Now it’s time for me to emulate his triumph.
Don’t misconstrue. I don’t want nor need a queen. He can also keep the mini versions of himself that scream all hours of the day and night, but the crown—I want that. I deserve that. And I’m going to do everything in my power to get that.
There’s just one difference between Nikolai’s takeover bid and mine. I don’t need to kill my father to rule my realm. He already has one foot in the grave. He’s so close to death, I’m certain the Grim Reaper is at his bedside, waiting for the inevitable. I’ve just got to play my cards right, to exert patience. In general, patience isn’t something I have in abundance, but when it stands between me and everything I’ve ever wished for, you can be assured I have it in spades.
Until then, I’ve got plenty of other matters to occupy my time. Revenge waits for no man—except the one hunting the culprits responsible for his turmoil. It’s been twelve months since my girlfriend, Dominique, was killed. Despite the delay, I knew one day I would get my revenge. Sooner or later, everyone meets their maker. Today is that day.
Dominique may have been a whore gifted to me by Nikolai, but she was still mine—as is my right for vengeance. Her death was quick, but those responsible will suffer her loss for years to come. You cannot dupe the man who owns you and not expect to pay for your stupidity. Her death will be avenged no matter how high the collateral.
While climbing down the stairs of my private jet, I feel the darkness rolling in. It’s so dense, no amount of light will ever shine through it. You can’t warm the heart of a man born without one.
As I round the trunk of the chauffeur-driven car my mother most likely sent to pick me up, I raise my eyes to the blonde bombshell making her way down the stairs I just descended. The lightweight coat she donned at the start of our trip does little to protect her from the icy conditions, but she’s got her game face on. She knows her place, and she’ll never do or say anything to indicate differently.
She doesn’t even bat an eye when I shift my gaze to one of the many goons paid to protect my father. “What do you think? Want to take her for a test drive?” Wanting to ensure he doesn’t mistakenly think I’m referring to the car, I nudge my head to the blonde. “You’ve got to watch her teeth; they get a little friendly when you ram your cock too far down her throat, but her tits are natural, and her cunt is tight.” I smirk a slick grin that reveals the cocky bastard beneath my black trench coat, designer jeans, and thousand-dollar boots. “Although it might be a little looser than it was fourteen hours ago.”
The driver hesitates for barely a second before nodding like a virgin with his first tit in his mouth. Twelve months ago, his hesitation would have been warranted. If any of my crew so much as looked at Dominique in the wrong manner, they paid for their inanity with a few teeth, but things change. People change. I’ve changed. The whore Nikolai gifted me from the stockpile of many he uses to keep his men happy was purely for entertainment purposes during my flight. There’s no obsession attached to wanting something I can’t have, or the desire to steal another man’s favorite plaything. She was to serve one purpose: me. Now that she’s done that, it’s only right she is passed on to the next man in a long line waiting their turn.
After plucking my keys from the eager driver’s hand, I slide into the driver seat of my Pagani Huarya.As the engine of my pride and joy roars to life, the blonde is guided into one of the SUVs that will flank me on my trip home—if they can keep up.
The spiked chains on my tires do little to slow my speed as I race for the exit of the private airstrip my father owns. I’ve always been an adrenaline junkie. Bungee jumping, cliff-diving, demolition derby, skydiving—if it creates a mass surge of adrenaline, I’ve done it. Nothing can replicate the high of watching a spineless man take his last breath, but if I killed as often as the desire popped up, Russia would be void of a single male over the age of thirty.
When I reach the guarded gates of my family compound forty minutes later, I lower the revs of my car. The electric gates pop open without me needing to roll down my window. It could be because my car is highly recognizable since it’s only one of three in this area, but I doubt that is the case. The sleet coming in sideways means the guards are less than eager to leave the confines of their office, much less endure my wrath for making me wait.
When I’m home, the gates remain open. If my enemies want to contend for my title, I don’t want anything standing in their path. Come at me, bring the wrath, and watch me bury it right alongside them when they pay for their stupidity with their lives.
My father isn’t as willing to go to war as me. He has the title, so he has no reason to fear retribution. Going against him is the equivalent of poking a bear. Death will be the nicest thing that comes to you if you awaken the bear. My father is a horrible man. Before I capped his number last year, his death toll was the highest in the soviet region. No one was spared his wrath. Age, gender, or equality didn’t factor in any decision he ever made. He would have killed his own parents to make an example.
Now. . . now he’s weak. He doesn’t crave bloodshed or the thrill you get from an unexpected victory. He’s happy sitting on his throne, looking down on the men who keep his honor at what it once was.
The tables will turn if his enemies ever discover he is sick. They don’t see the withering old man I do, or the one who let the wind out of his sails long before emphysema did. They see a monarch, a man so strong not even a debilitating illness can take him down. They see a man I will forever fear more than I’ll ever love.
As I clamber out of my car, I dig my ringing cell phone out of my pocket. I smirk when I notice who is calling me. It’s late afternoon in Moscow, so it is early morning in Vegas. I guess time means nothing to a father of brand-new twins.
After sliding my finger over the screen of my phone, I raise it to my ear. “Still chasing the sun?”
Nikolai’s laugh while ribbing me about a supposed limp-dick and receding hairline musters up more than a smile from me. It also stirs a person whose cooing sounds much too young to be up this early. It’s the murmur of an unsettled baby.
“Still opposed to getting a nanny?”
I hear ruffling, like Nikolai is shifting one twin to one side of his chest before accepting the other. I swear since the day they’ve been born, they’ve slept nowhere else except their daddy’s chest. Once he’s happy he has them settled, he returns his focus to me. “I was raised by nannies. Enough said.”
My lips purse. “True.” After giving him a second to settle his laughter, I ask, “So what’s with the late night call? Miss me already?”
His laughter gets a second wind. “Not exactly. Those contacts Kostya mentioned last week came through. He, uh, passed on some information I thought might be of interest to you.”
The mirth in his tone shocks me, as does his hesitation. Nikolai doesn’t hesitate, and with the exception of his one and only joke about my alleged failing manhood, he rarely finds anything funny. If you take away the gleam his eyes get any time he talks about his wife, you’d swear he was without a personality.
I’m about to ask him what the fuck has him acting so weird when he discloses, “I thought the only time I’d be standing at your side this year was when you’re claiming the life of the man responsible for Dominique’s death.”
The crackling of laughter in his voice subsides before he mentions Dominique. It’s been a year since she was killed, but he’s well aware neither vengeance or grief wane with time. If anything, they propagate.
“Trey guaranteed Anya would keep you occupied on your flight home, but we don’t marry whores, Asher. We fuck them, fill them with our seed, then go home—alone.”
Nikolai’s claims that Justine can speak multiple languages ring true when she scolds him for his filthy tongue. There’s no sting in her words, especially when Nikolai tells her the only cunt he’ll ever want belongs to her before adding on, “It’s also the same tongue that will have you screaming my name later today,Ahren.”
“Seriously?! She only popped out your kids a couple of weeks ago. Give the girl a break.”
I sound jealous. Rightfully so. I am. Anya’s pussy sucked my dick as well as her lips, but my cock is still restless. There’s something you can’t get from a willing and able participant. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying I take without permission, but the forbidden. . . that’s a different story. My dick twitches at the thought of fucking a taken woman. It’s like the ultimate contest. One I strived to win time and time again before Dominique entered my life.
