Page 29

“Are you going soft on us?” Timofey jeers.

He refills his glass for the hundredth time tonight and sets the nearly empty bottle back down, downing his cup in one.

“Married, baby on the way, and now you’re not so bloodthirsty?

We had a plan, Matvei. If you’re not going to finish it, step aside and let someone else handle it. ”

I grit my teeth and drink a burning gulp of vodka to keep from throttling him. Diomid leans forward and snatches the bottle, emptying the last of it into his mouth.

“He’s right, it’s been too long without action. The Shevchenko are still crawling all over our city, and what do you do about it? Nothing. All talk. No action. People are starting to whisper.” He waves impatiently at the bartender for another round, even though his eyes are already bloodshot.

“You got something you want to add?” I ask Oleg, who has been tight-lipped the entire evening.

We’re at the bar I brought Anya to so many months ago for what I’d thought was a chance to catch up, but was, in reality, a chance for my brothers to ambush me with their real thoughts on the ceasefire.

Since our brief alliance with the Shevchenkos during Anya’s kidnapping, we’ve kept an uneasy peace between the two families that has my brothers chomping at the bit.

They don’t understand the need for us to recoup as we finalize the alliance with the Milovs.

This situation has given us a chance to rebuild some of our burned-down business, and Oleg has begun to look like he’s sleeping at night again, rather than fretting over the lines of red in our bank accounts.

My other brothers don’t care about that sort of thing. They want control. Power.

“I think,” Oleg says cautiously, eyes darting between his three brothers before settling on me, “that we’re in a good spot right now. We’d be wise to use it to our advantage. Before the Shevchenkos do.”

“Even Oleg agrees,” Timofey says as if that settles it. He grabs the bottle from the server before she can set it down and twists the top open, refilling all our glasses.

I glance at my watch. It’s half past eleven, and I want to be home with Anya, not here listening to my brothers complain.

She’s showing now and looking more radiant than ever.

She’s kept busy working through the Milov alliance and helping to establish a firmer foothold in the city through our legitimate businesses, which has been enough to keep her from tearing her hair out over the long weeks of bed rest.

Honestly, my sentiments mirror my brothers’.

I have no love for the Shevchenkos, and the desire to drive them out of the city—to eradicate them as we did the Lankovs—burns inside my chest. Only Anya’s influence keeps me from acting on my darker impulses.

“Patience,” she says, reminding me that it’s better to strike from the most advantageous position possible rather than throw ourselves against them now and risk suffering a defeat.

Caution is not a family trait.

Diomid shrugs one shoulder. “If you’re not up for the job, I’ll take over. I know just how to bring those bastards to their knees.”

“And how is that?” I ask, a dangerous edge to my voice. No one is taking my position at the head of the Abashin family, and I’m more than willing to take them in the back alley to remind them that I’m in charge here.

“Full assault. Explosives. Arson. Play dirty and target their wives, their sisters, their mothers.” Diomid’s eyes light with a sinister glow. “No holding back. Once they realize how low we’re willing to go, they’ll have no choice but to surrender.”

“You’ve proven how effective it is to target their women,” Timofey tacks on. “It worked when you kidnapped Anya. Got us the Milov family when we had no hope of securing that alliance.”

They have a point, so I incline my head a fraction of an inch. “I’ll consider it. For the time being, we wait. We need more intel on their operations before we strike anything, and I’m not about to kidnap a woman with no plan on what to do with her afterward. It will only incense them.”

“We hold her hostage until they give in, and if they don’t, we kill her,” Timofey says casually.

I stand, towering over my drunken brothers. In the end, it doesn’t matter what they want. I’ll listen to their opinions, but the final call is, and always will be, mine to make.

“It’ll be your head on a stake if you make a move like that,” I promise him. “Gather more intel, because you’ve done a shit job of that so far. When you’ve given me something of substance, we’ll make a plan. Until then, shut the fuck up and keep your heads down.”

Oleg nods, but the other two share a mutinous look. I grab Timofey by his collar and shove him back against the couch, getting right into his face.

“You got a problem with it, let’s take it outside.”

He sneers, and I can smell the vodka on his breath, but he’s sober enough to shake his head and slump back into the cushion, shoving my hands off of him. “Alright, alright. Jesus. I’m not looking for a fight.”

“All three of you,” I say, pointing at each of my brothers in turn, “my office tomorrow. Noon.”

I walk off and leave them there, but I can’t shake off their words.

I don’t want to be cautious. I don’t want to wait.

I want to take out every last Shevchenko in my city and claim it for my own.

It’s been my only goal for years—to take Miami and hold it up to show that the Abashin family is not to be taken lightly. To prove myself.

The drive home is long enough to stew, and by the time I walk in the front door, I’m wound tight. All three dogs greet me at the door, their barks fading once they realize it’s just me coming in.

“Anya? I’m home,” I call, giving each dog a scratch. “Kept her safe, did you?”

“I’m upstairs!” Anya shouts back.

Tucked into bed but not asleep, no doubt waiting up for me. She’s never been able to settle when I’m not home, and though I wish she could rest more, I love that she feels safe in my arms. At least I’ve done one thing right.

I take the stairs up and marvel again at how I ended up here, living this life with her. I’ve fucked up so many times in life and with her, but she’s stuck by me. All the suspicion and doubts have faded, replaced by a deep trust between us.

“You should be sleeping,” I say, pausing in the doorway to take in the scene.

Anya is sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard with a paperback in her hands. I’ve had to buy two new bookshelves to keep up with her habit, but I’d buy a hundred to make her happy.

Her hair is loose and falling around her face in waves, grown out a little from the shoulder length it had been when we’d met. No makeup. A slip of pajamas. When she looks up at me over the top of her book and wets her lips with the tip of her tongue, I melt. My girl is perfect.

“And miss out on whatever gossip you’re bringing home? Never. Tell me, what did the boys want to meet about?” She pats the space on the bed beside her and scoots over a little, making room for me.

Her stomach is rounded now, straining the fabric of her nightie, inching it higher over her long, stretched-out legs. Fuck she looks good pregnant. Knowing it’s my child inside of her, that I’ve claimed her like this, sends a rod of desire straight down my spine.

“I don’t want to talk about them,” I say, stripping off my shirt and my jeans. In only my briefs, I crawl up her body instead, knees on either side of her hips.

She raises the book an inch. “Matvei, I’m reading. Are you trying to distract me?”

I slide my hand up her leg, teasing the skin just beneath the hem of her slip. “No, of course not. You’re welcome to continue reading. If you can.”

Anya’s lips press together as I move a little higher, just skimming her inner thigh. Her eyes dip to where my cock is tenting my briefs, already hard just from the sight of her and this brief contact. All she has to do is exist, and I want her.

“I could,” she teases, dropping her eyes back to the page in front of her. She parts her legs for me, just a little, but it’s enough to slide my hand up and brush the backs of my knuckles against her panty-covered pussy.

I’m impatient to feel her, pulling her panties to the side to stroke bare skin instead.

She shifts but keeps her focus on the book, even when I start to circle her clit lightly.

When I push a finger inside, she lets out a soft sigh, then moans when I sink another beside the first. Her eyes flicker from the page, then drop again.

She’s properly wet now, soaking my fingers to the knuckle, and I use the heel of my hand to rub her clit as I push against that spot deep inside of her. The combination does it, and she drops the book, letting it fall off the bed as she grabs onto me. Victory.

I keep stroking until she comes, crying out and bowing over my hand. Her fingers dig into my forearm with every wave that overtakes her, and I soak in the sight of her like this, undone, glowing.

“Was that your best effort?” I tease her, capturing her chin with my hand and kissing her hard and deep. “Shameful.”

“You don’t play fair,” she murmurs.

Her pussy is pink and gleaming with wetness, begging for me to fill it. I tug her slip down, exposing her swollen breasts, and bend to take a nipple into my mouth. She spears her fingers through my hair as I suck and tease until it’s as swollen as her pussy.

“You don’t want me to.” I move up and kiss the hollow of her throat, then the spot behind her ear that smells and tastes like pure, perfect Anya. “Do you?”

Anya reaches between us to free my cock from my briefs, wrapping her hand around me and stroking me from root to tip. “No,” she admits, gazing hungrily down at my dick in her palm, “I want you to keep distracting me.”

She gives another slow stroke of my cock and I feel the tables turning swiftly, the power shifting into her hands. Her touch feels so good, but I want the tight, wet heat of her pussy clamped around me.

“Lie down,” I order, grabbing her hips and tugging her closer to me so she’s flat on her back, breasts pushed up toward the ceiling.

I drag my palm down her body to her pussy, parting her with my thumbs and angling my cock toward her entrance. She guides me in, spreading her knees and gasping when the head stretches her walls.

“Always so much,” she moans, closing her eyes. “I can barely handle you.”

“But you always do.” I push forward another inch, two, until I’m fully seated inside of her. “You take it so well, princess.”

I shift and hook one of her legs over my shoulder, then start to thrust. Slowly at first, until I feel the walls of her relax around my cock and her own hips rise to meet mine. It takes every ounce of control to not just let go, to take her like the animal I feel like with her speared on my dick.

Anya swirls her hips, raking her fingernails down my chest. “You’re doing it again,” she pants when I draw all the back to the tip before sliding slowly, carefully, back in. “Holding back.”

I clench my jaw. “I have to be careful.”

Her eyes flare in challenge, that mischievous, sexy smile playing on her lips. “I can take it.” She draws another circle with her hips, tightening her pussy around me and I buck forward, unable to stop myself.

I lean forward, hands on either side of her head, and drive into her, grinding my hips against her clit with every thrust. She throws her arms around me, pulling me closer, and I let my control slip.

Each thrust is harder than the last, forcing a gasp from her parted lips into the slip of space between us, but she takes it all.

Arching up, she kisses me, then her teeth find my shoulder as her second orgasm hits. Pain, sharp and delicious, spurs me on, and I’m close, so close from the way she’s tightening up.

I move her leg higher and take her wrists, pinning them above her head. It emphases the bounce of her breasts each time I push inside of her and the view is too fucking good.

“Cum for me,” she begs, dragging her teeth along the shell of my ear. “Fill me. Take me.”

Fuck, she’s impossible to resist, and I don’t want to.

She’s so wet, so tight, clamping her legs behind my back to pull me in with every wild thrust of my hips like she can’t get enough, even when it must be near her limit.

With a cry, I buck forward one final time and empty myself inside of her.

My heart pounds in my ears with every pulse of my cock.

Our ragged breathing steadies, and I roll to one side, pulling her against me.

She fits perfectly in the crook of my arm, like we were made for this.

I don’t believe in fate, in soulmates, in any of that.

But I know that she and I were tied together in some way, that there is no reality where we didn’t find each other.

The feel of her body against mine is the only thing that pulls me from the darkness of my mind.

“I love you.” The words seemed impossible to say once, but now they come as naturally as breathing. I rub my hand over her rounded stomach. “And you.”

Her hand finds mine. “I love you, too, Matvei. Forever and always.”

*****

THE END