Page 29 of Scarlet Promise (Yegorov Bratva #4)

Chapter Twenty-Three

ILYA

That afternoon, Albert’s excitement announces Alina’s return.

She bursts into my study like sunshine, brightening everything, brightening me.

Though I only saw her earlier, my heart still lurches at her pretty mouth and big eyes, a soft summer blue ringed with gold. Her hair swings from her ponytail, and her jeans and pretty floral top flatter but also act as a barrier to my wicked thoughts and hands.

Still…jeans would never stop me. Not even a chastity belt could slow my plans if I wanted my way with her.

I like a challenge.

Alina’s the most delicious challenge I’ve ever met. The prizes I receive when I beat those challenges could sustain me for life.

If things had gone differently…

I’m not going to allow myself to feel jealousy for a dead man, one I liked and respected. I’m not going to ever be glad about what happened. My only source of relief is that Alina survived.

I love her enough that if I could bring him back to save her even a moment’s pain, I would.

But I’m no god. Not even close.

Since the past happened, I’m glad of one thing: she looked at me and saw the possibilities.

Alina looked at me and opened herself up.

For her, I’ll do what I can to live up to the promises I’ve made, to the promises the dead made, and give her happiness, love, and a life worth living.

And a baby.

I almost start to shake.

We’ve made a baby.

“Albert,” she whispers, joy sparking off her as the little dog jumps all over her and tries to lick her face. “You’re the best! Did you have fun with Daddy?”

I go still at that.

Daddy.

She doesn’t look at me as she continues to shower praise on Albert.

“I bet you did. And I bet you were good for him. You’re so shiny and soft,” she says. “Svetlana is feeding you right.”

Albert barks.

“Is she giving you homemade food?”

Albert barks again.

My Alina laughs. “So spoiled, aren’t you?”

Albert barks a third time.

“I know she cooks him meals,” I say. “None of that dog food for him. Snacks are fine.”

Alina looks up at me. “He deserves it.”

“So do you,” I say.

She blushes and looks at Albert.

“Are you staying another night?” I ask as she gives kisses and hugs to the dog, and I try not to be jealous.

It’s hard, though. I wouldn’t mind trading places with him for a moment.

But I remind myself that Albert deserves all the love and attention he gets, so I let it go.

“What are you smiling about?” she asks, looking over at me as I get up from behind my desk and head toward her.

I grin. “My jealousy over Albert.”

“You can’t be jealous of him. You want the same loving?”

“And more.”

Alina laughs. “You’re greedy.”

I draw her to me as she rises and kiss her. “You’ve no idea.”

She pushes me onto the sofa, climbs on top of me, and starts to attack me with kisses.

Albert barks, clearly thinking this is a great idea, and jumps up to lick me and hit me with his wagging tail.

“Okay, okay, I’m not jealous. I feel loved.”

Alina looks me in the eye. “Good.”

Everything inside me dips and swerves.

Good.

I hold that close.

Good .

I don’t think a word’s brought me so much joy before.

Taking her hand, I kiss her fingers. “Since going out to dinner doesn’t work so well, I’m saying we order in. Somewhere fancy. Whatever you want?—”

“I can’t.” She burrows into me, tucking her head into my shoulder.

“You can. You can stay, and I’ll worship you and feed you and give you so many orgasms that you’ll understand the true meaning of boneless.”

“Stop that…” She looks up at me and playfully pushes at my chest, and Albert tries to squeeze into the space. “I can’t.”

“Can’t? There’s no such word as can’t.”

“Remember when I used to beg you to stay over, when I had to convince you it was safe…?” she asks. “When was that? Last night?”

I shrug and ruffle Albert’s fur. “What can I say? I forgot how amazing it was to wake up with you and this furball.” I lean in and whisper, “But especially you.”

She groans and unfolds herself from me, and Albert’s whine voices my own inner disappointment.

“I want to, but I can’t. I don’t want to push Demyan harder than I already am.”

“Okay,” I mutter. “I respect that.”

“I’m going to stay the night with you soon,” she promises.

I sigh, picking Albert up and holding him, and he stares lovingly up at me. “Deal, but don’t plan on sleeping when you do.”

“Boneless?” she asks.

“Boneless,” I say. “In fact, I can give you a preview…”

I don’t get that chance because she manages to be the cool head. We both know it’ll end up with her staying.

Something I’m both fine with and aware of the risks that come with it. Like Demyan’s wrath.

Demyan doesn’t scare me. I know him too well. And while I know he’s deadly, I can hold my own. Besides, it’s not going to come to death blows. If for some reason he went for it, I’d lay down my life rather than take his.

Alina would get over me more than she’d get over me killing her brother.

Not that it would come to that.

The driving force beneath all of this is love.

Friendship, brotherhood, and a mutual love for Alina.

Which is why he’d never kill me.

Alina.

He wouldn’t want her in pain, either.

So we’re stuck in this loop, him and me, of vitriol and his resentment, and the revelation that he finds me lacking when it comes to her. Of pain and not knowing how to get out of this.

Maybe before the baby, I could have walked from Alina.

If she’d let me.

But the thing is, we never expected this reciprocal love.

I am scared though.

Of making the mess worse. Of pushing Demyan too fast, too hard into a corner. Of Alina getting caught in the crosshairs of a war I don’t want, a war I’m trying to prevent.

So I don’t push her to stay as much as I’d like to.

Last night was a victory, and I’ll feed on that.

We linger at the door, but I’m glad that Svetlana hurries up with a cloth bag of containers, shattering the moment of no one willing to be the first to step away.

“For Albert.” Svetlana’s eyes narrow. “Who knows if he is cared for at the Yegorov house?”

She may as well have called Magda names and hurled insults in her perfectly polite Russian.

I bite my lip as Alina keeps a straight face. Albert, though, can smell what’s in the bag and dances in a circle beneath it, whining.

“Thank you,” Alina says. “I think he’s very excited.”

Svetlana nods, pets Albert, and then hurries off.

I look through the door where Gus and Zoltan stand talking. Gus sees me and opens the door for Alina.

I kiss her once more and send her and Albert out the door.

The moment she and Albert drive off with Gus, the bodyguard following them, my phone starts to buzz.

I pull it from my pocket and sigh, hitting answer. “What is it now, Demyan?”

His fury crackles down the phone to my ear.

I shouldn’t be surprised. That seems to be his status quo with me.

“Why the fuck did your lawyer present papers to me with a motion to sell the fucking club from Alina?”

His snarl could rip flesh from bone.

I wince. Alina’s always had ovaries of titanium, and she usually flexes her power in soft ways. This isn’t soft. This is a balls-to-the-fucking-wall kind of move. And I admire it.

I just fucking wish she warned me she wasn’t just going to talk to my lawyer about options, but that she was going to go through with it.

“This has nothing to do with me,” I say to Demyan, going into the drawing room and pouring a drink of bourbon.

I sit on the sofa, holding the drink in one hand and the phone in the other.

“Right,” he says in Russian.

“I’m not lying,” I say. “She asked for my lawyer’s details, and I gave them to her. End of story. She’s a grown-ass woman. She can do what she wants.”

“Not buying it,” Demyan spits. “And you might think it works in your favor to try to come between me and my sister, but it won’t.”

For a moment, I can’t even breathe. “I…what?”

“You might want to watch your fucking back, Ilya. That’s all I’ll say. Watch your fucking back.” He hangs up.

I stare dumbfounded at the phone, then I take a healthy swallow of the bourbon. Shit. I need to warn Alina.

I call her.

“Miss me already?” she asks, her sweet, warm voice coiling around me.

I harden myself. “Demyan called.”

She’s quiet.

“He’s on the warpath.” I clear my throat. “I was a little surprised to hear about you dropping papers to sell your portion of the club on him, especially after you told me you didn’t want to push him too hard. And you were just here. You could have told me.”

“That’s a lot of questions rolled into one,” she says.

Albert barks near her, and despite this oncoming shitstorm, I smile.

“So I’ll start with the last one.”

The easiest. “And?”

“And I didn’t say anything because I wanted to see you without that shit, Ilya. Just a moment before I had to head back to Demyan’s like I’m five with a curfew.”

“There aren’t many five-year-olds out and about on their own, curfew or not.”

She doesn’t have to say a word for me to know she’s thinking dark thoughts over that response. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do,” I say in Russian to show I’m serious about this.

Things are tenuous at best, and I’d rather have less tangled threads than more as I negotiate my way through with minimal pain to her or Demyan.

“But you said you didn’t want to rock the Demyan boat.”

“I don’t.”

“But you did the whole intent-to-sell thing?” I ask.

“When I got to your lawyer’s office, I was so angry that I wanted to sell and have the papers presented. As in, I was going to just start a bidding war, and he could join in if he wanted, but…” She sighs. “Your lawyer calmed me.”

“Calmed you by serving the papers to Demyan?” I put the drink down, holding it between my thighs.

“They weren’t served, just presented. My intent is to show him I’m serious about the shelter. The papers were an offer where he or Erin can buy the shares.”

“ Malyshka ,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I don’t really want to sell, just like I know Demyan doesn’t want to buy them. At least, he didn’t want to. Dad’s failsafe is a good one.” She sighs again, and the soft sound moves like a warm breeze through me, even though she isn’t in the room.

I lean back on the sofa, pick up the drink, and take another sip. “It might backfire.”

“Then it’s on him,” she says. “I just want him to see he’s being unreasonable. I want him to treat me like an adult. And I want him to reconsider allowing me access to my trust. It’s the better option, and we know it. All of us, him included.”

“Fuck, malyshka . Demyan’s a stubborn bastard.”

“He forgets I’m just as stubborn,” she says softly.

I chuckle. “If anyone can change his mind, it’s you.”

After we hang up, I wonder if that’s true.

Because honestly, I’m not so sure at all.