Page 37

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

NASH

“How did that go?” I mutter to Vale as she flops into her chair beside me.

I heard the shouts and raised voices from two floors above.

“Well,” she sighs. “I’m not fired, we’re busted, and my sister is a bestseller. Jace saw on his phone how her NFL Beau is back in town and reading her book in public. It’s going viral and breaking her heart. That’s one drama. The second is…” she leans closer, “your brothers just threw us under the bus.”

I chuckle. “Of course they did.”

“But Nash,” she whispers, “they all know about us now, so that means?—”

“ That means they know I’m their accountant, you’re my daughter’s best friend, but we’re adults in love. That’s all they’ll ever know.”

“But they weren’t convinced,” she stresses. “All the sex Stacey and her husbands have had on that swing never ripped it from the ceiling. They don’t believe it was just me and you.”

“It wasn’t.” I feel my pulse rise again. “It was me, you, and my beast because that’s who I am, watching someone else touch you.”

We left the swing on the floor, knowing Vale would explain it in the morning, but I wanted her to myself after the test.

I booked us a suite at The Mercier, where I made us take a shower, watching the rivulets of my brothers’ touch wash away. Then, I wanted to soak in the tub and hold her. I wanted to lie on the bed and eat popcorn with her head on my chest while I made her watch the classic Married To The Mob as a joke—sort of. I wanted Vale under the bed sheets and only mine to love and claim again. The sounds she makes coming on my cock are the only thing that satisfy me.

It took a while to settle the beast inside me, especially when I know he’ll only return when she’s initiated soon.

Speaking of…

Jace and Grant bound downstairs. They give us an amused “Have fun with that” nod while Jace takes his post by the door, and Grant excuses himself.

He says he’s going for sushi, aka—another raw beating of our captive.

We still don’t know where Turner’s base is, but it must be in a remote location where prying eyes won’t ask questions, and those places are rare in the South. If we can find Turner soon, we can scoop up his crew and their phones and laptops with contact names for his buyers.

But the guy we caught yesterday is a tough nut to crack—literally. We’re still working on him while I focus on the desktop screen, making sure the second quarter reconciles for the third time as Stacey and her husbands, Ford and Mateo, appear downstairs.

Stacey stands in the parlor, studying me as I sit beside Vale at her desk. She smiles warmly, as if I have her approval, while she rubs her swelling baby bump. “Mr. Allen,” she coos, “do take your time with that audit. It appears my staff appreciates your expertise.”

Vale blushes, and if I could, I would, too, while Mateo winks at me, but Ford glares. He didn’t appreciate having to patch the plaster ceiling.

“Apologies.” I raise my palms. “Seems I got carried away. I’ll pay whatever price you think is fair.”

Stacey shrugs. “Just make a generous donation to the women’s shelter, and all is forgiven.”

“And stay off our swing,” Ford seethes.

Vale twirls her braid. “But it’s an adult playground we can’t resist.”

Ford opens his mouth to bark something back, but Blair steals all the oxygen from the room. She shuffles her slippered feet, trudging down the stairs before flopping into her chair with a loud huff. “Beau’s here … and he’s ghosting me.”

The entire afternoon, Blair pouts about it, and we avoid her. Finally, I get my work reconciled before I gently rub Vale’s thigh under the desk.

“Tonight,” I murmur, “let’s go shopping.”

“For what?” she whispers. “We’ve got room service and sex toys in a luxurious Mercier suite. What else could we need?”

Yes, I booked the suite for as long as it takes to initiate Vale. Even though Sire and Wren welcome us at their place, I want a place that’s our own.

I take her hand. “Let’s shop for our home.”

I spoil her with quarterpounders with cheese, and Dr. Peppers before I drive her past beach homes for sale on Sullivan’s Island.

After a proud burp, she asks, “But what about your Isle of Palms house?”

“It’s burned. Besides, I want to start over. I want a place that’s ours.”

“Can we get something that screams ‘gothic chic meets air-conditioning’?”

I laugh, parking in front of a property my agent told me about. “Gothic chic means dangerous streets. I can’t secure a home in the historic district. Too many eyes are there. But out here,” I point to the house nestled behind groves of palms and oaks, “I can give you security, a library, a nursery, a pool, and air conditioning.”

She tilts her head, considering the home. “Can we paint it black?”

“Can you sell your soul to the devil to pay the electric bill if we do?”

“I’ve already sold you my pussy.” She turns to me, winking. “Now you want my soul?”

I lean over the console, yanking her greasy, sassy lips into a kiss. “You can paint the interior black. Even Wednesday’s room.”

She beams. “Gomez’s, too?”

“ Vaallee …” Should I seethe or smile? “Woman, I give you an inch, and you take a million miles.”

“No, my king.” She hikes her black miniskirt to crawl over the console and straddle me. It’s awkward and cute. I turn off the engine, kill the headlights, and let her unzip my tenting pants as she pulls her white cotton panties aside, arguing, “You give me these thick eight inches and make me moan for a million years.”

And I do.

We fuck on the side of the road in this SUV parked on an exclusive street of multi-million dollar beach homes while all I feel with Vale is overwhelmed by how there’s no one else I want this dream with.

No one.

I was lying to myself all these years, saying the reason I never loved or married was because my life was too dangerous.

That’s not true.

Years ago, I gave my heart to Vale, then resigned myself to die alone. That’s why I never loved or married.

But now, the forbidden love of my life gives me life. She’s right here, taking everything that belongs to her because she wants our life together, too … and I’ll crack any skull to make it happen.

Sisterly love. I wouldn’t know anything about it. I’ve been surrounded by six brothers most of my life.

But now I’m watching it, front row and center. Pass the popcorn.

“Beau made you a bestseller,” Vale yells, frustrated with Blair, “but he didn’t show up today. He hasn’t called or texted or dropped into your DMs, and I swear to god, if you sigh like a pining romance heroine about it one more time, I’m cramming an alien cock sheath down your throat.”

I’m leaning back in my chair, admiring these two. They’re like identical black jaguars in a catfight of clawing truths.

“Go suck a bag of daddy dicks,” Blair half laughs, half snarls at Vale, and I confess that makes my daddy dick stir because that’s precisely what Vale did last night in the shower after our house shopping.

“Proudly!” Vale shouts back, “I suck dick almost every night.”

See?

Guilty.

“And so did you!” She keeps pushing Blair. “Where is my shameless sister? The one no man could break? Since when do you crumble for cock?”

“You got as much room to talk as a cheap Vegas honeymoon hotel,” Blair snaps.

Vale narrows her eyes. Uh-oh. “At least I don’t have a dead fish city between my thighs.”

“No, you got a hot Daddy treating your puss like it’s his Disneyland.” Yep, that did it . She points at me. “How many times have you ridden Mr. Allen’s Space Mountain?”

While I appreciate the reference to my galactically entertaining girth, I’m concerned one of these sisterly brawls could break out in front of Alena.

Her wedding is in a few weeks. Sometime before, I’m supposed to initiate Vale. Of course, she wants it done tomorrow, but Axel wants everyone there, and I don’t. It’s too risky as I watch in disbelief when their fight turns into Vale and Jace convincing Blair to get over Beau Bronson and go to the club tonight—the sex club where Turner’s men last spotted us.

“What the fuck are you thinking?” An hour later, I confront Vale in the bathroom at Delta’s. Hissing low, I demand, “You clear your plans with me, and this one isn’t happening.”

She gives me a PhD-worthy eye roll. “Can we not take a tour through Dickhead town right now? I have a twin in crisis, and I’m going to help her.”

“You have your little neck on the line, too.” I snarl, grabbing it. “Remember that whole not-mafia-mafia thing? It doesn’t stop because you want a girls’ night out.”

“If you want to choke me,” she hisses, “you better be fucking me hard while you do it. Otherwise, slow your Bratva roll.”

I relax my grip. “Poison, this is dangerous—me and you, going back to the club. We haven’t prepped security for it,” I nuzzle my forehead to hers, “and I won’t lose you. Ever .”

“Your mom has her club on lock twenty-four-seven. We’ll be safe there.”

Technically, she’s right, but my instincts tell me it’s the wrong call.

“We’ll go separately,” she urges. “You can watch from the VIP room, post extra security on the exit, and when I leave, if one of Turner’s men tries to follow me… Boom! You got him dead on target.”

I wince. “Bad metaphor.”

“You know what I mean.” She caresses my hand on her neck. “I’m not afraid. You and Nadine would never let anything happen to me.” Her mouth seeks mine. “Okay?”

“You can’t bribe me with these lips.” I nip her plush bottom one, totally fucking lying. Her kiss could convince me to name our son Lurch.

Don’t tell her.

So, Blair drives Vale, and Grant rides with Jace to the club. Of course, Grant doesn’t miss a chance to go. His queen awaits him there.

I follow the convoy of Blair’s car and Jace’s truck, not loving how, for miles, all I can see is Vale jerking off Jace and making him come all over her tits at our kinky daddy taboo. Nirvana’s “Come As You Are” streaming through my speakers doesn’t help.

They park and enter through the front while I drive around back and use the fire escape stairwell to enter the second floor. We rarely use this door to one of Nadine’s private residences.

But she’s not here. I find her in the office on the third floor, gazing down over her erotic dominion.

“Let me guess,” she says, “the kittens want to play, and there’s nothing the big, bad wolf can do about it.”

“I told her I’d allow it.”

“Uh-huh.” She turns to me standing beside her, her blue eyes dancing with delight. “Son, you look very handsome pussy-whipped. I’m so proud.”

I fight the urge to snarl. Instead, I give her a guilty grin. Nadine’s never seen me in love. Well, finally, having the love I’ve always wanted. I think it’s all she wants for her sons: love and family.

Sipping a whisky she serves me, I note Blair sulking to Jace at the bar. Those two are best friends.

I must admit Vale’s right; Jace is the perfect brother for us. He’s a skull crusher with the softest heart. I’ve never seen him with someone else unless it’s a test or an initiation, and it made me doubt during Vale’s test if he could perform as her second king. Once.

Now, I’m sure he can because I damn well know the other brothers are too beastial like me. No way I’d let one claim Vale, too.

I watch her talking with Silas and Eily Van de May at the bar below. They’re her loyal customers and friends.

Then I spot Grant and Delphine, with two of her friends, going at it again.

How Grant wound up with a French queen whose kink is the French sex—fellatio—and why she loves giving it with her friends, too? I don’t know. But she’s perfect for him, and I’m not jealous.

I’m a one-woman kind of man.

Scratch that: I’m Vale’s man. Always have been.

Yes, I get off at an orgy. Who doesn’t?

Vale told me it’s scientifically proven. Scientists have wired people’s genitals to monitors, and even though their subjects insisted they didn’t get aroused watching sex, the blood flow to their happy zones revealed otherwise.

No, you can’t wire my dick for such an experiment, but yep, it proves we’re animals. Maybe it’s a survival thing, like mating season for all; it keeps us alive.

God knows I feel like an animal during our tests and initiations. So, why deny it? Why be ashamed of it? It’s natural.

It’s the sharing part that feels unnatural to me, but clearly, not to my brothers.

Though Grant and Delphine take it to the next level, and I’m not judging. I have my kinks, too. Clearly, because Vale’s bikinis aren’t safe around me.

“Lawd, that boy,” but Nadine huffs, turning away from Grant’s spectacle. “I’m gonna smack him into next week. Why must he have his little pecker licked daily?”

I snort. Little pecker. Hardly.

“His queen sure likes sharing it,” I observe, humor filling my voice.

“His queen barely escaped with her life from a VIP Paris nightclub. She was part of a sex scandal that blew up the tabloids.” Nadine pours herself a shot. “Delphine knows the darkest secrets of some of Europe’s most powerful men. She could destroy them, so she hides here to stay alive. Lucky for my son, she hides in his sheets, too. I swear they’re wilder than an acre of snakes for each other; they lose their damn minds.”

I watch Vale innocently chatting with her friends while guilt suddenly crushes my chest.

Have we lost our minds, too? Have Vale and I fallen so deeply in love, we’re fooling ourselves?

Yes, we’ve gotten used to being hunted. We’re using it to our advantage. This feud with Turner will end one day soon, but then…

What about Alena? Even if she approves of my love for Vale, I know one day Alena will find out what I did so that she would be loved, too. Vale will find out, as well.

I’m no fool. Secrets can’t stay hidden forever. I’ll have to tell Vale, and she’ll have to understand; love left me no choice.

“My son,” Nadine reads my silence, “when will you tell her?”

She’s not asking about Alena.

“Before her initiation. I should tell her and?—”

“No.” The Queen insists, “We made the vow over my second wedding ring in this room, and it won’t be broken. Alena will be my family and have the wedding she deserves. She will be married and protected forever … then we tell them.”

In the past, a queen wore two rings: one from her first husband on her right wedding finger, according to Russian Orthodox tradition, and the other from her second husband on her left.

Now, The Queen demands we blend in. We follow local traditions. Wives wear their first husband’s ring on their left wedding finger while wearing a piercing that proudly marks them as our queen, too.

Wren and Delphine chose Monroe piercings.

No, the irony that Vale Monroe will be my queen isn’t lost on me.

Our other queen? He chose something less visible but equally proud, and we understand. He can’t be out in some circles.

I’m trapped in my dream of putting a black diamond on Vale’s finger and my nightmare of losing her when she knows the whole truth.

It leaves me watching the floor below, feeling like a hero and villain to the woman I love.

Suddenly, Jace confronts a man who’s harassing Blair. He towers over him before snapping his fingers, siccing Nadine’s security on him before Jace escorts Blair safely outside.

That leaves Grant and Vale in the club, and I shake my head.

Grant’s lost in triple blowjob heaven.

He doesn’t know Vale’s standing alone at the bar. He doesn’t see her glance up, searching behind the glass where I’m standing, as she smirks with pride before … “Goddamnit, poison!”

She disobeys me.

Proudly, Vale swishes her ass toward the door. She’s supposed to tell Grant she’s leaving but doesn’t. Alone, she lures a man dressed in navy pants and a plaid button-up shirt to follow her outside. But I clock it—the knife he’s hiding cupped in the palm of his hand.

“She’s on the move,” I bark at Nadine, who joins me at the glass, reaching for her radio.

“Grab that preppy bastard,” she commands her security, “and secure her. I want him in the bunker, and I want her to see this.”