“So the rumors are true? You now travel with your whores instead of fucking them and dumping them as you usually do?” She locks her narrowed eyes with Justine before sneering, “Don’t get comfy, Sugar. He’ll palm you off to his understudies within a week.” She drags her eyes down Justine’s frozen frame. “Ifyou’re lucky.”
My hand naturally rises to backhand the sneer from her face, but something stops me. I want to pretend it is because I’m an improved man who no longer sees women in two categories: whores and housemaids, but that isn’t the case. Years of bad guidance can’t be undone in twelve months. Justine is responsible for extinguishing my retaliation, not a new moral compass.
“Did you hear what happened to the last woman who disrespected me?” My blood thickens from the sheer confidence in Justine’s tone. My queen is ruling her empire, her stance strong and hardened by jealousy.
The blonde shakes her head, the fire in her eyes doused by Justine’s fury.
With a smirk, Justine says, “Exactly. No one knows what happened to her. Not even Nikolai.” She whispers her last three words, highlighting their threat.
The blonde scoffs, unsure if Justine is being honest but before she can voice her uncertainly, Justine warns, “Unless you want to take her place in my story, I suggest you climb aboard your broomstick and leave.”
Her tone is calm and unwavering. The same can’t be said for the blonde’s thighs. Her eyes widen as they dance between Justine’s to gauge the authenticity of her threat.
She reaches her decision quickly. Her dash through the men hovering close to watch the spectacle unfold causes her to bump shoulders with Justine. This isn’t the first time my men have watched women go to war over me, but it is the first time I haven’t sat back and enjoyed the show with them.
With Justine’s attention rapt on the blonde, she fails to notice the dip of my chin to a member of my crew. Justine might be willing to let the blonde’s disrespect slide, but I’m not as inclined to issue her a pardon. Her punishment will ensure the Popov entity isn’t the only association aware of the repercussions of disrespecting myahren.
I wait for Justine and Roman to join me in the middle car in a fleet of three before locking my eyes with Justine. My cock braces against the zipper of my jeans, the leadership in her eyes too invigorating not to respond to.
“Soon, Nikolai. Very soon,” Justine says in Russian, hardening my dick even more.
With a pleased smirk, she shifts her focus to the scenery whizzing by the window. I take in an equally pleasing sight. My eyes don’t focus on the hues of orange and yellow dancing across sandy meadows, though. I peruse something much brighter and more dazzling than the sun’s slow rise. I have my sights on my queen—the woman gifting me a direct descendant to the empire we’re ruling side by side. A son as strong as his father and as smart as his mother. My urge to protect Justine has always been obsessive, but now it will be downright manic.
Our trip from a private airstrip in Hopeton to Justine’s parents’ house is short. Before Maddox’s arrest, the Walshes had a large, sprawling family home in an oceanic town not far from here. But with legal expenses beyond their means and a willingness to give up everything to see one of their own freed, their family home was sold, and they downgraded to a modest four-bedroom property four miles from the airport.
The only benefit of their downsize was an increase in property. My men have used its vast span to create a safe yet amicable barricade around their home, hopefully keeping both their neighbors and law enforcement officers off our radar.
“Wait for my men,Ahren,” I demand when Justine’s hand curls around the door handle the instant our car comes to a stop at the front of a set of dark stairs.
Her nose screws up, but she nods all the same. The dozen armed guards we’re traveling with aren’t here for me. I can take care of myself. They are here for Justine. Their orders are simple: use any means necessary to keep her safe. Shoot to kill, then take names for later retaliation. Alexei’s son, Tristan, lost his life when he sided with the wrong team during Justine’s kidnapping. Any fool stupid enough to go against me again will suffer the same fate.
Once my men have cleared the area, I give Justine permission to leave our SUV. Her feet landing on a rickety porch coincides with an entranceway light being switched on. With details of our arrival on the downlow, her family knew of her return today, but they had no clue it would occur before dawn.
“I haven’t seen you up this early since you attempted to sneak Brax back into your eighteenth birthday party.”
My eyes rocket to Justine’s as quickly as hers dart to mine. She gives me aplease be patientlook before greeting the man standing behind the cracked open screen door with a hug. If I hadn’t recognized the murky blue eyes glaring at me from beneath lowered lashes, I would have had my knife pressed to his jugular before he got within an inch of Justine. Fortunately for him, he is her older brother, the gatekeeper when it comes to anything involving Justine or her family. He’s Landon Walsh: dedicated pilot, all-round sportsman, and fucking thorn in my backside the past twelve months.
When Justine presses her lips to Landon’s ear, the knife in my pocket grows heavy. Brother or not, Justine is mine and only mine. You either learn that fast, or I’ll beat it into you.
“Unless you want Brax to lose the ability to breathe, I suggest you remain quiet about him—”
“Or if you don’t want to be tortured, speak up. I’m traveling light, meaning I’m without my instruments of choice, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get inventive,” I interrupt, my tone not as playful as I was aiming for.
I know Justine has a past. I fuckin’ hate it, but I entered our relationship with more than my share of baggage, so I can’t expect her to have none. As long as Brax is a thing of the past, I have no issues with him.Mostly.
“Nikolai,” Roman grumbles only loud enough for me to hear when he spots my second silent demand for the night. “Let it go.”
His glare says more than his words ever will. He voiced numerous concerns about my quest to rid the world of the insolent men who bid on Justine, so he won’t remain quiet when my focus shifts to a man whose only crime is associating with Justine long before I entered the equation.
When Diak seeks further instructions, I reluctantly shake my head. Brax should consider himself lucky I’m traveling with Roman instead of Trey. If Trey were my moral compass this week, Brax would already be chewing on his intestines.
“He’s joking.” Justine’s pleading eyes stray to mine. “Aren’t you, Nikolai?”
“Of course.” My voice reveals I’m full of shit, but it weakens the deep groove between Justine’s brows. “Nikolai. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Yep, that sounded as awkward as you’d expect. I’m not ameet and greet with a handshaketype of guy. If you don’t already know who I am, it won’t take you long to discover I’m not made out of rainbows and sunshine. Landon discovered that fact firsthand nearly a year ago.
The sour expression on Landon’s face reveals he’s still harboring issues about our last tussle over his sister, but he’s not eager to bring it up. I won our battle back then, and he knows I’ll win the second, third, or however many fucking times it takes him to get the hint that I’m not going anywhere. A thousand men couldn’t keep me from Justine, so what chance does one man have?
