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My heart almost stops as the deep, slightly Russian-accented voice roars behind me. As huge, powerful hands grip my arms fiercely. As the black power of the voice’s owner rolls over me like a thunderhead crashing into a shore. As the heady, intoxicating scent of bergamot, wood, andmaninvades my senses like a drug.
I flinch as he grabs me, like I’ve been zapped with a taser.
My hands spasm.
My fingers release.
Oh God—
It doesn’t happen in slow motion. It takes merely a fraction of a second for the priceless, gorgeous thing to slip from my hands andexplodeagainst the hardwood floor.
“Youlittle. FUCKING—”
My reaction is instantaneous. When Gavan’s grip tightens on me, the self-defense moves Castle has spent hours and hours drilling into me come to the fore without warning. It doesn’t matter that this isn’t some random mugger in the park. It doesn’t matter that the man grabbing me is the single most powerful, dangerous man in New York.
I just react.
My foot stamps down on the bridge of his foot. And just as he hisses in a mix of pain, shock and surprise, I throw my heel backhard, my foot kicking all the way back and up until my shoe connects with his balls.
The bruising grip releases from my arms as he groans, and Ibolt—flinging myself out the door of his office and rushing headlong down the halls of Ironclad Holdings. I skip the elevator and take the stairs first two and then three at a time, almost blind with the dizzying fear and adrenaline roaring in my veins like napalm until I go crashing out a doorway into a side street.
Then I turn and run into the night, the scent of bergamot and wood still in my nostrils, the feel of his grip still tingling on my skin.
2
GAVAN
When the sensationof wanting both to puke and curl into a ball finally abates, my eyes drop to the floor.
Mother.Fucker.
Everything goes silent as I stare at the shattered remains of what was once the “Imperial Shield” Fabergé egg that Vadim left me. The room continues to spin, and the throbbing pain in my balls lingers as I slowly close my eyes and suck in a slow breath.
I could chase her. At least, IthinkI could chase her, given the swollen state of my fucking nuts right now. But she’s already gotten a head start, and I know she’s fast. So I let her run, knowing she’s not actually getting away for good.
My eyes open, my gaze taking in the smashed pieces on the floor. Fury begins to swirl like molten fire in my chest. My vision tunnels, teeth gritting as my lips curl into a silent snarl.
There’s no going back. There’sneverbeen any going back for me. Only forward. Only upward, until I burn in the fucking sun like Icarus.
Leaving the pieces where they are, I turn and walk slowly toward the bar cart in the corner of the room. I pour averyheavy splash of vodka and bring it to my lips as I move to the window, glaring out at the city below.
It never ceases to amaze me that this is where I stand now, a king and vengeful god high above it all.
It wasn’t always like this. Not for me, the product of violence and cruelty. A bastard son that a man I didn’t deserve took in and cared for as if I were his own flesh and blood.
My mother was Kristina Reznikov. She was also the mother of the half-brother with whom I now rule this empire. Konstantin and I don’t share a father, but we both were victims of our fathers’ malignant cruelty when they were still alive.
It was Semyon Belsky, a rival Bratva king, who raped my mother twenty-five years ago. When she found out the assault had left her pregnant, she hid it from her husband, Konstantin’s father, the unimaginably heartless Antin Reznikov. Antin, being the callous and merciless piece of shit that he was, would have seen—and eventuallydidsee—the assault as infidelity on my mother’s part.
So she carried me to term and gave birth to me in secret. And then it was Vadim, one of Antin’s topavtoritets, who raised me like a son. Not just because he loved my mother from afar, in his own secret way. But because he was a good man.
My mother spent the rest of her sad life interacting with me as if I were Konstantin’s best friend. As if I was “the brother her son never had”, even though in truth Iwas. Unable to openly love me in the way she wanted to, for fear for both of us.
Vadim taught me how to be a man, as well as the ways of the world and of the Bratva. But when Konstantin and I discovered the truth about my parentage six years ago, my life changed. Vadim, being a top captain whose loyalty had always been to Konstantin over that piece of shit Antin, was wealthy enough. But suddenly, as the rightful co-head of the entire empire, I was worthbillions, and became more powerful than I could have ever imagined.
Now, Konstantin and I run the Reznikov organization like the brothers we are. But I’ve kept the Tsarenko name.
My Reznikov blood honors my mother. My last name honors the man who loved her, and who raised me as if he were my true father.
