Page 21

21

ERIK

T atiana’s turning up at the dress shop a few days ago with such an incredible offer feels too good to be true.

Perhaps it’s my natural suspicion about anyone around Anastasia, given everything she’s been through, but I can’t help but feel there’s something I’m missing.

So in the days between that meeting and today, I investigated.

I dug as deep as I could into their history and found that while the Yegorov family is similar to the Remizova family, they seem clean.

As clean as one can be in our type of life.

They’ve quietly kept to themselves, never stepped out of their lane, and other than some trouble about a marriage some ten years ago, there’s nothing to justify my suspicion.

Maybe this is a good thing.

A real good thing born from Anastasia’s work to change the direction of the Russian Bratva.

After all, without her decisions to do what she’s been doing, Tatiana never would have approached her.

This offer is legit.

With the result of my investigation rumbling around my mind, I seek out Anastasia in her office where she’s bent over her desk fiddling with the back of her monitor.

“IT troubles?” I say, closing the door behind me.

“Yes,” she sighs, slightly strained.

“Why do we not have a tech adviser on hand or something? Is that something we should have?”

“Closest we have is the weapons expert.” I chuckle, approaching her desk.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was working away fine and then this monitor just randomly turned off. I can technically get all my shit done on the other monitor, but…” She peers up at me through the curtain of her hair with a slight pout.

“I like having two.”

“Want me to take a look?”

She slides back from the desk and sighs, pushing her hair away from her face.

“Be my guest.”

Adjusting the back of the monitor to face me, I start pulling out the cables to test how each of them feels.

It has power, but the display is dead.

“Did you find out anything about Tatiana and her family?” Anastasia drops into her chair and reclines back.

“Nothing that we don’t already know,” I reply.

“She’s clean. She had some complications with her pregnancy, so that might have spurred her onto the path of good morals, but there are no skeletons in her closet that are a threat to us. If anything, she’s taking the risk since the Cartel are on our backs.”

“Hmm.” Anastasia hums softly, seemingly deep in thought while I troubleshoot her monitor.

Taking the cable from her working monitor, I switch some things around as a test.

“I know you’ll keep this deal quiet,” she says after a moment.

“But what do you think? As honestly as you can.”

“What do I think?” The broken monitor flickers to life as the other one dies.

“I think you need a new cable for your monitor. And I think Viktor might have more insight on a deal this big.”

“No.” Anastasia leans forward.

“I want your opinion.”

“I’m not your business advisor.”

“So?” She stares at me intently.

“Please?”

How am I supposed to resist that?

“Okay. Well, I think it’s a good deal. Rich people need money to cover up their mistakes, and we all know that around here, the money those people lose to gambling is eye watering, but none of them ever show it because they just borrow more. And those people like fancy homes to show that they are wealthy. So what does it matter if they get those homes from us?”

I set her monitors back up and turn the working one back toward her.

“This is New York, after all. People use condos and ranches to show off their wealth, and it will be honest money. Well, more honest than before.”

“I was thinking the same,” she agrees.

“But it’s one thing for me to deviate like this. Having other families deviate from tradition could cause some trouble. I mean, organized crime is part of our tradition. We’re not supposed to be blue-collar.”

“I’d hardly call it blue-collar.” I chuckle.

“You’re still selling to people in debt with more money than sense, and I’m sure it won’t be a credit union chasing those repayments. It’s just money in our pockets rather than some other dick’s. And traditions are important, I won’t deny that, but some rules can be bent.”

“You think so?” She looks up at me and her eyes are like saucers.

I walk around the desk, nodding.

“It’s tradition that put you in charge despite the pushback from all of those generals. And it’s tradition that gives you the power to make changes for the good of the family.”

“Those traditions also require me to marry another leader from another Russian family.”

A sharp pang of jealousy moves through my chest, and before I can stop myself, I reach for her wrist and pull her to her feet next to me.

“See? Not every tradition is good,” I say.

Her eyes close briefly as we stand chest to chest, breathing each other’s air.

“Jealous?” she asks softly when her eyes open.

“You don’t think I should honor that one?”

“Not at all.” Clasping her jaw between my fingers, I tilt her head upward and press a slow, lingering kiss to her lips.

“After all, doesn’t tradition also mean you need to keep away from someone as low down the ladder as me?”

Anastasia gasps against my lips as I push her up against the desk.

Within two kisses, my other hand is buried in her pants while she clutches at the desk and gasps against my lips.

The kiss breaks when my fingers slide gently against her pussy and her eyes flash dark with desire.

“It’s true,” she gasps.

“You shouldn’t be touching me, let alone fucking me. You’re just security.”

“How terrible,” I groan, sinking my fingers deep into her heat.

“We’re breaking all sorts of rules, so what’s one more?”

“You think you’re worth breaking rules?” A moan of surprise punches out of Anastasia and she lifts one hand to cling to the side of my neck.

Our mouths clash together once more as the air around us becomes electric.

I fuck her slowly, focusing on reaching deep inside her while teasing her clit with the pad of my thumb.

She rocks down onto me with soft moans and her words are lost to the dance of tongues in her mouth.

Fuck anyone who thinks they can marry her.

She’s not mine, and yet she is.

In my mind, she belongs to me, and I belong to her.

She’s off limits, but knowing that she comes to me—and only me—makes it all the hotter.

I thrust my fingers deeper, and Anastasia moans loudly, then she comes with a cry and buries her face into my neck as she trembles and gasps through her pleasure.

“Fuck tradition,” I murmur.

“You’re the Godmother. We follow you and trust you. Remember that.” I seal my promise with a kiss.

Leaving her office after further discussing the deal and setting up the new cable I found buried in her drawer, my heart jumps into my throat when I run smack bang into Viktor.

“Fuck. Were you just hiding outside the door?”

Did he overhear us?

“What are you playing at?” Viktor hisses, grabbing me by the collar and dragging me a few feet down the corridor.

Then he shoves me into the wall and his eyes blaze with fury.

“You’re throwing away this entire family for some pussy?”

Shit.

“Viktor, it’s not like that,” I snap, shoving him away.

“Isn’t it? I heard you. Screw tradition, we’re loyal to her . I heard all that crap.”

Thankfully, it looks like he didn’t hear everything.

“Am I wrong?”

“Of course you’re wrong!” Viktor balls up one hand but after a moment, he lets it fall with a deep sigh.

“Do you not care about me anymore?”

“Huh?”

“Am I not the man who raised you?”

My chest tightens when I look him in the eye.

“Of course you are.”

“Then why is your loyalty not to me? Why is it not with the man who is working himself to the bone to find the Pakhan’s killer? Why are you so blinded by a pretty face and some woeful words?”

“I’m not,” I insist, pushing him away a little.

“But you refuse to tell me why you’re so certain it's her and why you think she’s guilty.”

“Because she was the only one here,” he snaps.

“Among the countless other guards, sure,” I hiss, trying to keep my voice low.

“You know…” Viktor steps away and his expression grows cold. “You’ve spent so long questioning me and telling me to think of her innocence, but have you even spared a moment to think about what happens if I’m right? If she is guilty? You’re letting her drive us to ruin because you’re so certain that you’re right.” Viktor adjusts his tie. “And you’ve never stopped to wonder what will happen if you are wrong. Whereas, me? If I’m wrong, then at least the family knows they have a strong leader.”

As he strides away with his head held high, my instinct to defend Anastasia is strong, but something about his commitment ignites something in my mind.

What if I really am wrong? Can I stand the guilt of this family crumbling around me?