Page 38 of Brutal Reign (Bratva Kings #3)

CHAPTER

THIRTY-ONE

HOPE

The night air is cool against my skin as I settle into the lounge chair on the terrace, cigarette smoke drifting up toward the scattered stars above. It’s quiet out here, with only the rustle of leaves in the wind.

The moment Pavel’s thumb brushed my cheek and he told me I’m a good mother, something inside me shattered. His words sliced through every defense I’ve built, making my throat tight.

Nobody’s ever told me I’m doing okay at this whole parenting thing.

Not that I’m fishing for compliments; Kin’s smile is all the validation I need.

But sometimes the doubt creeps in, especially since I haven’t given him a normal childhood.

He’s never had friends, or birthday parties with other kids, or any of the regular things children are supposed to have.

I take another drag of the smoke I bummed from a guard and try to make sense of the jumbled thoughts in my head.

Pavel rushed home to say goodnight, to read Kin a bedtime story.

That gesture hits harder than any of his sexual promises because it shows me the man I could fall for—the one who sees us as more than leverage.

If I’m not careful, I could lose myself completely.

It’s why I won’t give up on escape. It’s about giving Kin the chance at an actual childhood. Somewhere far away from organized crime, where he can go to school and play sports and have sleepovers without me constantly wondering if today’s the day our past catches up to us.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Pavel’s voice nearly makes me jump out of my skin. I turn quickly, a little surprised to find him here but, strangely, not disappointed.

I narrow my eyes. “Are you following me?”

He holds up a glass of amber liquid. “I’d say you’re following me. This is often where I enjoy a nightcap.”

He lowers himself onto the lounge chair beside me.

It’s impossible not to drink him in under the low light.

He’s pulled off his tie completely, and it hangs loose around his neck.

Even disheveled from long days of work, he looks devastating.

His hair is slicked back, and his face is softened by the hint of laugh lines around his eyes.

“I don’t really smoke. I snagged one from a guard earlier.” I take another drag, letting it calm my nerves. “Reminds me of my year at Cambridge. I’d sneak cigarettes when I was studying for exams or after I had a few drinks.”

He watches me with those intense gray eyes. “Miss those days?”

I purse my lips in thought. “It was the closest to normal I’ve ever felt.

Boarding school was all uptight rich kids being awful to each other, but uni was different.

More diverse, more people who actually cared about learning.

Of course, I didn’t even finish the year before I had to go into hiding.

Couldn’t keep in touch with anyone after that. ”

Pavel’s expression grows thoughtful. “You can reach out to them after we find Simon and all this shit is behind us.”

Us. He uses the word so casually. Like he’s already decided our futures are linked.

“What do you mean?” I shift to face him better.

“Old friends, classmates, whomever. Isn’t there anyone you’d want to reconnect with?”

“Maybe a few people, but it was hard getting close to anyone when I couldn’t tell them the truth.

Like, ‘Hey, my dad runs the biggest crime syndicate in Hong Kong, and I’m hiding out in England so his enemies don’t murder me’.

” I stub out my cigarette in the nearby ashtray.

“Easier to keep everyone at a distance than constantly lie about my life.”

I had a handful of friends, but only one, Daniel Ross, knew my real background.

We met during my first semester at university.

He was a few years older and a teaching assistant for my international relations class.

Over too many pints one day, he told me about his family’s money-laundering business for white-collar criminals.

That’s when everything spilled out about who my father really was and why I was sent to England.

Daniel understood what it meant to carry family secrets, to love someone despite their choices. He’s in Canada now, working as a lawyer with a family of his own. We haven’t talked in forever, but he’s still one of the few people I actually trusted.

“What about that Irish bartender you worked with in London?”

“Chloe,” I say with an easy smile. She was actually my lifeline when I was in London, one of the few people who really looked out for me, who cared. “She knew Lily. She never knew Hope.”

“But she could,” he points out. “There will always be danger in my world, but it doesn’t have to stop you from living. If you want to reconnect with old friends or finish university, or whatever it is you want to do, I’ll figure out a way to make it happen.”

I have no idea what to say to that. The words get oddly caught in my throat. I can’t figure out this man for the life of me. Every time I think I have, he surprises me.

“I’m not even sure what I’d want to do,” I admit.

Pavel takes a sip and leans back, his eyes never leaving mine. “When we were in London, you told me you’d want to write a book one day. There’s nothing stopping you now.”

I stub out the smoke. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything from that night.” So do I, but it feels dangerous to tell him. “What kind of book did you have in mind?”

I play with the end of my ponytail. I haven’t thought about this in so long.

“I always thought it would be cool to write a book about rebellious women in history, the ones nobody talks about. Like Ching Shih, the pirate queen who basically ran the South China Sea in the 1800s. It’s always the men who get remembered, but there are women who’ve done insane, badass things too. ”

When I look over, Pavel is staring at me with his eyebrows raised in a what’s-stopping-you expression.

“Maybe one day,” I say vaguely. Because if all goes well, I’ll be safely tucked away in New Zealand soon enough.

Pavel lies back, cradling his head in his hands. “Sorry I haven’t been around the last few days.”

The apology catches me off guard. “You don’t owe me an explanation. But Kin did ask about you earlier.”

Something warm flickers in his expression. “Yeah? What’d he say?”

“Wanted to know if you’d be back for breakfast tomorrow. I think you made a fan with those blinis.”

“Kin’s got good taste. Maybe I’ll try making them again tomorrow.”

“I’m not sure Yarik’s recovered from seeing the kitchen in that state.”

“He’ll get over it. He keeps telling me I need to learn a few domestic skills.”

“Seriously? You have a full staff to take care of everything.”

He flashes me that gorgeous half-smile that I swear made me fall for him in London. That still does dangerous things to my pulse now.

“According to Yarik, a real man can cook and do laundry.”

I snort. “I had no idea he was so progressive.”

“Progressive? I don’t know about that. He believes in being well-rounded.”

His warm eyes land on me, and I flush. Considering everything that’s happened between us, I have no idea how I could still feel shy around him. But somehow, when we’re alone and not fighting, I feel almost nervous.

The air between us suddenly feels electric, and I realize neither of us has moved or said a word in minutes. We’re just… staring at each other.

Memories of the closet flit through my mind.

The truth is, that moment has been front and center, playing on repeat in my head for days. Because nothing about this man is forgettable. Least of all the orgasms he gave me.

But there’s one detail I can’t stop thinking about.

“I can’t believe you saw my collection of romance books,” I say suddenly.

“That’s the part you’re focusing on?” he chuckles. “Not the part about me watching you in the shower?”

My face goes hot. The shower thing is violating and arousing in equal measure, but somehow the books feel more personal. Like he saw a secret part of me.

I tore through those paperbacks from the used bookstore. Five books for three pounds, and I’d devour them all, desperate for happy endings and spicy scenes when the real thing felt impossible.

“They were my only escape,” I admit, surprising myself with honesty. “And the only romance in my life at that time.”

“Why did you sleep with me that night?”

I don’t know how to answer that; whatever I say will reveal too much. Like how our connection was pure fire or how he made me feel like I mattered.

“It was Lukas I let in, not you,” I say, hoping to shut this down. I clear my throat. “You must be tired after being away this week.”

Heat flickers in his eyes. “I’m not interested in going to bed,” he says, “but I could be convinced if you’ll join me.” He leans closer, voice dropping low. “If I recall, I gave you one week to sleep in Kin’s room with him… Your time’s up, angel moy. It’s time to sleep with your husband.”

God, it’s tempting. So fucking tempting. But it’s already impossible to resist him, and the thought of waking up in his arms is more dangerous than anything outside these walls.

“I—I can’t. Kin still has nightmares.”

Untrue. But it’s the only defense I have.

Pavel stands, and before I can react, he’s kneeling beside my lounger, one hand braced on either side of my hips, caging me in. The position puts his face level with mine, close enough that I can see the flecks of silver in his eyes.

His hand comes up to cup the side of my neck, thumb stroking along my pulse point. “Your pulse is racing,” he murmurs. “And you’re looking at me like you want me to eat your pussy.”

Because I do.

He leans closer, his lips barely grazing my jaw. “I could slide my hand between your thighs right now and find you wet for me, couldn’t I?”

My breathing goes shallow, and I grip the arms of the lounger to keep from turning and pulling him down to me.