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The sun is peeking over the horizon, casting a golden glow around the room as Mishka and I breathe heavily in each other’s arms. My body’s exhausted, my muscles spent, and I’ve lost track of the number of orgasms he’s wrung from me tonight.
As we lie together, my ear resting over his strong heart, I let the contentment seep deep into my bones. This is right where I belong. I don’t care that it’s technically a school day. I can get notes from Katie because there’s no chance I’ll make it through a class after the night I had.
Instead, I want to take the time to fully appreciate how everything has worked out. Only one thing still weighs on me, and the longer I think about it, the more troubled I get.
“Something on your mind?” Mishka asks, always so effortlessly in tune with my thoughts.
Tracing the outline of his demon tattoo that spans his entire chest, I consider my words carefully as I try to say what’s troubling me. “I don’t want you to work for my father,” I say finally.
Mishka’s hand stills on my arm, and after a long moment, he tucks one arm behind his head so he can get a better look at me. As nervous as I am to have confessed it, I hesitate to look up at him. When I do, I find that signature frown creasing his brow.
“What do you mean?” he asks, and to my relief, I don’t detect any defensiveness or frustration, only confusion.
“After seeing just how much pain and trauma my family has caused, I don’t think I want to be involved in that business. And I don’t want to subject you to it, either. I want us to make a life of our own, away from all the crime and violence. I want to do something to make the world a better place. You could get a different job, one that doesn’t involve illegal activities, and I can follow my dream of being a vet.”
“I don’t think any job I would find with my limited skill set would pay very well,” Mishka admits.
“That’s okay. I don’t need a fancy life. I’ll be happy living modestly as long as I’m with you and we can provide for our baby.”
The warmth in Mishka’s smile is radiant. My heart flutters as his arms draw me closer, and he kisses me deeply.
“If that’s what you want, I’ll do anything to make you happy,” he promises. Then hesitation flickers across his face.
“What?” I ask, my stomach flip-flopping for an entirely different reason.
“It’s just… I’ve never known a Pakhan to let his men freely walk away from this life. And I’m hardly in your father’s good graces right now.” His lips press together in thought as he gives the statement time to sink in.
“You think he could kill you for trying to go?” I ask, breathless.
“It’s not entirely out of the range of possibilities. Your initial suggestion to run away might be more realistic.” His apologetic expression twists my heart.
Is he right?
I hadn’t realized Mishka might be trapped in his role for my father.
And if he is, that makes me want to remove him from the situation even more.
Before it’s too late.
40
MISHKA
Alina’s teeth sink into her lower lip as her eyes widen. “Really? Like, once you’re in, you’re in it for life?” she asks in horror.
I nod, bringing my hand up to caress her soft cheek. “People don’t join Bratvas because they have a solid vision of a retirement plan.”
“But then, how come my father doesn’t have any men who are, like, eighty? He took over the family business, and my grandpa definitely had men older than my father.”
My heart squeezes at Alina’s innocence. I suppose I can be grateful to Sergio for shielding her from the ugly truth. I don’t doubt that’s gone a long way toward making her the compassionate person she is.
“The average life of a common soldier isn’t overly long. Maybe the captains can make it past middle age. And sure, a few of them might manage to earn retirement. But it’s a risky business full of dark secrets and illegal activity. Most men eventually end up dead or behind bars.”
“And even knowing that, you joined a Bratva?” she demands, leaning up on an elbow to look at me in shock.
I shrug. “I kind of fell into the first one. When you’re starving on the streets, a steady income looks very tempting, regardless of the source. And to be honest, when I joined the Sakharovs, I didn’t anticipate getting out of your father’s Bratva alive. The long game was never on my mind because, typically, people who kill powerful Pakhans like your father don’t survive.”
“You’re an idiot, Mishka Orlov,” she snaps. “You know that?”
