I turn, my voice calm once more as I head back to my seat. “Now that we’ve settled that, let’s get on with the meeting.”At eight o’clock sharp,I toss my bag into the backseat of the car, the weight of the day pressing against my shoulders. It’s a typical New York evening—traffic clogging every inch of the FDR, slowing me down as I navigate through the endless sea of brake lights. I grip the steering wheel harder than usual, my mind circling back to Ana.I asked Yelena to give her the flowers. Red and white carnations.Love and admiration.My chest tightens as I pull into the driveway. I could have chosen roses, something simple, but no—I had to be difficult. I’d chosen carnations, flowers thatmeantsomething, and I don’t even know if Ana is the type to care about that kind of thing.What’s worse, I’d allowed Yelena to lie and say the flowers were from her.The door swings open, and I step into the quiet foyer, the scent of freshly popped popcorn drifting from the living room. My feet
ANADaria’s face says it all as I approach her desk.Great. Just great.“Let me guess, he’s pulled another disappearing act?” I ask, my heart sinking. I thought giving Papa some space would make him miss me, but apparently his ego’s gotten so big it’s pushed out any paternal feelings. At this rate, I’ll be collecting social security before he decides to grace me with his presence.Daria shakes her head, oozing sympathy. “Sorry, hon. I wouldn’t hold your breath waiting. You know how he gets.”My shoulders slump like they’re trying to touch the floor. “Right. Because heaven forbid Nikolai Petrov face his only daughter.” A spark of defiance flares up. “Maybe I should just camp out here. He can’t ignore me forever, can he?”I see the pity in Daria’s eyes as she offers me a chair. “If you think it’ll work. Or I could tell you where he is. If you’re feeling brave enough to make a scene?—”“No, no,” I cut her off, shaking my head so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t fall off. “Can’t embarrass th
I shrug. “I went to see my father, then I went to see my mom, and I didn’t want to come back here because I hate this place. So, I went to a bar. And I drank.” My lips stretch into a lopsided grin. “It was so much fun.”Dmitri runs his fingers through his hair. “How did you get home, then?”How did I get home?I scratch my head, trying to remember the details, but all I feel is this warm, fuzzy feeling in my head. Like I’m floating on clouds but not quite.“Where’s your car?” he prompts.“Ah!” I smack my temple as I remember. “I drove. Slowly,” I drag out the last word, “because I didn’t want to get into an accident. Yeah. I drove here.”Panic rushes into Dmitri’s eyes for a split second, then he races past me. Seconds later, I hear the door open and slam shut.I pout.What’s his problem?He’s sure acting strange tonight.You’re my wife. No other reason.Who says something like that? I scoff as he rushes back into the living room, taking me by surprise when he grabs my shoulders.“Why
DMITRII guide Ana onto the yacht’s deck, my grip firm on her hand. “Watch your step,” I warn, my voice low and commanding. I’m not used to being gentle, but with her, I find myself adjusting.Her midnight blue dress ripples in the breeze, a stark contrast to the white of the yacht. She moves with a grace that reminds me she’s no stranger to luxury. Of course, she isn’t, she’s Nikolai Petrov’s daughter.“I’m not going to fall,” she laughs softly. “This isn’t my first time on a yacht.”“I know,” I respond curtly, reminding myself of who she is, who I am. This isn’t a fairytale romance, it’s a strategic move. At least, that was the idea.I survey the deck, noting the scattered carnation petals with satisfaction. Everything is precisely as I ordered. I’m a man who demands perfection, even in this.“Carnations?” Ana asks, her voice tinged with surprise.I nod, keeping my face impassive. “Red and white. I assumed you’d had your fill of roses.”A small smile plays on her lips. “You assumed
Fear? Excitement?Both work in my favor.Without warning, I seize her, pulling her against me. She gasps, her nails digging into my chest.I crush my lips to hers, devouring, possessing. A primal sound tears from my throat as I break away, my control slipping for a dangerous second.Ana isn’t just warmth; she’s third-degree burns. Our mouths clash again, a battle for dominance that I have no intention of losing. She yields, opening to me, and I push forward, claiming what’s mine.In this moment, I’m not just taking Ana. I’m conquering my own weakness, turning it into strength. She may have softened my heart, but I’ll use that to make myself more formidable than ever.Dmitri Orlov doesn’t fall in love.He takes what he wants and makes it his own.I can feel her nails as she grabs my shoulders to steady herself against me. Her body is soft, slipping across the fabric of my clothes as I pull her in.“There’s something about kissing you. I don’t know what it is, but I want to keep doing i
ANAI take Dmitri’s hand as I climb out of the limo, trying not to faceplant in these ridiculous heels. Nothing says “Bratva wife” like eating pavement at a fancy party, right?The night air hits me, and I resist the urge to shiver. Next time I’m bringing a jacket. Or better yet, staying home with Netflix and sweatpants.Dmitri insisted on being “fashionably late,” which I’m pretty sure is code for “I wanted to make an entrance.” I half expect a spotlight to shine on us as we cross the street.He offers me his arm like we’re in some period drama.Who is this guy, and what has he done with my usually detached husband?I take it anyway, because hey, if he’s playing nice, I might as well enjoy it while it lasts.The security outside looks like they eat steroids for breakfast. Their suits are probably bulletproof too, unlike my flimsy dress.Dmitri doesn’t need to show an invite. Of course, he doesn’t. He probably owns half the city by now. He gestures for me to enter first, all gentleman
DMITRII find Igor Pavlov waiting in my office like an uninvited pest. His attempt at a disarming smile only serves to fuel my irritation. The audacity of this man never ceases to amaze me.“What are you doing here, Igor?” I ask, my voice a cold blade.He stammers out some excuse about the casino project. How quaint. I let him squirm for a full minute before acknowledging him, savoring his discomfort like a fine wine.Igor launches into his concerns about profits and timelines. Little does he know, those casinos were never his to begin with. The fool signed away his empire without even realizing it. It would almost be pitiful if it weren’t so satisfying.“Everything takes time,” I say, feeding him just enough truth to keep him complacent. “There were...complications with the previous owners.”I watch realization dawns on his face. He truly had no idea what he was getting into. It’s almost too easy.The conversation shifts to the sultan’s party. Igor’s curiosity is palpable, tinged wit
ANAPicture this: me, standing in the airport like a human billboard, holding a sign over my head that says “Welcome back, favorite brother!” Because nothing says, “I missed you” more than potential shoulder strain, right?I spot Viktor emerging from behind what looks like the entire inventory of a luggage store. He sees my sign and starts laughing.I drop the sign and run toward him, nearly taking out a few innocent bystanders in the process. We collide in a hug that’s part bear, part octopus, and all awkward public display of affection.“Viktor!” I squeak, probably sounding more like an excited chipmunk than a dignified adult. “Welcome back to the land of the free and home of the Bratva!”He kisses the top of my head, which is sweet but also reminds me that I’ll always be the baby sister. “Your face makes it worth returning to this country,” he says, ever the charmer.As we pull apart, he looks me up and down. “You’ve grown! What are you now, eighteen?”I roll my eyes so hard, I’m s
I never considered myself a saint, but growing up, a part of me hated it when Jayden called the Lord’s name in vain. I was uncomfortable with anyone doing it, and because it felt wrong, it made the hairs on my neck rise, so I’d caution him. But now, I felt nothing but satisfaction as I watched Timur—not hate or caution…justsatisfaction.His gaze faltered, and he leaned against the wall, tugged down the zipper of his pants, and—in a blinding flash—he pulled out his—“Put a finger in your pussy for me,Pchelka.”I couldn’t concentrate, not when he offered me a full big-screen-worthy view of watching him wrap his hand around his veiny hard-on.“Serena.” His commanding voice and the huskiness, combined with the sound of my name, brought me back to focus.On its own accord, my finger moved towhere I badly ached for him, and, like the first time, I slipped inside through my slickness. An involuntary moan left my lips, and my eyes fluttered, but he didn’t even give me a chance.“Eyes on me.”
Through my reflection in the mirror, I watched my cheeks flush a deeper shade of scarlet, and my body tingled in excitement. I didn’t even know when I laughed out loud.What are you thinking, Serena?And yet, despite the million and one reasons I had to desist from taking any step closer to the bed, one reason posed to be the most convincing, forcing me to abandon thoughts about right and wrong until I lay my back on the soft mattress, spread-eagle style:I missed him.“Oh, Serena.” I heard the nerves in my voice and pinned my eyes to the smooth ceiling above me.Clutching the sheets with one hand in a vise grip, I spread my legs wider. The cold air hit my skin, causing goosebumps to rise, and I turned toward the window, only realizing now that a rainstorm had picked up outside. I should have shaken off the stupid idea that brought me to the bed in the first place, got on my feet, and moved to close the shutters. Instead, I pulled the bed covers over my legs and lowered my back into t
SerenaFingering the hem of my dress, I stared at the soft fabric and looked back at the mirror. Blue eyes met mine, golden hair poured below fair shoulders, and I blurred out the image of soft curves and bare hips.Countless times, especially in high school, I’d been called a prude.It wasn’t true. Or maybe it was. I didn’t squeal or gush over pictures of slippery hard abs or full naked men as they did or swooned over R-18 magazines they snuck into class. I couldn’t remember ever being a big fan of nudity, not even where I was concerned. I just didn’t know how to…reactto provocative images or thoughts.Sad, but needless to say, it contributed a lot to my not having many friends.I shook my head in an attempt to get rid of the distracting thoughts. Then, I stared again at the mirror.Throughout everything I’d been through in recent times, I was still me. I was the same person who watched her parents break apart, the same girl who had to step into the shoes of both parents to cater to
TimurThe dreams should have been the first sign. After I noticed that they’d been gone for more than a week, I should have known. Thinking about it now, I almost couldn’t remember the artistic red splash on the wall or the face that owned those lifeless eyes. A new kind of nightmare haunted me. This one was a living nightmare, with perfect lips, perky tits, blonde hair, and blue eyes. Saying I was screwed wasn’t even going to cut it.Fuckedbetter suited the context, and it wasn’t helping that I suddenly remembered Nikolai’s question.Why didn’t I sell her off, leave her in the sea of sharks to feast on? Then, I wouldn’t have to deal with fighting off the provocative images and sounds from my mind that I’d practically guided her to plant there. Her well-being wouldn’t be my fucking business; none of her would concern me. But simply, the thought sent a violent fire that spread up my back, forcing me to straighten up on the chair.My gaze on the desk hardened, and I directed my anger tow
The mirth in his eyes disappeared, replaced by an inferno of undiluted desire. Without looking at me, he recited the third piece of our own secret mantra.“Have me.”The tip of his veiny erection—which was very hard and big—rubbed against my sex before easing into me. My eyes fell shut, shock waves rolling down my body as I tensed, my walls clamping around him.“Fuck…” he cursed, a smooth roll of Russian pouring from between his lips. Almost resisting him, I clenched down on him so tightly, struggling to adjust to his full size, and his jaw flexed. He caressed my bare ass, muttering incoherently in his foreign accent while he squeezed gently.Finally, with gritted teeth and holding back a drop of tears, I relaxed.He watched me, his eyes boring deep into my soul as we moved together. I felt my world shift. I was aware of every gasp, every sigh, every flicker of pleasure that danced between us. I surrendered to the fire that burned brightly within, trusting him to guide me through the
He was all man and no emotions, with a very inviting chest, a chiseled torso, and a mouth that held back nothing. Whenever Jayden cursed, it sounded dirty, but the same words pouring out from this man sent tingles to my toes.Nodding, I gulped. “I understand.”“Want me.” His fingers brushed my cheeks so lightly as his eyes stared into the depth of my soul. “Have me. Need me.Those are the only things I want you to think about. I’ll handle the rest.”Want me.Have me.Need me.I was already breathing fast, and my clothes were still on.This moment between us reminded me of the first time I had welcomed the sixth graders to class. Only now, he felt like the teacher and I, the new student. And this was like class.He was going to handle the rest, he said. All I had to do was immerse myself in the waves of tumultuous passion for thisman, whose gaze licked the length of my body as though it were a delicious lollipop.“Are you okay now?”Startled, I looked back at him, rattled on my rocker t
Then, the moment came.As his lips brushed softly against mine, the kiss was gentle, almost reverent. In that fleeting moment, I felt the wallsof my heart begin to crack, and I wasn’t sure at the time, but something in me wanted more.****We went into the house at separate times for a quick shower and a change into something smoother. Klavdia practically had to force me out of the room when all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep the rest of my life away.He had some of his people set up and organize one of the large halls in the house to be decorated. Before now, I didn’t even know such a chamber existed in the same building, and slowly, it started to sink in, what Klavdia said about being the lady “…of all of this.”I could hardly believe it as I stepped into the grand ballroom. It was jaw-dropping magnificent. The air was thick with the intoxicating blend of expensive cologne and the sweet aroma of floral arrangements. Russian laughter—if there ever was such a thing—and mu
SerenaI didn’t like it.Not the dress, the tears. They just kept rolling freely, and Klavdia had already warned me to wipe them off and not ruin my makeup. Somehow, she reminded me of my grandmother. She died of a stroke when I was six. I didn’t remember much abouther except that she was low-key stuck-up, had long white hair, and never smiled. And she gave great advice, like telling a six-year-old, “Whatever you do, don’t get knocked up before you get married.”Needless to say, years later, I didn’t have to do much to follow that advice.Klavdia seemed like the type, too, but I doubted that we’d ever get to the stage where we’d share bits and pieces of our lives over cups of tea and biscuits, and I’d get to know if she had grandchildren.She also said I wasn’t supposed to let mysoon-to-be husbandsee it. He’d already made it very clear that he found tears sickening.Carefully dabbing the tears off under my eyes, I fixed my mascara and eyeliner, aiming to reappear brand new, like a gif
TimurThe air buzzed with the familiar energy of drunkenness, wasted lives, and ecstasy.The club lights pulsed low, a hum settling over the crowd as we made our way through the reserved spot with “VIPs ONLY” dangling beside the plush red ropes. The place was high-end and sleek in design, with black marble, plush leather seats, and a bar that stretched half the length of the room. Neon blue lights traced along the walls, flashing a glow that glinted off the glassware and tinted everything a cool, metallic hue.One of Rafayel’s contacts owned the club.I nodded, assessing the bubbling life. Not bad.My brother’s laugh cut through the bass-heavy music, and I turned in time to see him share a handshake with Arlo, both of them already in high spirits. I didn’t need either of them to tell me; they’d probably made some stupid bet on something I wasn’t going to bother myself about.Nikolai followed close, his gaze scanning the room—a man with more restraint these days, but still, he’d undoub