We will not fulfill any book request that does not come through the book request page or does not follow the rules of requesting books. NO EXCEPTIONS.

Comments are manually approved by us. Thus, if you don't see your comment immediately after leaving a comment, understand that it is held for moderation. There is no need to submit another comment. Even that will be put in the moderation queue.

Please avoid leaving disrespectful comments towards other users/readers. Those who use such cheap and derogatory language will have their comments deleted. Repeat offenders will be blocked from accessing this website (and its sister site). This instruction specifically applies to those who think they are too smart. Behave or be set aside!

Fall of Snow: Chapter 50

ELIJAH

Snow paces restlessly up and down my office. She hasn’t stopped moving since she sent the message to Wynter an hour ago, and each time I move to comfort her, she sends me a glare I’m not brave enough to question.

If you told me a month ago that Snow Saint James would have me wrapped around her little finger, I would have put a bullet in your brain for suggesting such a thing, but that’s exactly what’s happened. The fierce woman I want to stand by my side could rule our kingdom without any questions being asked, and that thought alone has my cock hardening again.

After we finished in the bathroom, I carried her to the shower and kept her distracted as the water washed away the evidence of our quick fuck. I’m a dick for taking her like that, especially when she’s only barely over the agony her period put her through, but I needed her.

Just another reason to get her pregnant as soon as possible. She won’t have to be in that amount of pain for at least nine months. For two days I couldn’t bear to be away from her, not when she was bedridden, often crying from the intensity of the pain she was in.

“Snow, you’re going to wear a path in my carpet, and Mrs. Chambers is going to kill me.”

She stops in her tracks, turning her brutal stare on me. “I just stopped my brothers from killing you, and then you invited them over for a casual afternoon of Mafia wars. Please tell me in what possible universe I wouldn’t be freaking the hell out right now?”

If it were any other woman yelling at me, she would be locked up until she learned to speak to me with the respect I deserve. But not Snow. Her fire makes me hard as a rock, and I wouldn’t have her any other way.

“Mafia wars?” I raise a brow.

“What else would you like me to call it?” she snaps at the same time the doorbell rings through the house, and her body stills in its place, terror crossing her features. “Are you sure we don’t need to bring in some extra guards?”

I smile, slowly rising from the desk and crossing the office to where she’s standing still as a statue. When I reach her, I tug her body into mine, forcing down the grunt of pain when her body collides with my likely broken ribs, and tip her chin up to look at me. “It’s going to be okay, Snowflake. I don’t want you stressing about this, even if I do like you being worried about me.” I smirk.

“Don’t let it go to your head.” She rolls her eyes, but the ghost of a smile plays on her lips.

I press a kiss to her temple, relishing in the way our scents mingle together after we’ve fucked. Even after a shower, I can smell our mutual release on her skin, and it takes every ounce of restraint in my body not to throw her over my shoulder and fuck her against my desk like I long to do. But I can’t leave her family standing on the doorstep, even if their presence is only going to make Snow more uncomfortable than she already is.

I drag myself away from her, pointing at the chair I placed beside my own at the desk. If she’s going to rule by my side, she needs to do it from the right side of the table.

I don’t chance another look over my shoulder, not with how wound up I am and how close I am to dragging Snow back to our room and not letting her leave until I’ve had my fill, which if my constant need for her over the last decade is anything to go by, isn’t likely to ever happen.

By the time I reach the door, I’ve slipped into business mode. I swing the double doors open and find Storm and Rayne standing on the top step, each with a mask just like my own in place. Behind them, Everett has Wynter tucked under his arm, worry etched into her brow.

“Where’s my sister?” Storm snaps.

“Waiting for us in the office. As you can imagine, she’s nervous about your visit after the… compromising position she found us all in earlier.” It’s not like me to beat around the bush or avoid conflict, but I’m trying to conserve as much of our fragile relationship as I can. Although in another time, I would have retaliated for a stunt like the one they pulled this morning, that isn’t an option right now. Not only because they’re Snow’s family, but because I won’t hurt her like that.

I push the doors wider and step to the side, silently inviting them into the house that has only just started feeling like a home.

“This way,” I say as I start up the hallway. When I reach the office, she’s sitting in her chair and her face shows none of the anxiety she displayed only a few minutes ago. She has one leg crossed over the other, her tight black jeans hugging her shapely legs. She looks calm and collected when her eyes meet mine, and my obsession with her grows to a new high.

Snow is utter perfection.

I take my place at her side, a feeling of rightness crashing down on me. I knew from the moment I saw her that she would be my wife one day, but I always hoped she would be more than that, and to see that come to fruition is more than I ever could have imagined.

Snow’s face is stony as each of her siblings filter into the room, taking a seat across the desk from us. The air in the room is thick with tension and unspoken words. Just a few hours ago, they were beating me black and blue, but none of them seem remorseful for their actions.

“What are we doing here, Russo?” Storm finally asks, leaning back in his seat as if he would rather be anywhere but here.

“Storm!” Wynter hisses. “We talked about this.”

“We talked about being civil, and that’s what I’m doing.”

“No, we talked about being nice so we don’t miss out on our sister’s life because of your pigheadedness.”

Storm sighs, irritation seeping from him. “Fine. How can we help you, Elijah?” He turns his attention from me immediately to look at his sister, as if asking if that was better.

“I had a call from the guy that manages my dealers. I haven’t had a chance to choose or train a second in charge, but this guy was doing it for my uncle and had no allegiance to him after he died, so I kept him on.” I’m giving more detail than I need to, but only because I’m hoping it will show I’m being genuine. “Anyway, he called after Snow and I got home, and we’ve had six of our dealers go missing in the last few hours. He does a check-in with all the dealers three times a day depending on the times they’re working, and when he didn’t hear back from them, he went to check on them and none of them were where they normally work.”

“Did you ever think maybe they just fucked off with the drugs?” Rayne asks.

“Normally I would think that, but these guys that are missing have families. They wouldn’t put them at risk for a few grand of coke and some pills.”

Silence falls over the room as they consider my words and what they could mean. To me, it seems like someone is targeting both families and hitting us where it hurts. In terms of targets, we are the two biggest ones in the city, so it’s ambitious, but it makes the most sense. Our biggest trade has always been drugs. Angelo wanted it to be trafficking, and that side of the business was very lucrative, but it wasn’t as steady as drugs. You have to wait to get girls. You can’t just break down the doors in villages and steal women from their homes, and then stick them on a plane to the USA, no matter how much he would have liked to have done that.

The Saint James family sells weapons, technology, and a bunch of shit I don’t even pretend to understand. That’s always been Everett’s domain, and I don’t want to stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong. If we wanted to hit them, it was always to take a shipment, even when we had no idea what to do with the shit we stole because it wasn’t our domain. It was always an easy dent in their armor.

“Was it you?” Snow asks, her eyes trained on Rayne and her hands folded in her lap. Her tone is firm but casual. “Seems awfully convenient that you decided Elijah took the shipment on the same day six of our dealers went missing.” The people across the desk have underestimated Snow, her entire life, but today is her chance to show them the leader she was always meant to be, and I’m not going to take that opportunity away from her.

“Our?” Storm rumbles. “Are you forgetting who your family is?”

Her eyes move to mine, surprise hidden in the icy blue. She’s shocked by her own words, but I’m not. The moment the word left her pretty pink lips I knew she was in this just as deep as I have been for the last ten years.

I give her a small nod, telling her this business is just as much hers now as it is mine.

“Elijah and I are getting married on Saturday,” she reminds them. “Now, answer my question.”

“No,” Rayne answers. “We’ve had our sights on figuring out who took the shipment. All our men have been on that or on security to make sure we couldn’t be hit again while we were working out who the threat was.”

“What was your tip off?”

“Tip off for what?”

“What pointed you in Elijah’s direction? What made you assume your sister’s fiancé, who you recently agreed to an alliance with, was the one who took the shipment?”

Rayne hesitates, his eyes darting to Everett beside him for an explanation.

“The job was too clean for anyone else. No one else has the experience or the resources you have access to, and there were telltale signs of some of the previous missing shipments that pointed us in your direction,” Everett explains, holding Wynter tightly in his lap. He feels the same intense protectiveness for her as I do Snow, and if I didn’t know our family were cold, heartless killers, I would think perhaps it was hereditary.

“Are you serious?” Snow snaps. “You three beat my fiancé black and blue, and your evidence was that the scene was clean?” The anger in her voice burns through the room, and I don’t miss the way her brother’s eyes widen.

“Will you stop calling him that?” Storm growls. “You are not marrying a Russo.”


Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Options

not work with dark mode
Reset