All Chapters of The Mafia King’s Pawn: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

“Then why do you want it so badly? Just because of your promise to yourfather?”“It was a deathbed vow...” He stopped. He’d told himself that same liefor years, but here in the darkness, lying in bed beside her, he couldn’t tell itagain. “Because I don’t want Andrei to have it. He doesn’t deserve ahome. Or a brother.”“What about you?” Lyra said softly. “What do you deserve?”Viktor looked away from her, towards his briefcase, which lookeddistinctly out of place in the corner of the tent. “Exactly what I will get,” hesaid. Retribution against his brother and the Mata Hari who’d caused theirrift. Total ownership of both Andreevich Mining and Southern Cross. Thatwould make him happy. Give him peace.It would. It had to. Looking at her shadowy form in the darkness, heturned the question back on her. “What will you do? With your life?”“I don’t know.” She swallowed. “Illyra always talked about sending me tocollege, but even if we had the money, I’m not sure that’s what I want.”

Her lips were tentative, scared. Until she felt his mouth, hot and hard against hers, sliding like liquid silk as he kissed her back. He deepened the embrace, entwining her tongue with his. He tasted like sweet wine and spice and everything forbidden, everything she’d ever denied herself. His lips were soft and hard at once, like satin with steel. He let her set the rhythm and pace, let her lead.And she forgot her fear. Her hands explored the warm, smooth skin of his hard chest, the edges and curves of his muscles. She stroked his flat nipples and the rough, bristly hair that stretched down his taut torso like an arrow. She heard his ragged intake of breath, and when she glanced up and saw his mesmerized expression, her confidence leaped. It was working! Growing bolder, she ran her fingertips beneath the edge of his waistband, swaying her splayed body against the thick hardness between his legs.She’d meant it as an exploration. He took it as a taunt. With a growl, he pushed her back

Two days later, Lyra stared up at him with consternation. “You have to bejoking.”“Come on,” Viktor wheedled, holding out his hand beneath the hotafternoon sunshine. “You said you wanted to do it.”Glancing back at the tallest sand dune, she licked her lips. “I said itlooked fun in theory.”“You know you want to.” Wind ruffled his tousled black hair as he smileddown at her. He was casually dressed, in a well-worn black T-shirt thathugged his muscular chest and large, taut biceps and low-slung jeans on his hips. He looked relaxed and younger than she’d ever seen him. He lifted adark eyebrow wickedly. “You’re not scared, are you?”Lyra licked her lips. When he looked at her with that mischievous smile,he made her want to agree to absolutely anything.But—this?Furrowing her brow, she looked behind her. Three young Berber boys,around twelve or thirteen years old, were using brightly colored snowboardsto careen down the sand, whooping and hollering in Berber, the primarylanguage

There would be no seduction. Instead, from this night forward, she’d besleeping alone in a separate tent.Once, Lyra would have been relieved.But now...Numbly, she rose from their bed. Grabbing her backpack, she started togather her clothes. Then she stopped, looking around the tent. Viktoralways dumped everything on the floor, in that careless masculine way,knowing it was someone else’s job to follow after him and tidy up. Lookingacross the luxurious carpets piled thickly across the sand, Lyra’s eyes couldsee the entirety of her husband’s day: the empty water bucket of solid silver.The hand-crafted sandalwood soap. His crumpled pajama pants. And in acorner, his black leather briefcase, so stuffed with papers that it could nolonger be closed, none of which he’d glanced at even once since the daythey’d arrived here.In the distance, she heard a sound like rolling thunder.Tears rose to her eyes, and she wiped them away fiercely. She didn’t wantto leave him. This was the pl

Andrei left a trail of sand and water as he crossed the floor of their bedroom, then gently lowered Illyra to her feet beside the bed.Neither of them spoke. Almost holding his breath, he slowly stroked down her soft arms to her slender waist. He undid the silken tie of her robe. Never taking his eyes from hers, he peeled the wet, translucent silk off her shoulders and dropped it to the floor.She now stood before him naked and beautiful, her eyes luminous in the moonlight. Looking at her, this sensual angel, Andrei trembled, racked with desires both sacred and profane.He’d taken her virginity. He couldn’t undo that.But he could change her memory of it. He could make it better than the last time. Pulling her naked body into his arms, against his bare chest, he cupped the back of her head, tangling his hands in her long wet hair, and lowered his mouth to hers.This time, without so much anger and prejudice in his heart, he finally felt her inexperience, the way she held her breath a