Page 37 of Brutal Reign (Bratva Kings #3)

CHAPTER

THIRTY

PAVEL

Red strobe lights cut through the haze of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume, casting everything in the VIP room in shades of crimson and shadow.

Not exactly my venue of choice for arms negotiations, but Dmitri Aslan, head of the Turkish Crimson Brotherhood, insists on conducting business where he can stare at half-naked women.

Across the glass-topped table, Aslan leans back in his chair like he owns the place, gold teeth flashing every time he smiles. His three lieutenants flank him, all wearing expensive suits that can’t hide the fact they’re one generation removed from street thugs.

“These Javelins,” he says, not taking his eyes off the blonde gyrating on stage above us, “they’re American military grade?”

“Straight from a dealer in Benghazi,” Roman confirms, sliding a tablet across the leather booth. “Specs are listed here.”

I check my watch under the table. Seven-fifteen. Is that past a four-year-old’s bedtime? Shit, maybe I should google what time kids his age usually go to sleep.

I haven’t been home in three days. I had to inspect the missiles personally before bringing them back from Libya, which means I haven’t seen or spoken to Hope and Kin during that time.

It’s insane how much I miss them, considering how little time they’ve been in my life. Is this normal? Is this what Roman feels every time he has to leave Liza?

Roman raises an eyebrow, silently questioning why I keep looking at my watch. I tighten my jaw in response.

“The price is steep.” Aslan starts his negotiation. It’s a dance we’re used to. He reaches for his vodka and downs it in one shot. “Can you do better for an old friend?”

“Quality costs,” I snap, not in the mood for the kind of haggling he loves. “The price is more than fair. Are you in, or are you out?”

Roman kicks me under the table, his expression asking if I’ve lost my mind. This is a major deal we’re discussing, and Aslan doesn’t like to be rushed. He finds the drinking, haggling, and whoring the best part of the negotiation.

Roman grabs the bottle of vodka from the center of the table, pouring another round of shots. “What Pavel means is that we already gave you a good deal on the price. Now, it’s time to enjoy yourself.”

As if summoned, a redheaded dancer appears, leaning over to give us a view of her surgically enhanced tits. “You boys need anything?”

“We’re good,” I say without sparing her a glance. They can get to the fun when I’m gone.

For three days, I’ve fantasized about the way Hope came all over my hand in that closet like such a good girl. I don’t expect her to welcome me home with open arms, or open legs for that matter. But I am fucking starving for another taste of her. And everyone here is one more person in my way.

Aslan, however, pulls out a roll of hundreds. “Actually, sweetheart?—”

“Get your dick sucked after we finish our business,” I cut him off, my patience officially gone. “The missiles. Yes or no?”

There’s no way I’m spending one fucking minute watching Aslan get off when I could be home tucking Kin in. Or reading him a bedtime story.

The thought stops me cold. When’s the last time I wanted to read to anyone? Not since Kamilla was small and would curl up next to me with her favorite book, insisting I do all the character voices.

Aslan laughs like the psycho he is. “Jesus, Fedorov, relax. Let your cock out of your pants for once.” He leans back with a smirk, giving me his full attention. “You’re a single man. How come you never fuck one of these beautiful girls? You know that’s what they’re here for?”

“I’m done here,” I say, rising and pulling my Glock from its holster, aiming it straight at Aslan.

Every guard in the room snaps to attention, hands moving toward their weapons, but one look from me and they freeze.

The entire VIP section goes dead silent except for the pounding bass from the main floor.

“And for the record, I’m not single. I’m a married man. ”

Roman exhales slowly and shoots me a hard look, but I’m over this shit.

Aslan grits his teeth but manages to keep a cool tone. “That’s news to me. Who’s the lucky lady?”

“Are you taking the missiles or not? I don’t have time for any more bullshit.”

Aslan swallows. I’m not known for being a hothead, but he’s definitely pushed me to my limit. “Fine, fine. We have a deal.”

“Half upfront, half on delivery,” Roman says, rising to join me. “Money transfers within two hours. Good doing business with you again.”

Roman shakes the asshole’s hand while I tuck my Glock back into the waistband of my pants and head toward the door.

We walk past the main stage, where three women are doing things with a pole that definitely violate several health codes.

I can feel Roman’s eyes on me as we get into the back seat of the armored Escalade. When I check my watch again, he finally snaps. “What’s your fucking problem?”

“What time do you think four-year-olds go to bed?”

Roman shakes his head in exasperation. “You just pulled a gun during a fifty-million-dollar arms deal because you’re in a hurry to get home and do what exactly?”

“I don’t know,” I admit with a shrug. “Read Kin a bedtime story.”

He looks like he’s ready to pull his hair out. Or knife me in the gut. “Jesus fucking Christ. What happened to ‘the kid is not my responsibility’?”

I cross my arms and watch the city lights blur past the window. “He’s growing on me. He’s a kid. And you read Hope’s messages to Chen. She and Kin were miserable under Simon’s roof. He deserves better.”

Not only does he deserve better, but I want to be better for him, for both of them.

Roman scrubs a hand over his face. “Did you hear back from Maxim about it?”

I sent Maxim, Roman, and Nikolai the messages Dinara found between Chen and Hope, the ones showing Hope wasn’t a willing participant in the Black Company and that she isn’t a threat to our families.

I nod. Maxim is still on vacation with Kira, celebrating their anniversary in Paris, but he did message me back.

“He was pissed. ‘You fucking welcomed the daughter of our enemy into our home.’ His words, not mine. But I guess the messages convinced him she’s not a Black Company operative, because he wants to meet her. We’re all invited for Sunday lunch at their place when they get back.”

Roman chuckles, settling back in his seat. “Look at you, going all domestic. It’s fucking adorable.”

“Shut up.” I glance at him. “But seriously. Is it always going to be like this? Wanting to be with them instead of wherever the hell else you have to be?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Roman’s expression softens into that gooey look he gets when he talks about Liza. “Used to think work was the most important thing. Now, I spend half my meetings wondering what she’s doing, if she’s eating enough, or if the baby’s kicking.”

“Jesus.”

“And once the kid’s born?” He shakes his head. “I can’t even imagine. Probably going to turn into one of those guys who carries around wallet photos.”

I laugh and shake my head at how fucking fast everything has changed. “You’re going to be insufferable.”

“Says the man who threatened to shoot someone because he’s late for bedtime.”

Our vehicle pulls through the compound gates, and I check my phone. Nine o’clock.

Probably too late, but fuck it. I’m out of the car before it fully stops, taking the front steps three at a time.

There’s a light sheen of sweat on my forehead by the time I reach Kin’s room.

I’m acting on pure instinct, like a man whose world has shrunk to a single point.

But I don’t care. The need to see them outweighs everything.

I knock softly on the door to his room. After a moment, Hope opens it, her eyebrows pressing together when she sees me. The room behind her is dark, and I don’t have to guess why. He’s asleep.

She steps into the hallway and closes the door behind her.

She’s in yoga pants and a tank top. Her hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, though a few strands fall around her face.

I didn’t realize she wears glasses, but she does now, and I find it hot in a sexy librarian kind of way—another Hope fantasy for the spank bank.

When she clears her throat, I realize I’ve been staring at her.

“Is Kin still up?” I ask, loosening my tie. “I wanted to say goodnight to him.”

“He just fell asleep. He’s been having trouble lately.” She checks her watch and grimaces. “Four-year-olds usually go to bed a lot earlier than this.”

“Yeah, I figured.” I drag a hand through my hair, feeling like an idiot. “Business ran longer than expected.”

“I’m still awake,” Kin announces from inside the room.

Hope brings her hands up to her face, shaking her head. “God help me,” she groans.

“Can Pavel read me a book? Please, please, please!”

I offer her my most charming smile. “One book. What do you say?”

She rolls her eyes, but a grin tugs at her plush lips. Lips I’ve been fantasizing about tasting again. “He’s going to riot if I say no.”

Hope opens the door, and I follow her into the dark room. Kin is sitting up in his small bed, clutching a worn copy of some children’s book.

“Pavel!” His face lights up, and his expression alone hits me square in the chest.

“What’ve you got there, buddy?”

“ Goodnight Moon !” He holds the book up for me to see. “It’s my favorite.”

I settle onto one side of the bed while Hope takes the other, Kin between us. The mattress dips under my weight, and my knee brushes against hers. Even that innocent contact sends awareness of her shooting through me.

“Alright, here we go.” I clear my throat dramatically. “In the great green room, there was...”

As I read, I catch Hope’s eye over Kin’s head, and she gives me a soft smile.

A few pages in, I pause and look at Kin. “Wait, are we really saying goodnight to everything in this room?”

He nods with a giggle.

I continue reading, but when I get to “goodnight mush”, I stop entirely. “Mush? Who the hel— Heck says goodnight to mush?” I look at Hope, then back at Kin. “And their brush? What brush needs a bedtime story?”

“Don’t look at me,” Hope says, raising both hands. “It’s weird, but kids love it.”

I look at Kin and narrow my eyes. “This old lady whispering hush is highly suspicious. What’s she doing in his room anyway?”

“She’s being sneaky,” Kin whispers.

“Exactly,” I point out. “If some old lady was whispering in my room, I’d have some major concerns.”

By the final page, Kin has mellowed into sleepy contentment, his eyes drooping as he loses the fight to stay awake. Hope leans down to kiss his forehead and reaches over to switch off the bedside lamp, but other than that, neither of us moves, not wanting to wake him after he drifted off.

The room settles into peaceful quiet, Kin’s breathing the only sound between us.

With the faint glow from the hallway light filtering in, I can make out Hope’s expression, unguarded and open.

Thank you, she mouths.

I dip my chin, savoring the silence. Enjoying being here with both of them. It should feel strange, but instead it feels…right. My shoulders lower a few inches, and the armor I wear all the time dissolves.

I reach across the small space between us, my thumb brushing her cheek. Whether she means to or not, she leans into my touch, and I cradle her face with my palm.

“You’re a good mother, angel moy. He’s lucky to have you.”

Something shifts in her expression. Her beautiful face softens into something raw and vulnerable, and for a few beats, her eyelashes sweep against her skin and she lets herself relax into me.

But it doesn’t last long. She opens her eyes and seems to realize she allowed herself to give in to my touch. She pulls away, her jaw setting with that stubborn tilt I’m starting to recognize.

“You should go,” she murmurs.

“What are you so afraid of, Hope?”

She blinks at me, then looks away. “Everything.”

The single word carries the weight of her entire world.

I recognize that fear because I’ve lived with it my entire life. The fear of letting someone in only to lose them, of caring about something so much it becomes a weapon others can use against you.

She’s fighting herself, fighting the pull between us, because admitting it means admitting she might want to stay. And I bet that terrifies her more than anything else.

I could push and slowly break down her walls until she has nowhere left to hide. I’m used to getting my way by force, but with Hope, I want her to come to me on her own terms.

I rise from the bed carefully so I don’t disturb Kin. As I straighten, I let my hand trail briefly along his tiny shoulder.

At the doorway, I pause without turning around. “I’m a patient man when it comes to things that matter.”