“Why are they chasing you?”
He looked her up and down as if she were a piece of meat. Charming. I’m in danger and you’re looking to get laid. She pulled herself to her full height. She still only reaching his large neck.
“I saw a murder. Someone was shot. The guys who did it are after me.”
He frowned and appeared to be making a decision.
“Let me talk to Yuri,” he said. “You stay put.”
She nodded. She had no intention of going outside. The two men must have figured out where she had gotten inside. They could easily have seen her turn that corner. She waited for them to bang
on the door that she figured out how to lock.
Probably illegal in Manhattan to lock the door, but she wasn’t going to chance them getting inside. She’d be dead.
The man came back. “Follow me.”
She did, knowing her luck was better with him. “Thank you.”
He grunted as if her apology was not necessary or wanted. Once again, she couldn’t get past his charm. Guess when you were that big, you didn’t need charm.
The man could probably snap her into two.
First, he’d have to catch her and she’d been a track star in high school. He led her up a set of stairs. Below, men and women danced to a techno beat. Colored lights swirled all around her. Then they were through a door and the music couldn’t be heard anymore.
This hallway was well-lit and had carpeting that muffled their footsteps. He pointed to a chair. “You wait here. Boss will call you in.”
He spun on his heel and left her to contemplate who the boss was.
***
Viktor Kozlov stood at the window in his office that overlooked the dance floor. Bodies moved and writhed to some music that always gave him a headache. That’s why he’d soundproofed the upstairs of his club.
Every club he owned was this way. No matter what city in the world, he’d built the second floor the same way. Each club looked different, but not his space.
He ran a legitimate, private club, keeping a low profile in some nice neighborhoods around the world. This venture in Manhattan was newer to him. He wasn’t sure he liked it here in America.
Bribing did not work. You had to work within most of the laws. Unless you found a dirty official who could be bribed. Not as simple as Russia where you knew everyone wanted to be paid off.
He sighed. And now this woman was out the hallway with a story of a murder. He ran a tight ship and didn’t let any crime from the outside world invade his place.
“She’s waiting,” Sacha, his younger brother and lawyer, said.
“I know.”
“Just hear her story, then let her loose. No one’s knocked on our door so they have no idea she’s here.”
Viktor frowned then turned back to his brother. “Let her in and leave us alone. Have someone check around the block to see if anyone suspicious is about.”
“You want to see her alone? What if she says you tried to do something with her,” Sacha said.
He was always looking at things from a legal angle. Once in a while Viktor was sorry he’d paid for his brother’s schooling. The kid thought too much.
“Alone. Send her in,” Viktor said.
He was the oldest. He was the one to be obeyed.
Sacha nodded, then left. The girl didn’t walk in meekly. No, she strode into his office as if she was ready to take it over. Pretty ballsy for a woman who’d supposedly seen a murder. Then he looked into her eyes and knew her posture was mere bravado.
She was scared and her gaze darted around the room. Probably looking for a second escape route. Viktor remembered thinking like that. He was out of practice as his life had been very good since making his billions on nightclubs.
He brought the hottest Russian acts in, so, for a few hours, ex-pats from that part of the world could feel as if they were home. They paid well to have membership and in return, he made the place a safe haven.
Now this dark woman stood tall in his office. She might bring crime to his peaceful slice of heaven.
“Sit down.”
“I’d rather stand,” she said.
Her voice was sexy. Husky and smooth at the same time. Deeper than most women’s voices. It stirred something in him. He tamped it down. She would be on her way in a matter of minutes. As soon as his men said that, the area was safe.
He wanted her gone, but he had enough of a conscience to make sure she arrived to her destination safely.
“Tell me what you saw.”
“There were three men. One had a gun on another man. The other man was kneeling. I looked away then heard a gunshot. When I looked back, the kneeling man was on the ground. The man with the gun saw me, so I ran.”
Viktor sat down on his buttery leather chair. He steepled his hands in front of him then observed her. Now that her gaze had alighted on him, she wasn’t backing down.
“So you ran and found my club.”
“The door was open and about to close so I slipped in.”
“You could have entered any establishment on the block. Why mine?” he said.
“Yours was the only door open. All the bars are closed.”
“Mine is not because it is a private club.”
“I didn’t check the sign before I came here. I was running for my life.”
She had spunk. Even when she didn’t have the upper hand, she stood up to him.
Other than his mother, no one stood up to him. He wanted to laugh.
His phone on his desk buzzed. He answered it. “Viktor.”
“There are two men lurking on the other side of the street from us. Do you want me to take care of them?” his guard, Yuri, asked.
“No. That would make them suspicious. Leave them. I’ll deal with the woman.”
He hung up.
“Alia,” she said.
“What?”
“My name is Alia.”
Viktor nodded. “The two men are still out there. It isn’t safe for you.”
“Is there a back way? I can take that and find another subway stop to get home,” she said.
“They have probably called for reinforcements at this point. I can’t guarantee your safety once you are out of the club.”
“I’m not asking you to guarantee my safety.”
He laughed. “Why else would you have slipped into my club? I feel you are my responsibility now.”
She stiffened. “I can take care of myself.”
“That may be, but now you are under my protection.”
“I’ll just go.”
She turned to leave. Some part of him didn’t want her to go. His mother always preached that sometimes destiny came to you in odd forms. This might be one of those times.
“No.”
She stopped, glancing over her shoulder. “Am I being detained?”
He stood then walked around the desk. He sat on the edge of it. “No, but I’m asking you to stay. I can’t let you go, knowing you are in danger. Chivalry may be dead among American men, but in Russia, we take care of our women.”
“I’m not your woman.”
He smiled. “No, but you are under my care. You came under my care when you slipped in that closing door.”
Her shoulders slumped. “What happens now?”
“I offer you a bed to sleep in tonight. It’s late. Or early. Depends on how you look at things. No use trying to furtively make your way home.”
“You’re offering me hospitality? After I entered your club as a non-member?” She crossed her arms. “What’s the catch? I have to sleep with you?”
Viktor found that so funny that he laughed for a full minute. When he finally recovered, he said, “I have no designs on your body, Alia. I’m just being a nice guy, as you Americans say.”
Chapter 2
The man finally introduced himself. Viktor, he said his name was. He was one of the most beautiful white men she’d ever seen. Pale with dark hair with a little silver at his temple. He’d stand out in a crowd. His gray eyes could probably pierce steel. She wanted to touch that white skin.
He led her away from the club part of the building, then up a flight of stairs. He unlocked an industrial-looking metal door. “This is my home.”
She blinked as he motioned for her to go through ahead of him. Her instincts didn’t scream for her to run, so she walked past him. He smelled good. Some light cologne and then very much like a man. Odd for her to notice. She wasn’t in the market for a man.
The apartment was decorated in muted tones with some feminine touches. Was that his wife? There was clearly a female influence in his life. Why did it matter? She was goin
g to sleep a few hours, then go home.
Victor turned on a few lamps. “You need food?”
“No, I’m not hungry.”
“You sure? I could eat. I’ll make us something,” he said.
She couldn’t place his accent, but she’d never been very good at picking out those things. “Uh, I guess if you’re making something.”
“I am.”
He turned on the lights to a small, but efficient-looking kitchen. Stainless steel appliances. Dark, granite countertops. Not much bigger than her kitchen, but it looked to have everything one needed. Not that she was much of a cook.
“Sit,” Viktor said.
He motioned to utilitarian-looking stools in steel by a kitchen island. She slid onto one that was more comfortable than it looked.
Victor opened his refrigerator. “What can I make you?”
“You don’t have to make me anything.”
“I’m asking what you want. Just tell me. I can order out if you want.”
His hospitality overwhelmed her. Why was he being so nice?
“I’m not sleeping with you no matter how nice you are to me,” she said.
He slammed the door closed. “I’m not trying to sleep with you. You’re probably scared and hungry and I can take care of the hunger, then we can see about making you feel safe. Just know, that you are safe from me.”
She frowned as he opened the refrigerator again. She’d hurt his feelings. “Sorry.’
“You have nothing to apologize for. Now, I can grill up some steaks, if you’d like.”
At that moment, her stomach chose to betray her and rumbled. Viktor smiled at her and pulled out two pieces of beef that were thicker than Alia had ever seen. Steaks fit for king, probably.