I’m losing control.
I can sense it seeping beneath my skin, clinging to my bones, and destroying every shred of discipline I’ve maintained over the years.
The sole reason for such a blasphemous change starts and ends with the woman lying in my arms after I fucked her until she couldn’t take it anymore.
Until she cried and sobbed and finally begged in that soft voice that does shit to me. “I really need to sleep, and so do you. Please?”
I certainly can’t fucking sleep.
One, it was distracting when she hugged me in her sleep and even threw her leg over mine in some sort of territorial ownership.
My Sasha might seem naïve, but there’s an animal inside her, too—like in all of us—and that animal needs to stake a claim.
I might have marked her skin red and left bruises and hickeys all over her tits, stomach, and inner thighs, but she left her own marks. They’re invisible and lurk beneath the skin, but they’re so powerful in their softness, so…irritably persistent.
Sasha didn’t have to physically cockblock me for these past months, but my cock still refused to touch any other woman but her.
That’s probably why I nearly broke her earlier. I had to remind myself that she was kidnapped and nearly assaulted yesterday. My negotiating skills with my cock’s beastly side came to a staggering halt when she submitted to everything I dished out to her.
I warned her that I wasn’t going to hold back, but she stood there, looking at me with the same desire that twisted my guts.
It doesn’t matter how much I try to stay away from her, if she gives me that look, all my resolve vanishes.
I stroke my fingers through her hair, then pause.
What the fuck am I doing?
There’s always this need to touch her, whether during or outside of sex, and I’m not the type who does any sentimental shit. I fuck, and only to satisfy a physical need. I don’t get off on wooing women or landing a pussy, but all of those principles have changed drastically since this particular woman came into my life.
Not only do I want to keep her, but I also have this urge to pursue her.
I don’t even know what the fuck that means.
Courting women doesn’t happen in our world. Most of our marriages are arranged for an alliance or some strategic shit, and the union has to be approved by the Pakhan himself.
The real question is, why do I want to pursue Sasha when I already have her?
Due to the fact that she’s not yours and might leave.
That fucked-up demon in my head is right.
Yes, Sasha hugged me to sleep, her lips parted in a small smile, and her arms and legs enveloped me as if she was scared to let me go, but she’s also not one hundred percent here.
She has roots in some other place, and unless I completely weed those out, she’ll never be mine.
I release her hair and peel her arm and leg from around me. Sasha nuzzles her face in my chest, refusing to let me go even in her sleep, but I gently push her until she’s lying on the pillow.
Fucking her was the most logical—or illogical—solution to my dick’s unresolved issues, but it’s not the best one.
Especially after the one-on-one talks I’ve had with the Pakhan. He knows of the problems we’re encountering with Juan’s shipment and the attack that happened, probably due to intel from Vladimir. Since I’m no closer to resolving it or bringing the perpetrator’s head to Juan as a form of peace offering, the Pakhan is taking matters into his own hands and will talk to Juan leader-to-leader.
I don’t like that idea. In fact, I dislike it enough that I considered getting Adrian involved in this issue, but I soon voted against it. Not only would I be giving him incentive against me, but I might lose the one thing that’s keeping me strong on my way to the throne.
And I will get there one day.
Once Sergei is out, I’ll be the next Pakhan. No doubt about it. I just need to think of a way to do it without sacrificing Sasha’s identity, considering that Rai knows about it now.
I wash up in the bathroom. Once I’m done, my immediate course of action is decided. I text Viktor with instructions about what to do while I go to the Bratva’s meeting.
After I get his confirmation, I step into the closet and put on a suit. I’m in the middle of doing my cuffs when a soft moan reaches my ear.
I head to the bed and stop at the sight before me. A deep frown creases Sasha’s face, and sweat beads on her upper lip and forehead. Her delicate features are caught in a symphony of pain as she thrashes. Her legs kick away the blanket, and her nails scratch the sheets. The shirt she threw on after the shower we had—my shirt—crumples and rides up her thighs.
She whispers intelligible words in Russian, so I silently inch closer. I’m not the sentimental type, but seeing Sasha in pain is no different than being shot. I’ve been there, and it hurts like a motherfucker.
Once I’m near, I opt not to wake her up.
Considering how closed off she is about her life, this may well be the only way to find out more. So I crouch beside her head and listen carefully.
“Mama…please…Papa…no…it’s not…Mishka…I don’t…can’t…Babushka, please…no…no…I don’t want to die…no…Mama! Anton…Anton…I…miss…you…please come back…”
Without my realizing it, my hand has already balled into a fist, and I have to release it before I do something I’ll regret.
Who the fuck is Anton, and why does she miss him?
She has parents and a grandmother, and a Mishka, who I assume is her brother, considering she gave him the endearment of a little bear.
And this fucking Anton.
Was he the one who was beside her that day on the cliff? The lover because of whom she shot the phone so I wouldn’t be able to find him?
All evidence points in that direction.
I still don’t have a last name, but a first name is enough to start. If I have to search the planet for everyone named Anton, then so fucking be it.
Her words turn intelligible—not even words anymore, but more like cries of pain and distress.
I grab her by the throat and squeeze, but not hard enough to cut off her air supply. Sasha’s body jerks, and she opens her eyes.
In the beginning, they’re more brown than green, unfocused, and without a spark. But the turbulent energy soon transforms into panic as she lunges into a sitting position. I loosen my hand enough to allow her, but I don’t release her.
“What…what’s going on? Are we under attack…?”
“We’re not. Breathe.” I squeeze a bit further, and only then does she relax.
So I let my hand drop from her neck because I was just contemplating stroking her cheek like some doting asshole that I absolutely am not.
“You had a nightmare,” I announce the obvious. “What was it about?”
She sinks her teeth into her swollen bottom lip, and my eyes follow the motion, imagining my own teeth there, like I devoured her last night—or, more accurately, early this morning.
Sasha slowly releases it and clears her throat. “I don’t remember. Just something random, I guess.”
Liar.
Something random doesn’t include her family or this certain Anton.
But if I push her about it, she’ll only get defensive. It’s better that she thinks I didn’t hear anything just now.
“Did I…say something?” She gauges my eyes, hers careful, fearful, and on guard.
There’ll be a day when she’ll lay out everything about her life to me. I’ll make sure of it.
“No, but you were thrashing.”
“I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”
“You didn’t.” I wasn’t sleeping in the first place.
I stand, ready to get on with my day. Sasha, however, gets on her knees and grabs me by the arm. “Please tell me you slept.”
When I don’t reply, she swallows. “Not even a little?”
“Sleep is overrated.”
“That’s not true. This situation is getting serious and will have a huge impact on your health if you keep going at this pace, Kirill. I can help if you let me.”
“You need to call me something else when it’s the two of us.”
She pauses, her expression frozen for a second too long. I love how she looks when caught off guard, but what I love more is the slight narrowing of her eyes when she realizes I’m diverting the conversation in a direction she doesn’t approve of.
Sasha is a smart cookie and the only one who can keep up with my fast-paced mind.
“You’re not changing the subject, Kirill.”
“As I was saying, you need to call me something else.”
“What’s wrong with Kirill?”
“Too impersonal.”
“It’s your name.”
“Still impersonal. You’re supposed to be born and bred in Russia, so you, of all people, should know the importance of a familiar name.”
Her lips part. “I…can’t call you by the diminutive form. You’re older than me by a whole eight years.”
“I don’t want that either. A diminutive form is weird all over. What I want, however, is a pet name, like the one I gave you.”
“But why…?”
“I just want one.”
She pauses, swallows once and then again before she clears her throat, her cheeks becoming a deep shade of red. This view of her, all bashful and looking absolutely fuckable in my shirt, is an image I need to engrave in my head for life.
New resolve—make her wear my shirts more often.
Her colorful eyes flicker to more green than brown as she whispers, “Solnste?”
“That’s just lazy. You can’t just choose the masculine form of the pet name I gave you.”
“Well, that’s the first thing I thought about.”
“Think harder then and put some effort into it.”
“As if you put any effort into Solnyshko,” she murmurs almost to herself.
“I will have you know that I did.”
“What type of effort is that? You just picked the first one you thought of back then.”
“Not true, but that’s not our topic of discussion right now.”
“I just need time to think about it. I haven’t done this before, okay?”
So she didn’t give her lover a pet name? One-nil to me, motherfucker.
“You have until the end of the day.”
“Gee, way to put pressure on someone,” she mutters under her breath again.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, nothing.” She smiles sweetly, and I completely forget why I should be mad at this woman for more reasons than one. “Where are you going?”
“To a meeting at the Pakhan’s house.”
She stumbles out of bed. “You should’ve woken me up earlier. I’ll be ready in a minute.”
I’m the one who grabs her by the wrist this time before she reaches the bathroom. Sasha whirls around and stumbles in my embrace. “Have you forgotten what I told you in the text last night? You have a day off.”
“I’m fine now. I don’t want a day off.”
“You’re getting it anyway.”
“But—”
“That’s an order, Sasha.”
“I’m going with you, Kirill.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Either I accompany you in the same car, or I follow in a separate vehicle. You choose the method.”
“How fucking dare you give me an ultimatum?” I sound angry, but I’m actually proud of this little shit. She’s come a long way from being an inflexible, weak soldier to this strong, assertive guard.
“I’m just informing you of my actions, sir.” She straightens against me, and that only causes her hard nipples to brush against both our shirts.
The little fucking tease.
“You can come along.” I squeeze her wrist. “But I swear to fuck, if you do something out of order, I’ll tie you the fuck down and send you back here faster than you can blink.”
She grins. “Yes, sir.”
And then she runs to the bathroom.
About two hours later, we’re done with the brotherhood meeting, so it’s time for my own plan.
During the entire thing, I had to physically stop myself from shooting Rai because she smiled at Sasha.
The worst part? The fucking traitor who claims to only be loyal to me smiled back.
Despite yesterday’s debacle, Rai is put together. She even hid the scratches on her face with makeup and looked like some sort of politician. She’s currently lost in her own thoughts while manically checking her phone. I’m going to take a wild guess that she’s distressed because her husband isn’t around.
Good. I hope he dies and she becomes a widow and then decides to become a nun.
But since that option isn’t on the table right now, I look at her stone-faced guard and then at Sasha. “Leave us. I need a word with Rai.”
She lifts her head from her phone and nods at her guard, who obediently leaves. Sasha, however, steps to my side, body full of tension. I don’t give a fuck that she became Team Rai overnight. The woman sitting opposite me is a threat that needs to be dealt with sooner rather than later.
Sasha’s lips part. “Boss—”
“What part of fucking leave do you not understand?” I don’t look at her as I cast the harsh command. I can feel her going rigid behind me, unease drifting off her in waves. When I lift my head, she nods at me and follows the other guard, but not before glancing at Rai.
As if she wants to warn her or something.
Sasha needs to be hit upside the head with a clear definition of loyalty and private lessons from Viktor.
“I didn’t realize we were close enough to sit for tea after breakfast, Kirill.” She sips her coffee and glares at me.
“We’re not. Fortunately.”
“Fortunately. So to what do I owe this honorable meeting?”
“I’ve been wondering.”
“About?”
“When are you going to tell Sergei and the others about what you saw?”
“What I saw?”
“In the club. You remember now, don’t you?”
“Oh, you mean your sexual preferences? I told you, I don’t want to use that against you unless you force my hand.”
“I’m forcing your hand, then.” I adjust my glasses with my middle finger. “Tell them.”
Her brow furrows in clear bemusement. “Why would you want me to tell them?”
“Don’t you want to destroy me? You have your chance, so fucking seize it.”
“No,” she says with force.
On one hand, I take this strong opposition as an indication that Rai probably never meant to use that bit of information and only wanted to hold it as ammunition.
On the other, being outed as gay would be the only way to protect Sasha’s real gender. If they know she’s a woman, she might get killed just for having the audacity to lie to the Pakhan.
Knowing her character, she’ll probably say I didn’t know, and I’ll get out of it unscathed, but I made an internal vow to protect her gender in the army until she’s comfortable revealing it herself.
So I glare at Rai. “I said. Do. It.”
“No, Kirill. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“If you don’t, I’ll kill your sister.”
She freezes and swallows, but she soon regains her composure. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Reina Ellis. Though she’s Reina Carson now, yes?”
She chokes on her mouthful of coffee, sending splashes flying all over the table. “How…”
“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out about her with you holding something over my head? You hid her well, but I have my ways.”
“Kirill,” she warns.
“She’s been married to her childhood sweetheart for seven years now, right? He’s a lawyer and works for his father’s firm. They also have a beautiful little boy who was named after your father. Should I start with the child first? Would that give you a good enough incentive?”
She lunges up, grabs her gun from her bag, and points it at my forehead. “I’ll spill your brains here and now.”
Checkmate.
After Rai caught me with Sasha, I made it my mission to have her followed wherever she went. That’s how I knew she has a twin sister that she barely keeps in touch with due to not wanting to drag her into our mafia affairs.
I’ve kept that secret for a long time, but today, I’ll make use of it.
“Kill me, and an unfortunate gas accident will blow up their house. And since it’s the weekend, they’re all home today. Can you picture the headlines talking about the tragic event?”
Her hand shakes until she’s barely holding the gun. “What the hell do you want?”
“I’ll pretend I know nothing about Reina’s existence if you tell the brotherhood about me.”
“Why don’t you come out yourself?”
“That’s none of your fucking business. Just do as you’re told.” I stand and button my jacket. “You have a day before the bomb goes off.”
Could be less, depending on how fast Viktor works.
I ignore her and the gun, then step out of the dining room. Sasha, who has been watching the door like a statue, falls in step beside me. “What happened in there?”
“None of your business.”
“I’m your senior guard. Your business is my business.”
“Not on this particular issue since you’re obviously a Rai convert and I don’t trust you to be unbiased.”
“She’s really not that bad.” Sasha leans over to whisper so only I can hear her, “She promised to keep your alleged homosexuality to herself.”
“Doubt it.”
“I mean it, Kirill.” She comes to an abrupt halt in front of me, forcing me to stop. “You need to give people some leeway sometimes.”
“I haven’t been given any, so why should anyone else benefit from it?”
Her expression softens, and her shoulders drop. “I’ve lost so, so much in my life. You have no idea how much. But I don’t think that just because I have nothing, no one else should.”
“You do you. I’ll do me.” I pause. “That sounds sexual. Are you up for it?”
She suppresses a smile. “Up for what?”
“You doing you and me doing me, preferably in front of each other and possibly at the same time to preserve energy. Or better yet, I can, say, do you.”
“How about I do you?”
“Not even in your wildest dreams.” I pause. “Do you want to do me? Is that a kink?”
“No.” She clears her throat. “I actually like not having to think about at least one thing in my life.”
“You just lie there and be a princess.”
She glares up. “I’m not a princess.”
“You’re the definition of a princess.”
“No, I’m not.”
“We’ll agree to disagree.”
“I’m just saying—”
I place a finger on her lips, then realizing we’re in a semi-public place, I let my hand fall to my side.
Fuck. If someone were passing by, they would get ideas.
I need to get better control of my need to touch her at all times.
“Don’t worry your pretty head about that, and start thinking about that pet name.”
“I already found one.”
I straighten. “Oh?”
“Yeah. It’s Luchik.”
“Another variation of the sun. Are you even putting in any effort?”
“I actually did, and this one is different. It’s sunray. As in, the only beam of light in the darkness.”
“Am I your beam of light in the darkness? Really?”
“I don’t know. Am I your sun?”
You are.
I almost say that out loud.
The worst part is that I believe it.
Fucking fuck. I’m truly and irrevocably fucking doomed.
