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“At first, yes,” he says as he traces my chin with his finger, “but there was something . . . primal that rose within me when I heard people cheering and yelling my name. I got addicted to it, in a way. It was very fulfilling. Well, for a period of time, at least. I was twenty-three when I joined the Bratva. I can’t believe it’s been over ten years.”
“So you went from a fighting ring to an upscale club. It’s a big change.”
“I started as a soldier. Sometimes running errands, but most of the time, I was sent to collect debts. I’d never even held a gun back then, so Yuri had to teach me how to shoot before I could be given more serious assignments.”
“Do you like it? Running a nightclub?
“Two clubs, actually. I’m at Ural most of the time. It’s a bigger one. The second club, Baykal, is mostly used to launder money. But yes, I like it.”
I lean my head on his chest and stroke the inked skin of his stomach. “I’ve never been to a club. The New York Family isn’t involved in the entertainment business, so Arturo only let me and Sienna go to bars owned by someone within the Cosa Nostra. And even that was rare.”
“Why?”
“He was scared that something would happen to us. Sienna always wailed about how paranoid he was. I guess he was right to be.”
Pasha’s hold on me tightens, and he strokes my back.
“How does it feel?” His voice is soft, almost reverent.
“What?”
“To have a family. Someone who’ll stay with you, no matter what. Even if you make a mistake. Even when you’re angry. Someone who’ll be in your corner even when they know you’re wrong. To have someone who is . . . yours?”
The look in his eyes . . . I can’t describe it. Longing. Hunger. And so much sadness.
“It’s like warmth,” I whisper.
“Warmth?”
“Yes. When you find yourself in a frigid, raging storm, they are the people who will do anything to make sure you don’t get cold. They will wrap their arms around you, shield you, surround you in their own warmth while the icy wind beats on their backs.”
“Is your family like that?”
“Sometimes, Sienna and Arturo are hard to deal with. The three of us have very different personalities. But yes. They are both like that.”
“Will you tell me about them?”
“Sienna is . . . a force of nature. She’s loud. Outspoken. One moment, she would be laughing like crazy, and the next, she’d be crying her eyes out.” A nostalgic smile spreads across my lips. “Sienna loves to pretend that she’s shallow. She posts a gazillion photos on social media, wearing ridiculous clothes that usually make people think she’s a bit whacky. Sometimes, she gives them the impression that she’s not very bright.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea.” I reach out and trace the line of his brow with my finger. “My sister is the most intelligent person I know, but instead of doing something with her amazing mind, she’ll just . . . fool around. The only thing that truly interests her is her writing.”
“What does she write?”
“She’s never shown me.” I smile. “But I snuck a peek at some of her notebooks when we were younger. They were hidden in a box under her bed. She writes romance novels.”
“Romance novels?” Pasha raises his eyebrow. “Is she good?”
“Yeah. Very good. Sienna has a thing with words. Other than English and Italian, she can speak four other languages. And she learned them on a whim.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone learning a language on a whim.”
“My sister learned basic Japanese in a month, all on her own, just because a boy from school called her stupid.” I laugh. “She was fourteen at the time.”
Pasha smiles, but his eyes stay sad. “That’s quite the talent. Most people would be hard-pressed to learn and speak one foreign language, never mind five. I don’t like speaking Russian. I understand it completely, but I almost never converse in it.”
“I’ve noticed.” I lean forward and press my lips to his. “Why?”
