Page 27 of The Tsar’s Obsession (Bratva Sinners #1)
Get Rest
Mia
The shower was cleansing both for my mind and my body.
I stepped out to find a white summer dress— my summer dress, carefully laid out for me on the bed.
A pair of my sandals was placed on the floor beside it, and curiously enough, earrings and a bracelet were displayed on a little end table. The eyeball table.
The eyeballs were gone, though.
Dressed, I ventured into the main living room and noticed a leather travel bag on one of the dining chairs, my passport on top. Evidently, my clothes were inside the bag. How interesting. Someone had been to my apartment and collected my belongings and my passport.
“Hello, miss. Your coffee, it’s- ah ready.” I jumped at the voice emanating from the kitchen. I forgot all about the little man!
“Thank you.” This was so strange. Kirill had a butler . His name, that tanned olive skin, and his adorable accent led me to believe Francesco was Italian. The styled mane of gray hair perched on top of his tiny stature fit his overall persona of a dotting grandfather.
“I make-ah omelet for you. Sundried tomato with spinach and feta, hm? Please enjoy, Miss Mia.” His raspy voice carried across the kitchen as he slowly strolled over to the dining table, setting the plate on a prepared placemat. With a radiant smile, he pulled out the chair for me. “Please-ah, sit.”
Francesco poured me a hot cup of fresh coffee, a gray linen kitchen cloth hanging off his forearm. “Please-ah. Milk, cream.” He pointed to two small white ceramic creamers, carefully placed to the side of the cup.
Everything in this place was meticulous. Like Kirill. No smaller than the apartment he just purchased, the view of the city was breathtaking, the morning fog slowly dissipating right outside the windows. The cutlery sparkled, the cloth napkin was crisp, and the floor—shiny, without a speck of dust.
Darker colors and heavier furniture were a dead giveaway that a man certainly lived here. But it wasn’t over the top. It was comfortable. Comforting .
Like Kirill.
Goddamn, I had a huge fucking problem. I was in love, I was. Everything about him ruffled my feathers.
“Thank you, Francesco. The omelet is delicious,” I complimented as the older gentleman silently moved around the kitchen.
“Oh, thank you, miss.” His smile lit up the room again. “Mr. Kirill come get you.” He checked his watch. “In twenty minutes. I pack-ah your suitcase, miss. I hope you enjoy your trip.” His sincerity was making me short-circuit.
Kirill was the head of the Russian Bratva. He murdered someone last night, cutting out that man’s eyeballs and leaving them for me to discover like some sick bounty. And yet, his butler was a warm and soft-spoken Italian grandfather.
As promised, twenty minutes later Kirill arrived at the front door, looking casual in a white linen shirt and black shorts, like he was made for warm weather.
Somehow, I didn’t notice the star tattoos on his knees when he was naked in front of me the other night, but now, my eyes landed on that black ink right away.
I had very limited knowledge of Russian gang tattoos, but a small spark ignited in a corner of my mind. They meant something—something important. I would have asked, but at that moment, all I could think about was how good he looked in that linen shirt .
“You look stunning.” He assessed me while I still sat at the dining table, coffee cup in hand, unable to hold back my smile at his presence. “Perfect for our trip.” And then he erased the distance between us so quickly, effortlessly leaning in to press his plump, delicious lips to mine.
Only a week had passed since our last kiss…yet he left me breathless.
Slowly but confidently, his hand on my neck, his hot lips marked mine, his tongue sliding inside my mouth, waking me up better than any cup of coffee ever could. “Mmm. You like cream with your coffee,” he remarked when he pulled away slightly and pecked my cheek. “Let’s go, Sunshine.”
“W-wait.” The word jumped out by itself. “Do we…do we have to go right now?” I held him back, hooking my index finger on his gold chain, not wanting this to end. Instead, the only place I wanted to be was in his arms while he carried me to his bedroom, his hands on my ass, my tongue in his mouth.
“Yes, baby,” he smirked. “We have to leave. Now.”
What a tormentor. He understood perfectly well what I wanted but chose to deny me. Instead, a car awaited us downstairs, all of it beginning to look very familiar. We arrived at a private jet, and it took off, Kirill staying silent all throughout our car ride.
Only when we were up in the air did I ask. “You going to tell me where we’re going, or do you enjoy keeping me prisoner?” I hated to admit that I loved it all. His secrecy, his confidence, his control. He took care of everything, effortlessly bringing me into his life.
Bahamas. We landed in the Bahamas so he could work, and I could enjoy a few beach days. Work. I wondered what kind of possible work could bring him here.
"I hope you like it." Kirill’s authoritative voice filled up the opulent and cool living room we stepped into.
We arrived at a monstrous-sized villa that stood on the beach and was surrounded by palm trees.
Luxurious interiors and staff abounded, the fresh sea breeze permeating the atmosphere.
And yet, heavy security stood right outside, the contrast making me feel uneasy.
My footsteps echoed on the gleaming marble floors while I followed Kirill through the spacious main living room, acutely aware that his eyes watched me like a hawk. I paused to take in the breathtaking view of the shimmering ocean right in the background of a deep blue infinity pool.
There were rooms on either side of the villa, a grand kitchen with an island that could seat half a hockey team, and muted, beachy tones throughout. A house on the beach, two pools, staff around the clock, a luscious garden, a tennis court, a gym, and more. Kirill lived like a king.
"Sorry, not much entertainment and people, but there is a library and yoga room and everything. I have work tomorrow, so I’ll be away during the day, but…” He paused, a smirk appearing on his face. “You’ll spend the evening with me, yes?”
He was already up against me, his hands finding their place on my waist, trapping all the air inside my lungs. I wasn’t used to anyone touching me so leisurely. I wasn’t used to him touching me like I belonged to him.
Before I could respond anything, he’d already decided, “But not tonight. Get rest; you’ll need it. And you had a difficult night last night.” With that, Kirill led me to one of the rooms, and with a mysterious smile, abandoned me inside a sprawling tropical oasis.
Unexpected turn of events.
A bit shocked that he would just close the door on me like that, I took in the spacious surroundings and the gorgeous views of the ocean and palm trees.
All the interiors were carefully crafted from the finest materials, and the canopy bed was seducing me with its soft and plush bedding.
Everything screamed luxury. Kirill wasn’t wealthy; he was untouchable.
I discarded my dress and fell onto the softest, most relaxing bed I’d ever laid my eyes on, but before I closed my eyes, I texted Viv.
Mia : I’m with Kirill in the Bahamas, he kidnapped me here, like the PSYCHO that he is. Also, he IS the guy from ten years ago who I met on my “little hoe journey” in Russia. Why’d you have to set me up like that?!
Before I could even place my phone down, Viv had already texted back.
Viv : You’re welcome and HOLY SHIT.
Viv : Maybe I should swear off sex for a few years too, damn, I need to find a man who’s that desperate to have me. He’s waited almost a decade to see you?!
I was just as shocked as Viv, still trying to process that he was indeed the same man.
Mia : He told me to get rest because “I’ll need it.” What do you think that means?
I floated into my sexual fantasies, both elated at the thought of having his hands all over my body again and scared for my own mental health.
Viv : I…wow. God bless your soul and save your pussy. Go be a nasty slut. Love you.
Before I drifted off to sleep, I vividly admitted to myself that with Kirill, I wanted to be exactly that—a nasty slut.