Page 37 of Prince of Control (Bratva Heirs #1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lara

I wake in my childhood bedroom with my head resting on Baron’s shoulder.

We flew into Moscow last night–or maybe it was this morning.

I have no idea how long I slept. I just know that everytime I woke with adrenaline running through my system, Baron’s arms tightened around me, and he murmured softly into my ear until I relaxed and fell back to sleep.

He murmured that it was over. That I was safe.

That he’d never let anything happen to me.

You’re mine, Lara Baranov, and I won’t let anyone touch you, was the last thing he murmured a few hours ago.

He’s still asleep, which is unusual for him.

I guess we both needed the rest. I ease the blankets back to slip out of bed and gasp when I see the state of Baron’s body.

He’s in his boxer shorts–we were way too wiped out when we arrived for any sexy times–and his ribs are covered in black, blue, and green bruises.

Gospodi , he probably has some cracked or broken ribs. And this was the state he was in when he came to rescue me! The word hero doesn’t fully express the magnitude of what Baron is. He’s a knight. No, a prince. My prince.

I shower and dress in clothes that were still in my drawers from the last time I visited. Then I head to the living room to find my mom. I saw her when we came in, but I was delirious then. I need another hug.

My father owns three different properties in Russia. Our home in Moscow is an enormous penthouse with gleaming hardwood floors covered in plush rugs. The ceilings are vaulted, and the penthouse is filled with large windows and skylights because my mother likes bright spaces.

I find her in her clay studio, but she’s not at the pottery wheel.

She’s standing looking out the full length window holding a cup of tea between her two hands.

It’s in a mug she made, and it smells like mint.

My father stands behind her, his tattooed arms wrapped around her from behind. Her head rests back against his chest.

“Lara, lyubimaya.” My mom’s face lights up when she sees me, and she sets down her mug of tea and spreads her arms wide.

“Mama. Papa.” I choke up. Even though my kidnapping wasn’t long, it still feels like a miracle to be home back with the people I love.

My parents sandwich me in a tight hug, and I soak in their love. The reason I became a strong, independent woman going to school in another country was because I knew they always had my back.

“I’m mad at you,” I tell my dad, but my voice is teary.

“I have…regrets.” My dad’s voice is gruff, as always.

“You should have told me that Brash was the danger, not Baron. I never would’ve left with him.”

“Yes, he should’ve told you,” my mom says.

I draw a breath to continue to berate him, but my husband walks in, torso bare, hair tousled, wearing the same cargo pants he was in when we arrived. He stops in the doorway, looking uncertain.

That’s when I realize it doesn’t matter.

My dad did what he thought he had to do to keep me safe.

I could argue up and down that he should have made other choices, but if he had…

I wouldn’t have this gorgeous man in my life right now.

If I’d thought he was just a nice guy doing me a favor, I might have insisted on separate bedrooms, knowing he’d honor that.

I wouldn’t have fallen head over heels in love with the guy I thought was the enemy.

I wouldn’t be madly in love with my sexy prince.

So, I guess I have no regrets. And if I don’t have regrets, I can’t very well blame my dad.

“We’re getting married,” I announce.

My parents release me from the sandwich hug, and my mom claps her hands in delight. “You and Benjamin? Aren’t you already married? Oh, I’m so happy!” She throws her arms around me again. “I always wanted him for you, lyubimaya. You were the best of friends when you were toddlers.”

Huh. I imagine my mom planning our marriage from the sandbox.

I can’t help but wonder if her wish for me as a toddler found its way into the ether, pulling on quantum entanglements to years later manifest this way—with my father ordering me to marry him to keep me safe, and Baron feeling the pull of destiny the moment he met me.

Meanwhile I was oblivious to all the magic conspiring around me until it was nearly too late.

My mom turns and gathers Baron up in a hug, too.

“Be careful, I think his ribs are broken,” I warn.

“I see that,” my mom says. “We can get them Xrayed right away.”

“Not necessary,” Baron grunts.

My dad clasps Baron’s palm in a wordless, somber handshake. I take it he approves.

I shouldn’t care–especially not after the machinations my dad made with my marriage, but I’m happy. My parents support my choice of a husband.

Still holding Baron’s hand, my dad claps his other hand on Baron’s shoulder. “Benjamin.” It’s a bratva bro moment. There’s tremendous weight in my father’s tone.

Baron meets his eye, waiting. Steady. My father has intimidated every guy I’ve dated, but that will never be possible with Baron.

“ Spasibo, moy brat.” Thank you, my brother.

Baron bows his head. “My honor.”

My mom beams up at him. “Now, what is this about you getting married?”

My dad releases Baron, and I slide under the protection of Baron’s arm, nesting myself against his side. “Baron wants a real wedding.” I look up at him, and he kisses the top of my head. “With a willing bride.”

My mom’s eyes dance in the mischievous way she has. “And now you’re willing?”

“I am.”

“I’m so happy. For both of you. I didn’t like that you thought he was your enemy when he was the one trying to help you, but your father thought it was safest that way.” She frowns up at my dad.

My dad remains silent.

“But it all worked out in the end,” my mom waxes on. “Love is messy. It’s uncomfortable. It brings up our deepest needs and our worst fears. But in the end it heals us.”

“Wow. You should write that down for the wedding toast.” I laugh. “Which reminds me. You’re going to tell me about how you two fell in love.” I point between her and my dad.

“ Nyet ,” my dad says.

“She can handle it,” my mom says. “After what she’s just been through, she will understand how circumstances can turn even the worst enemies into lovers.” She sends Baron an impish look. “Your parents’ marriage began as a kidnapping, too.”

Baron is usually good at not showing any reaction, but I can feel his body go still as he absorbs that.

“I can’t wait to call Lucy. We can plan the wedding together. Are you thinking it will be in Chicago?”

“Da,” my father answers even though the question wasn’t for him. “I want you to move back to Chicago. Things may be too hot here after what happened in Turkey.”

My mom nods.

“I’m sorry.” I hear the weight of responsibility in Baron’s voice, and I want to erase it. “I tried to avoid a war, but…he had to die.”

“He did,” my father says simply. “And we cleaned up. Anatoli Rostov will never know for sure who did it. So I can’t run, or it will make it obvious, but I need Kat to be safe, and she’ll be safe at the Kremlin with your father.”

“The Kremlin?” I ask blankly.

“That was the name the neighbors gave our building in Chicago,” Baron explains. “Because so many Russians lived in it.”

“Ah. Kind of how the students at Thornecroft call Baranov house, the Gulag.”

“Exactly.” I see the twitch of a smile on Baron’s face, and his eyes heat, like he’s planning another trip to the dungeon with me.

My nipples get hard.

“Perfect!” My mom claps her hands together. “I get to go plan a wedding. You two will go back to the Gulag.” She looks up at my dad. “I won’t like to be away from you, though,” she says softly.

Regret and longing wash over his face, and I see that deep, always passionate love the two share.

The kind of love I found.

With the man I trust with my life.

And my heart.

And my soul.