“Brother.”
“Do you think it will work?”
“Da.”
“Da?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Czar grabs his cell phone and texts his brother.
Then, the insatiable man makes love to me all night.
Five
Czar
The next day.
I run on the treadmill, looking at the news on the Television mounted on the wall. I like to see what’s happening in Russia, the US, and New York. I like to know about everything that’s happening and how it’s going to affect the Bratva. I look at the clock and turn off the treadmill.
I walk into my bedroom and look at Mia sleeping. I scrub my face and walk into the bathroom, pulling off my shorts and sneakers. I walk into the shower; the shower heads turn on. I lather up, but my cock is fucking hard. I slide my hand over my cock, hissing. I need her, but I’m going to jerk off in the shower. She needs to rest. She was a virgin, for fucks sake, and I fucked her all night. She’s going to be sore.
I can’t get Mia off my mind. She’s still sleeping on my bed, where she belongs. Once I tasted her sweet pussy, and fucked her, I couldn’t let her go. But she needs to go home before Conti learns about this. Not that I care, she’s fucking mine. I have to figure out how to keep her. But the politics are fucking insane. I leave Mia a note and walk out of my apartment. just in time to meet up with my twin.
“You’re late. Tell me that Mia is not in your bed,” Anatoly hums, walking to the car.
“Da, she is.”
“Fuck! You’re asking for trouble.”
“Nyet. Don’t you say a word? I’m going to figure it out.”
“Nyet. You know that you could be causing a fucking war. Lev will fucking kill you if his contract falls through.”
“It won’t. It’s signed. He’s claimed Valentina. It’s all working for him.”
“Why don’t you tell him that you claimed Mia? You took her fucking virginity. What were you thinking? You have to marry her.”
“Da. I’m going to marry her, but I have to figure out how to get Conti to agree.”
“Yeah, well, if you got her pregnant, you will be in fucking deep shit.”
“Da. That could be a possibility since I couldn’t keep my hands off her.”
“Fuck, Brat, you mean your dick. You’re fucking pussy whipped.”
“Da. And I love it. On another note, I was watching the news, and there are a lot of girls missing on our turf. Those fucking Irish are taking them, I know it.”
“Da, but we don’t have proof,” Anatoly hums.
“Da. I’m going to have to get it. I want you to look into the underworld dark web for information, and maybe our informants know something,” I say, walking to the black Range Rover.
We all drive Range Rovers; it’s our thing. It’s bulletproof, ensuring safety and peace.
“Da, will do. Okay, let’s hurry and take the food to the shelters,” Anatoly says, looking at his cell.
