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I was raised by the pakhan, Luka’s father.
He’d brought me over to the US. He saw something in me, a spark that no one else had cared to notice. A lost boy fighting in grimy alleys for a fistful of dollars to feed my family. My father’s drunken rages, my mother’s hollow eyes…they drove me to the edge. But Luka’s father, the pakhan, he pulled me back. He saw something in me no one else did.
Aleks took that from me. He killed the pakhan, killed the only father I’d ever known.
“I know you’re angry, Dimitri, but we have to be careful. We can’t let emotion cloud our judgment.” Erik’s voice breaks through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present.
“Emotion?” I snort. “This is not about emotion. This is personal. It’s about loyalty, about honor. Aleks will die by our hands tomorrow. That’s a fucking guarantee.”
I can’t shake the image of her from my mind. I’m back in my room now, a place of steel and shadow, the walls lined with weapons, a dark sanctuary that’s mine and mine alone. The air smells of gun oil and leather, mixed with the underlying scent of sweat from countless hours of training. But even here, in my private fortress, she invades my thoughts.
I rip off my shirt, the fabric tearing as I throw it across the room. It lands in a crumpled heap next to a stack of cash and ammo. The frustration is eating at me, and I need to get it out. My punching bag is there, waiting, and I attack it with everything I’ve got. Each punch is an explosion, a release, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.
My body’s a traitor, a fucking bastard that doesn’t care about anything but its own desires. I storm to the shower, ripping off my jeans, my cock already hard and aching. It’s a torment, a thick and veined monster that hasn’t reacted like this in a long damn time. The sight of it, pulsing with need, the head shiny with pre-cum, has me snarling with frustration.
I turn the shower on, cold as ice, and the freezing spray hits my back, but it does nothing to quench the fire raging inside me. My cock throbs, aching for release, and my balls pull tight against my body as the desire surges through me. Every part of me is alive, on fire, and it’s all because of her.
I grab my length, squeezing hard, trying to force the images from my mind. But it’s no use. The thoughts of her, untamed and fearless, covered in blood and brandishing a knife, are burned into my brain. She’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and my body reacts to her with a primal need that scares me to my core.
The fantasies are filthy and consuming, so raw and real that I can almost taste her. I imagine her lips, not the fake ones from earlier but her real, sinfully plump lips, sliding down my cock, inch by brutal inch. Her tongue would be skilled, fearless, tracing the veins on my shaft, tasting the pre-cum leaking from the tip.
I’d shove myself into her mouth, fucking her throat without mercy, feeling her gag on me, hearing the sounds of her choking and still pushing deeper. Her tits would bounce fiercely with each thrust, her nipples hard and begging for my touch. But it’s her mouth I’m obsessed with, her mouth that’s covered in blood and I don’t give a shit. I just keep pounding her face, balls deep, holding her head and using her for my pleasure.
I pump my cock, stroking it as hard as I can and imagining her gagging. With a guttural grunt, my hips jerk uncontrollably as I explode, my cum shooting out in thick ropes, splattering against my stomach and the shower wall. There’s no poetry in it, no romance, just the pure, primal satisfaction of a need fulfilled. I gasp for breath, my heart pounding in my chest as I turn the heat up in the shower. I wash myself off, scrubbing at my skin like I can somehow erase the filth of my thoughts.
Chapter 61
Sophia
LUKA’S MANSION’S gone through a total makeover, and it feels like I’m trapped in some over-the-top reality TV show. Giant golden balloons are everywhere, chandeliers dripping with crystals, and there’s enough glitter on everything to make me squint. The maids are running around with golden swags and potted plants, turning the garden into something out of a fairy tale.
“Watch where you’re going!” one of them barks at me as I almost send a ladder crashing down.
“Sorry!” I yell back, faking the frantic energy in the room. It’s chaos in here, and all I want to do is get through the day without getting run over.
But there’s a storm in my head, a chaos I can’t escape. I’m walking a tightrope, and one slip could ruin everything. Like tipping off Anya about today’s plan? That fear gnaws at me.
My palms are sweaty, my heart’s racing, but I can’t let anyone see that. I scan the room, looking for Anya, but she’s vanished.
What’s she up to?
Luka’s words are a blunt reminder: “Act like normal, krasotka. Anya’s not just in the kitchen, she’s watching. If she gets to you, make sure Aleks doesn’t know what we’re planning. Understand? That asshole cannot know that we’re preparing for him.”
Normal? There’s nothing normal about any of this.
Once, I was a puppet on Aleks’s string, living every second with a lump in my throat, never knowing when he’d yank it tight.
Then came the whole “fake” nanny gig. And what do you know? I fall for Yulia like she’s the kid sister I never had.
And Luka, that infuriatingly irresistible man, somehow sneaks past all my defenses. Now I’m carrying his child.
How the hell did I get here?
I find my hand drifting to my belly, where Luka’s were just last night, those dark and dangerous eyes burning into mine. The guy looked like hell, but still managed to be painfully sexy. I wanted him to stay with me, to make everything seem okay, just for a little while.
But he left, lips on mine, and a quick, “We need to keep things as they are right now. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
I bite my lip, feeling a sudden wave of nausea followed by panic. Then Luka’s voice comes back to me, deep and reassuring, “You are part of us now; you are one of the Ivankov.”
