Now I’m more amused than annoyed. The night they married, Rico’s little kitty convinced him to buy a brand-new bed so they could consummate their marriage on unstained sheets. Forever under the thumb, Rico did exactly that. The amount he paid to have their mattress delivered before they arrived from The Little White Chapel they wed at was highway robbery. But from the stories I’ve heard, he got his money’s worth and then some.
Although Rico officially "died" four years ago, his room still sits the same as the day he left to uphold a promise he had made to Blaire months earlier. I knew possessions would never bring him back, but I couldn't forget him as quickly as Vladimir did.
Vladimir didn't even attend Rico’s funeral. He was his first-born son, yet he dishonored his life as if he were nothing more than a gofer. In a way, it was a godsend. Vladimir’s lack of empathy freed me from giving him a proper send-off when he fell victim to my knife. He was cremated in the house he was killed in, forgotten as quickly as he disregarded the years of torture Rico and I suffered under his reign.
Vladimir was born as a king, but he died a pauper. His name has not been uttered in my presence since his death. And if I have it my way, it will never be mentioned again. He haunted me relentlessly when he was alive, and I refuse to let him continue the torture after his death.
Annoyed by my thoughts straying, I get back to the task at hand. “Have the men traveling with Justine and me ready to move by this evening. I want to touch down in Hopeton before sun-up because every man knows a devil has never see the sun rise.”
Trey nods. “Who do you want at the helm while we’re gone? Zoran has shown great improvement since Andros gifted him to us. He still has a long way to go, but it might smarten him up a little.”
A dusting of dark hair falls into my eyes when I shake my head. “Zoran is a good kid, but he doesn’t have the balls needed for our line of work. I need a man who will kill without thought. One who will never second-guess any decisions I make. I need a man as ruthless and as brutal as me, while also understanding my greatest asset has blood running through her veins, not white powder, lead, or liquid gold.”
Trey looks stumped on who could fulfill my requirements. . . until I murmur, “I need you to cover me while I’m gone, Trey, to keep our ship on course.”
“I can’t. That’s not allowed.” He cocks his head to the side as his brow arches. “I’m British not Russian.”
I laugh as if his thick accent and pasty white skin weren’t already key factors in his reply. “I’m well aware of your heritage. It’s one of the reasons I made you my number two guy.”
He straightens his dark shirt as if he is wearing a suit. “And here I was thinking it was because of my roguishly handsome face.”
I lower my chin, barely concealing my smirk. Although now isn’t the time to act heedless, I can appreciate his attempt to stifle the tension thickening the air.
Once the pompous grin on Trey’s face fades, I say, “I need someone I can trust. We’re still on unsolid ground since Alexei’s death. If we’re blindsided by a second takeover bid, I need someone at the helm who’ll maintain control. I trust that man is you, Trey.”
Trey remains quiet. He’ll never openly admit it, but my rare commendation was as shocking for him to hear as it was for me to deliver it. I respect and trust him—he wouldn’t be my number two guy if I didn’t—but the rules he speaks of are well known in our industry. The Popov entity has never been left in the hands of a non-Russian. This is as controversial as Rico and me banding together to kill the matriarch of our sanction. It is unheard of.
I nod when Trey asks, “Are you sure this is what you want, Nikolai?”
I don't appreciate him questioning me, but only a fool would take this position without some hesitation.
"It is only for a few days. I'm certain even avyperduschlike you won’t fuck things up that quickly.”
“Ah, you make my heart tingle with your sweet words.”
I toss the letter opener on my desk in his direction, smirking when it nicks his neck hard enough a trickle of blood can be seen. I wasn’t even aiming, yet I still hit my mark.
While Trey tends to his wound, I stand to my feet. “Offer for Rico to travel with Justine and me, but warn him I’m traveling heavy. His little kitty might faint when she sees how things truly operate in our industry.”
Trey gives me a look as if to sayand Justine won’t?
“Myahrenwas born to lead. She doesn’t kneel for anyone.” My smirk finalizes the rest of my sentence:except me.
Leaving Trey to string together my demands as specified, I make my way to the room I've shared with Justine the past twelve months. She’s bunked with me since the day I saved her from the hell I was tortured in twelve years ago.
Unlike my wish for her to birth my child, we never discussed sharing residences as we got to know one another. Our relationship has been full steam ahead since the day we met, so why would a small detail such as an address on a driver's license change that? Justine became mine the instant I took her on the couch I claimed her ass on last night.
Nothing willeverchange that.
The scent of the bath oils slicking Justine’s skin lingers in my nose when I enter our room. She’s sleeping peacefully in the bed I placed her in after I bathed her last night. Although she was a very willing participant in our exchange, I know her willingness to submit didn’t come without pain.
I’ve been prepping her ass for months, but fingers, anal beads, and butt plugs can’t replicate the size of my cock when it’s on the hunt. He was even thicker last night, Justine’s eagerness to please me adding to his girth.
“Ahren.”
I track my hand down Justine’s silky red hair before rolling my fingertip over a dog bite on the back of her shoulder. I’m not sure she’s aware of this one’s existence. It isn’t in a place she can see without being a contortionist, and she doesn’t readily cover it as she does the others. If she did, I wouldn’t have noticed it when I pinned her to the door of her apartment within a minute of the sheriffs leaving us alone.
I don’t know what it is about Justine’s scars, but I can’t get enough of them. They show how strong she is, that she can walk through the gates of hell and come out the other end stronger, but I see more than that when I look at them. They reveal she’s a fighter, a woman above the greatest man. But more than anything, they show that perfection comes in all shapes and styles.
