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“I want revenge,” I whisper, voice barely audible. “But I can’t abandon my other responsibilities. The Bratva depends on me, Eden. My father’s legacy …”
“Isn’t yours,” she finishes the sentence for me. “Just like I shouldn’t have to pay for the sins my father committed—real or imagined.”
I swim over to her. “Eden, I’ll find that out before I do anything.”
I look into her eyes, see a glimpse of hope, and she takes my hand. It’s a small compromise that binds us together even more tightly than before.
“I believe you,” she whispers, “And I really do care if you come home. I need you to come home. Because you have a heart, even if you think you don’t.”
I try to pull away from her, not wanting to admit that I need the tenderness she offers. But Eden holds me steadfastly, refusing to release me from her grasp. My body finally surrenders, relaxing against hers as we let go of the edge. We float on our backs in the pool, our fingers interlaced.
“You should be in bed,” I murmur, feeling desire creep into me.
“No,” she whispers back. “I want to be here with you.”
And then she brushes her lips against mine, light as a feather, before she pulls herself out of the pool and walks away. I watch her ass shift up with each step and feel my cock rising to life watching her.
I want to walk after her, but I don’t. Instead, I watch as the door closes behind Eden. I start to swim furiously, not stopping to take breaks or rest. I drive forward in the water, lap after lap, determined to keep swimming until she’s out of my mind.
I just caught a glimpse of what’s possible.
And anything that’s possible can be snatched away forever.
Even her.
Especially her.
40
NIKOLAI
I walkacross the floor of the warehouse, and the hollow sound of my footsteps reverberates throughout the space. The walls were torn down during a renovation that was started years ago but never finished. Gunsyn claimed the space and decided not to put them back up except for where he built a private office in a far corner.
As I walk past, fresh recruits stand stiffly at attention, guarding boxes of forged invoices and receipts that could land all of us in jail. I don’t like having dirt so concentrated in one place, but this arrangement is necessary.
I make my way to the office, ignoring the dried blood on the floor and the sickly smell of vomit. As I approach the open metal door, the stink of cigars camouflages the rude smell. If Alexander bought the damn things, they’re probably expensive.
I hate it here. But it’s necessary.
My eyes adjust to the sunlight as I enter the small cube built of sheetrock and studs. The three brigadiers sit around a steel desk with key locks on each drawer. Gunsyn sits in a wingbackchair while the others sit on folding chairs, sharing a bottle of premium vodka in a crystal skull. Smoke from Alexander’s cigars fills the air, and he is careful not to get the ash on his royal blue suit.
“Nikolai Gennadyevich!” Gunsyn acknowledges my presence with his bulldog smile. “We were just discussing your lovely fiancée, Eden. You two looked like the happy couple, the small accident at the shower notwithstanding.”
“Cut the bullshit, Gunsyn,” I reply sternly and remain standing.
“Of course, pakhan.” He smirks.
“So, someone came for her at the shower,” I glare at each of them in turn, and they wisely wipe the haughty grins off their faces. “But no Budanov. Just another Lanzzare trying to take what belongs to me. I’m starting to think that the three of you are lying to me.”
The brigadiers exchange glances, then wolfish grins reappear. Zhanna’s warning echoes in my mind, and I clench my fists to keep myself from saying something else.
“Have you fallen in love already, my pakhan?” Alexander asks, his voice dripping mockery as he takes a long pull on his cigar.
“Love?” Gunsyn guffaws, shaking his ugly face. “No, he’s just like his father. Always got eyes for a nice perky ass. And that girl has a nice?—”
“Enough!” I seize Gunsyn from the chair, twisting the collar of his shirt so he can’t breathe, and then shove him against the window. The lower half swings outward under his weight as he struggles. I slam him into the glass again.
Ippolit jumps up and grabs my waist. Recruits peer through the open door to investigate the shouting, but Alexander waves them off and shuts the door. Gunsyn lifts his hands in submission, his face almost purple and the neck of his T-shirt stretched out. I release him and he doubles over, coughing forcefully. Silent and smooth, Ippolit hands him a glass.
