Page 7 of Scarlet Sins (Yegorov Bratva #2)

Chapter Six

DEMYAN

Irritation spreads through me. It’s early and I know Alina or Olga have my wake at the crack of dawn demon son up and occupied.

“What is it?”

I push out of bed, pausing to take Erin’s hand. “Not Sasha.”

A small smile breaks out. “I know that. She asked for you, not us. Besides, Sasha’s got a pair of lungs on him when he wants to throw a tantrum.”

“This is going to be some idiotic business thing. It happens.” I shrug, kissing her hand. “It’ll be boring.”

“You live for your business.” She says this like my business is regular, and not one soaked in blood and violence.

But hopefully, her acceptance shows this is the safest place for her to be. Here, with me. Not that I’m letting her go anywhere. Her or our son.

“I live for you and Sasha.”

She blushes and rolls her eyes. “I’ll get dressed.”

“Stay up here with Sasha. It’s going to be boring.”

“What if it’s news about Ilya? ”

I get up and pick out a suit, dressing quickly. “Maybe it’ll be news on the fucker who shot him. I’ll let you know.”

When I’m dressed and ready, I head out the door, not wanting to leave her, not so soon after getting her back.

I’d planned a morning of slow sex, to make up for the hard and fast she’d demanded the night before.

Even now as I check in on Sasha, who’s playing happily with Olga, Erin’s sweet words when she’d been mostly asleep this morning, asking for me, come back to tease my senses.

But I shove them away. I do have a meeting later today, an important one, so maybe they decided to push it up.

Or there’s trouble that has popped up.

It always does.

When I get down to the foyer, Magda’s face is set as she has a tray of coffee in her hands. “Sir,” she says.

My heart sinks.

Whoever it is, she doesn’t like them and Magda usually doesn’t show that on her face to such a degree.

I follow her into the living room and I go still.

Sergio.

And fucking Stefina with her too big hair and tight clothes. Both of them on my sofa. One looking like he’s off to the fucking opera, the other like she’s ready for a nightclub, already bored by her date and scrolling her phone for another. Fuck.

Magda presses a coffee into my hand first and then leaves the tray on the coffee table. She’s about to leave when I catch her eye and she stops, turns, and serves them.

As she does, I take the moment to fucking breathe.

I expected a report on some of those who make payments always on the edge of late, or trouble with the deal we have with a bratva outfit in Sheepshead Bay out in Brooklyn, New York.

This is worse .

Because while I expected getting out of this wouldn’t be easy, I thought the bastard would give me longer than than twenty-fours after the rescue.

But here he is, with his now bleached-blonde daughter.

Last time her hair was dark, now it’s all curls piled high and teased or whatever the fuck women do.

She’s pretty enough, maybe even beautiful if you like her kind of curated beauty.

The makeup, the clothes, the stacked mile-high shoes, a handbag, that I’m guessing costs the same amount as a small car.

I don’t know enough about the designers and who’s who, but I know money when it’s put in front of me.

But this is over the top and I’m finding my tastes are simple, natural, small and curvy.

Not… this.

She’s a facsimile of the women I’d go to events with, women I’d fuck. But what she’s missing is the true class aspect.

That, or I just don’t like her.

And from the cool expression in her eyes, I’m guessing I’m not her number one choice.

That should make me feel mollified or even empathetic to her. I’m not either one. Stefina will milk this, go with Daddy’s plan. Stefina likes money, prestige, the highlife. Marry me and she thinks she can fuck whoever she wants.

And while she might not have feelings for me, her gaze lingers on my face and drops to my crotch. I get the impression she’d take a ride.

Fuck.

And then there’s Sergio. Coffee now served, he sits back, a triumphant smile on his face.

When Magda hands another cup to Stefina, I toy with a pay raise for her, just because she deliberately took her time in serving them, allowing me to gather myself .

I offer an easy smile and wait for Magda to leave.

It’s a skin-deep smile. Because I’m fucking furious.

Sergio sighs. “Good coffee.”

“Cut to the chase. It’s early, I’ve got a busy day. We have an appointment?—”

“That won’t do, Demyan,” he says, waving a hand in the air. “Time is of the essence.”

My gaze drifts to Stefina, who’s studying the room now, eyeing up various expensive pieces. “The place has good bones,” she says. “After I modernize it, this place will suit me just fine.”

I almost snap a threat at her, but I’ m not sure it’s meant as bait. I think she’s just that tasteless.

“I like my things as they are,” I say evenly.

She giggles, but that coolness remains. “You’re like Daddy. Stuck in the past.”

“Quiet,” Sergio says. “The men are talking.”

She closes her mouth, which I wanted. But perversely, it irritates me he treated her like that.

Christ, I want this over.

“You had a reason for coming by unannounced.”

“I think we’re long past formalities, Demyan.” Sergio smiles again. “After all, we’re merging.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” I mutter. Then I notice the thick book sticking out of Stefina’s large leather tote, next to her handbag on the rug near her feet.

I run a hand down my face and take a sip of coffee.

“Sit,” Sergio says, “we have a morning ahead of us.”

“I’d rather stand and my morning’s booked up.”

“Not anymore.” Sergio’s smile broadens. “We’ve come over to fine-tune the wedding arrangements.”

Behind me, there’s an audible gasp and the bottom falls from my world. I spin. Erin stands there, hurt all over her face, a hand to her mouth like she’s been slapped and it only makes her bruises stand out more and guilt licks high inside me.

Fuck. This is not how I wanted her to find out that things aren’t as sorted out as I might have led her to think.

Her eyes find mine as Pavel appears, a frown on his face, subtle, but there. He doesn’t touch her but moves close.

I shift my gaze back to Erin.

“Demyan?”

Her broken whisper tears into me and I suck in a slow breath.

“I’ll explain later,” I mutter, keeping my voice low, and then I nod at Pavel, who slips an arm around her.

For a moment she resists. But she looks past me to where Sergio and Stefina sit, and she just looks away from me and turns to Pavel, letting him lead her out of the room.

“Demyan?” Sergio says. “We really need to get this underway.”

I turn back to Sergio. “Never come to my house without my permission.”

Sergio’s smug little smile deepens as his eyes twinkle. “Is that any way to speak to your future father-in-law?” He switches to Russian. “We’re family, are we not?”

“ Nyet . Not yet.” I stick to English. “And until that moment, you ask before you turn up. I won’t be waylaid, and I won’t have my very busy day disrupted.”

Stefina’s gaze is on the door. “Very busy.”

“Our arrangement, Sergio, is not an invitation to poke into my holdings or my life. Just like I won’t do to you.

This and all the accompanying conversations will happen at a time I see fit.

” I stalk to the mantle over the fireplace and set my cup down.

Then I turn back. “As I said, I’m busy. I’ll be in touch. ”

And I gesture to the door as Pavel reappears. Alone.

“We have to discuss the wedding!” Stefina says .

I ignore her and wait until they gather their things and stand and Pavel and I escort them to the foyer.

Stefina glares at me like I forced her to suck a barrel of lemons, but I turn to Sergio. “My lawyer will be in touch.”

Anger flashes. “If you think?—”

“There are always legal matters.” Prenups and ways to get out of this fucking mess, but I keep that to myself. “I’ll be in touch.”

He nods, but doesn’t move as he stares at me. Then he takes one step toward me. “You have twenty-four hours to reach out.”

All I do is cross to the front door and open it, leaving them no choice but to walk through it of their own accord.

Sergio knows me well enough to know I’ll throw them both out and protocol be damned. And that kind of thing has a way of leaking, circulating, creating damaging whispers that he’ll allow such humiliations. So he steps on to the porch, along with his daughter.

“This wedding, Demyan, if it doesn’t start progressing soon, I’ll be forced to take matters into my own hands.”

Which will hurt me right back.

“Twenty-four hours,” he says again.

“I’m busy but I’m a man of my word.” And I slam the door in their faces.

I bite down on a string of curses and return to the living room. Marrying Stefina’s the last thing I want to do, but a promise is a promise.

I can’t risk being labeled as a bratva pakhan who fails to keep his word. Because if I don’t, no one will trust me again.

I’m no fan of Stefina, and she’s no fan of me, but I’m aware if there was no Erin or Sasha in my life, then I could perhaps manipulate it happily into something that serves me well.

But I do have them .

“Fuck,” I mutter.

If I’m going to get out of this mess, I need to be smart, bide my time, and find a legitimate out. Sergio is pushing for this because he needs my power. And his lack of an outright ask, along with trying to work a different sort of deal, says there’s dirt to be dug up.

There will be, I can feel it. There’s always dirt. But I hope it’s enough to use to negate this arrangement.

“Sir?”

I don’t turn to face Pavel. This is a problem of my own making. But I was desperate, back to the wall, and I’d do it all over again to save my family.

Now I just have to be coolheaded, smart. I turn. “How good are your connections?”

He shrugs. “Good enough. They’re not Ilya level, but they’re good.”

“When he’s stable, talk to him, but in the meantime, use all you have. I need all the dirt on Sergio. Public and private.” Then I pause. “And on Stefina.”

“The daughter? She’s not a player.” He frowns.

“She’s his daughter, she’s not outside our world, so yes, her, too. Anything at all. No rock unturned.”

“Yes, sir.”

As he takes his leave, I head upstairs to find Erin.

She’s not in her room, but the happy squeal of “Mama!” tells me exactly where she is.

Sasha’s trying to get his mangy stuffed goat from her and enjoying himself. Then he sees me.

“Dino! Mama stole my goat.”

My heart squeezes. I think it’s his way of telling me to help him. But then he squeals again as she teases him with it. “I think Mama’s in control, Sasha.”

In the corner, Olga smiles at the boy, then she looks at me and stands .

Erin refuses to turn.

“Olga will play with you while I talk to Mama, Sasha.”

Erin doesn’t turn, and it takes real effort for me to hold on to my temper. Unfair, perhaps, but how the fuck are we going to get anywhere if she goes cold?

Olga flushes like this is the last place she wants to be and she picks Sasha up. “Breakfast?”

He looks at her, at me, then at Erin, and finally at Olga. “Chocklit?”

I almost laugh at his business prowess. Because I can see he’s ready to unleash a tantrum if he doesn’t get his way.

“ Eto moy mal’chik,” I say, making Olga bite down on a smile.

And Erin turns angrily to me, getting up as Olga takes that moment to bring the boy toward me.

“We’ll get a hot chocolate,” she says.

His face scrunches in suspicion as they pass. “Pop-tart!”

Erin tries to pass me, too.

I take her arm. “Let me go.”

“No.”

“Speak English when I’m here?—”

“I just said that’s my boy, nothing else. I’ll teach you Russian if you want.”

She tries to shake me off.

“What? While you play husband to someone else?”

I narrow my eyes. “The only reason I found you was because Sergio gave up Niko’s location.”

“So you marry her?”

She pulls free and takes off to the bedroom. I follow and close the door. We stare at each other.

“He asked for this fucking marriage in return, and I agreed. I wasn’t going to risk you being hurt, Erin. Or worse. I promise I’ll fix this, but right now, I have to go along with it. I don’t have any other choice. There are powerful territories and people in play. ”

Her lips press together. “I’m not from your world, Demyan. I… I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

She shakes her head.

“Can’t what, Erin?”

“I can’t do this. I appreciate that you saved me and Sasha. I’ll be forever in your debt for that. But watching you marry someone else is too much. I can’t.”

“You think I want to marry someone else?” I stalk up to her, and she stumbles back until she hits the wall. I don’t stop until I’m almost flush against her. “Do you really fucking think that?”

“I heard you.”

I close that gap. Then I cup her jaw, using my thump to tip her face to me. “Erin. Lyubimaya .”

I kiss her, hold her there, and kiss her deep.

She lets me.

Her mouth is soft and wet and pliable. And a vibration runs through her as I kiss her, gathering her close, flush against me as I ravish her mouth, trying to let her feel what she is to me, that she’s become my world, her and Sasha both.

She resists, because it’s Erin. She’s tough and determined and she tries to hold out despite herself, despite the way she half melts into me.

But finally, she breaks. She opens for me, her tongue touching mine, and then she kisses me back.

The kiss deepens and all the frustrations and anger morph into a dark passion and it threatens to drag us down until we fuck all the angst out of each other.

Letting go of her jaw, I stroke my hand down over her, pushing her dress up, and running my fingers over her panties that are wet now, clinging to her, and she moans. I push a finger beneath the material so I can touch her, flesh on flesh, and her moan deepens, and she starts to move her hips.

I slowly enter her as I kiss a path from her mouth to her throat and then to her ear, thrusting in a slow and steady beat that makes her crazy.

“You’re mine and no one else’s, you get that, right? You’re mine.”

She shudders, her pussy clenching down on me.

“And you’ll never be done with me, Erin, never.”

“Do you know how hypocritical that sounds, considering you’re going to marry another woman?”

She twists free, shoving my hand from her and as much as I don’t want to stop, as much as I want to make her come and come until I’ve broken, that will, until she knows I speak the truth, I stop.

I step back and clench my teeth as she goes to push past me. I might stop touching her intimately, but I’m not about to let her run off.

I hold her there. “Demyan.”

“No, Erin, I’m not done.”

She looks at me her face a mask, but it doesn’t hide the hurt. “What?”

“You’re the only woman I’m fucking marrying. Not Stefina, not anyone else. You. I just need time to figure this mess out.”