Page 25 of Sweet Deception (Irish Kings #4)

Chapter Twenty-Two

I still don’t know if I should trust Veronika Kotova, but I have a sinking suspicion that it doesn’t matter anymore. Hurting her isn’t within the realm of possibility for me. Not since…last night.

Truthfully, I should be thankful my phone rang. I should be grateful for any kind of wake-up call since Veronika’s presence is scrambling my brain like I scrambled these eggs.

She retracts her hand instantly as my ringtone obliterates the strange quiet that fell between us the second she touched me.

Rising from my seat and extracting my phone from my pocket, I dip out of the kitchen into the foyer. It’s Finn. I finally answer on the fourth ring.

“Got anything?” That’s my cousin. No preamble.

“Nothing we didn’t already know.” After Veronika closed the computer last night and then…everything else that followed… Well, the point is that we haven’t found out anything more about this modeling summit or what Troy’s really planning. I steel myself for Finn’s impatient bark at my failure.

Instead, he chuckles. “Couldn’t break your hostile captive, huh?” I’m not sure what he’s implying, but he doesn’t seem mad, so I count my blessings as he continues. “Rory was able to scrape up some additional information.”

“Oh?”

He exhales, the amusement fading from his voice. “It’s happening in five days.”

“That doesn’t give us a lot of time.” Not if the family’s planning to do something about it…

“Sure fucking doesn’t.” I hear rustling from Finn’s end, like he’s adjusting his massive frame in a chair somewhere. “I was able to find out the timeline and guest list, but I don’t like what I see.”

“Who’s going?”

“Representatives from several major crime families and a few private collectors.”

We both know how that translates. Famous people whose identities are protected by whoever’s in charge of this so-called summit.

My jaw tightens. “Troy really is running an auction house?”

“Looks that way.” Finn’s heavy fingers type away on a keyboard. “I looked up the missing person report you sent over and found the connection. The girl who was abducted crossed paths with Sophia Kovaleva’s agency. They’ve got direct ties to Red Hill, but here’s where it gets worse.”

Why does it always get worse?

“Kovaleva isn’t just running a front. She’s got deep connections to a Russian bratva through her family.”

“The Petrovs?” They’re my first guess, but I hope I’m wrong.

“Roldugin.” Finn says the name through gritted teeth, and I don’t blame him. The Roldugins are even worse than the fucking Petrovs.

Shit, shit, shit. Whoever Veronika’s friend is, she’s in more trouble than any of us could have predicted.

“If this Kovaleva woman has connections to Roldugin and Red Hill, there has to be some kind of deal on the table.” I’m just thinking out loud, but Finn gives an affirmative sort of grunt, communicating that I’m right on point.

“My guess is that she’s helping Red Hill establish international human trafficking routes.”

“You think they’re trying to branch out?

” The Red Hill Mafia has traditionally made money through kidnap rackets and drug trafficking.

If they’re working with human smugglers now, they’ve got to be trying to expand their client base and profit margins.

“So, little Troy’s building something bigger than we thought. ”

My fingers retrieve my lighter from my pocket, flicking it open as scenarios zoom through my mind.

“Much bigger,” Finn agrees. “Intel suggests the summit isn’t just an auction. It’s meant to be a demonstration. Red Hill wants to show Roldugin they can deliver high-end merchandise to clients worldwide. Kovaleva’s connections could give them protection on both sides of every border.”

“And if they succeed,” I follow his train of thought, “they’ll finally accumulate enough money and power to hit us where it hurts.”

The idea is grim.

Red Hill isn’t likely to ever forget what we did to them.

Before Finn and his wife Riley got together, she was engaged to Troy.

After she walked out on him, a huge merger between Red Hill and the Kings fell through.

Then, more drama arose when her twin sister Harper fled an arranged marriage to Finn at the last second and her father forced Riley to secretly stand in as the bride.

Somehow, Troy learned the truth about his ex walking down the aisle with another man and attempted to retaliate by showing up at Riley’s apartment and forcing his way inside. Luckily, Finn fucked him up good.

That little stunt landed Troy in the Kings’ torture unit in the basement of the Gallagher estate for a few weeks before Shane accepted a big incentive from Red Hill and released his sorry ass so he could crawl back home.

Now Troy’s back, jockeying for a position as a major power player and partnering with someone who could make him untouchable if all goes to plan.

“Obviously getting law enforcement involved would be a mistake.” I push out a heavy breath. “So, what’s the play?”

“The summit’s happening somewhere in Pennsylvania. But the exact venue is hush-hush.” More of Finn’s typing fills my ear. “If we can find out where its being held, we can come up with an infiltration plan. Five days isn’t much time, but?—”

“You, Rory, and Cian devise the plan. We’ll get the location.”

“Um, ‘we’ who?” Finn probes.

“The hackstress and I will find out where.” I hang up and stride back into the kitchen, eyes locking on Veronika.

I relay the conversation to her, but before I can finish, she sprints upstairs and comes back down with the laptop, flipping it open on the kitchen island.

Her fingers race across the keyboard as I resume my explanation, shared determination replacing any lingering wariness between us.

We’re on the same team for this, and so the energy between us has changed. I grab my plate and perch beside her.

Hours blur together as we work. The next time I glimpse up from her screen, the sun has arced all the way to the horizon and begun its final descent.

Later, I order takeout, and we eat without breaking rhythm, passing containers back and forth, shoveling food into our faces with chopsticks. All the while, her fingers fly, tracking shell companies and property records.

Veronika asks me about Red Hill and the other families involved, and I disclose anything and everything I can that might connect us to the location of this summit. I’ve never seen anyone so laser focused. Well, maybe Rory. But not like this. Not with her intensity.

I’m also…unprepared for the way our shared mission creates an unexpected intimacy. That’s what this has to be, right? This easy, warm, comfortable rapport that seems to strengthen as the minutes blend into hours…

“ U menya chto-to yest ,” she says, absorbed in her screen.In Russian, it means, I’ve got something .

“ Chto imenno ty nashli ?” What exactly did you find? My reply startles her. And I can’t help but laugh as her gray eyes continue to widen in shock.

“ Govorish' po-russki ?” You speak Russian?

“ Nemnogo . Dostatochno chtoby vyzhit' .” A little. Enough to survive. “Business takes us to interesting places.” I shrug. “Learned from an old babushka in Brighton Beach.”

Finally, she picks her jaw up off the counter and returns to the screen. “My grandmother taught me.” Her voice is somehow soft and shy again. “She used to say Russian winters built stronger souls.”

The hint of longing and the cadence of her words tighten my chest.

For some reason, I tell her about how I learned to curse in Russian from some dock workers during a stakeout.

I expect that to be the end of it, but she trades me another tale from her life, her defenses seeming to lower as what sounds like all-but-forgotten memories spill out.

The way she opens up loosens something deep inside me.

I don’t know what this emotion is, but it’s foreign and unsettling as fuck.

Peace, maybe?

As the night deepens, we migrate to the couch. Veronika balances the laptop on her knees, and I sit beside her, close enough to bump shoulders. The air shifts as soon as she leans into me to point out another promising lead.

Her soft blond hair brushes my arm, and somewhere inside me, a final, fraying thread of restraint snaps.

I capture her mouth in a kiss that’s been building all day.

“Mmph—!” A little sound escapes her as I ply my mouth to hers, heat awakening every part of me in just a few seconds.

I draw back a moment later because I know I’m insane, but when I see her staring at me, just as wild-eyed and into it, I snap the laptop closed and slide it onto the coffee table without taking my eyes from hers.

She licks her lips and whispers, “Why’d you do that?”

“It was in my way.”

“No, why…” Her eyelashes flutter as her eyes flit around rapidly, like she’s searching for the words. “Why’d you kiss me?”

My mouth falls open, but no explanation tumbles out. Instead, my body’s already moving us until she’s reclined on the sofa and I’m on top of her.

“No more questions.” I trace the seam of her lips with my tongue. My nose tucks tight beside hers as our lips mix and mingle, her hands venturing over my shoulders, around my neck, and knotting into my hair.

It’s not long before her thighs spread wide and those spectacular legs fold around my waist. Suddenly, we’re kissing, licking, and biting each other with the same savage energy.

I don’t know how I’m ever going to stop suffocating her with my mouth while my hands rove her body, squeezing everything within reach.

Even though we’re ensnared in this ravenous transaction of mouths and hands, I’m still trying not to fuck her. Last time was…a lot. I still haven’t fully unpacked what exactly that was, and I don’t want to.

I just want her . And I don’t know how to turn off that need.

But sex is a storm gaining strength at the edge of my consciousness.

With a surge of need that shoots straight to my dick, I remember the taste of her pussy…

The way she dripped all over my face…

And in two seconds flat, I’m hard as a rock.

I’m going to pound her all over again if I don’t pump the brakes.

Tearing my mouth from hers, I somehow find the strength to stop. Wide-eyed and aroused as hell, we’re both panting as we lock eyes.

I’m starting to think all this might be just as new to her as it is to me.

Why does that turn me on even more?

My cock twitches, eager to be inside her.

The best I can do is lean my forehead against hers and close my eyes, like I’m admitting defeat. “I want to taste you again.”

“No,” she protests.

I open my eyes in shock.

Her face is red as a Christmas display.

Something inside me breaks. Does this mean…she didn’t like it when I…?

Veronika’s eyes shift away from mine but return just as quickly. Her arms and legs remain tightly fastened around my body, but…she’s clearly flustered or embarrassed.

I’m starting to think something’s wrong, so I lift us into a sitting position with her balanced in my lap. I can see her a little clearer this way, though her full weight on top of my dick is doing nothing to curb the lust demanding that I rip the clothes from her body.

“Nika…” Her nickname comes to my tongue easily. “What is it?”

“I…” She rolls her beautiful lips together, which forces me to kiss her for a few more minutes. When I pull back, her eyes gleam with desire.

“You what?”

“What if I want to taste you?” She might as well have slapped me across the face with those words.

I gape. “What?”

“I want you,” Nika’s eyes drop to my collarbone, “in my mouth.”

This might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.

I’m nearly speechless, but my dick knows how to talk for me.

“That can be arranged.” I stand, taking her with me, and set her down on the floor. Her fingertips alight on the hem of my sweats. “You’re sure, princess?”

She gives me an adorable glare as she yanks my pants down. “Shut up and sit.”

Biting back a smile, I relax back on the couch, my fingers threading through the base of her braided hair as she kneels down. I know I’m going to want a good grip for this.

I groan the second she sticks her tongue out, her lips opening wide. My cock slips straight into her wet mouth, and it’s better than I ever thought it could be.

Despite her shyness from a few moments ago, she’s not exactly hesitant. The way her mouth moves over my cock, her tongue teasing and her hands stroking… fuck .

It’s so good and so hot, I’m angry.

My grip tightens in her hair, and I push her down harder on my length.

She moans, gasps, and chokes around my shaft, and I can’t stop from thrusting inside her. Her nails dig into my thighs as she rides it out, slipping me a gaze when she can.

Throat-fucking Nika is unreal. I don’t know how I made it this far in life without experiencing something so outstanding.

Her face is flushed, eyes shining. She looks incredible and feels even better.

I don’t last long.

I pull out just in time to paint her face and neck with my cum. She’s so sexy. Her smile shouldn’t be legal in the state of New York.

Losing control like this unsettles me.

That I like it so much is even worse.

But I refuse to worry about that right now. Instead, I yank off my t-shirt and wipe her face before pushing her onto the couch and tugging her pants down.

I grin at her wide-eyed expression. “You tasted me, so now I’m tasting you.”

Once she’s been thoroughly ravished and her body is limp from pleasure, I bring her a washcloth damp with warm water so she can fix the mess I made of her face properly.

Back in the bathroom, I reluctantly wash my own face, wishing I could keep her scent on my skin for the rest of the night.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to her after what we just did, but by the time I return to the living room, Nika’s fast asleep on the couch. The product of sexual satisfaction and sleep deprivation, if I had to guess.

I stare at her angelic face like a creep for far too long, and then I grab the blanket off the back of the couch and drape it over her.

Seeing her rest sends a pang of envy through me. I wish I could do the same.