Page 50 of Share Me, Daddy


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I hesitated for the briefest of moments, keenly aware of the delicate balance I needed to maintain between showing strength and weakness. Ivan’s loyalty was unquestionable, yet I knew he had doubts about my leadership just like everyone else in the organization did. The bratva had been led by men for years, and it would take time for them to build their trust in me as both their reigning boss and especially as their queen.

“Give me the details,” I responded, my voice betraying none of my internal turmoil.

“We know where they’re going to be and when they’re going to be there,” Ivan explained, the readiness to act palpable in his words. “We can eliminate them and send a clear message that the Kozlov name still means something, even after Roman’s death, and that your name means something, Anastasia.”

I’d never given an order to kill anyone before. That was my father’s role, and my brother’s, never mine. I’d killed men in self-defense before, but this felt different. This was premeditated.

If I were to deny the order, Ivan would follow my lead, but the repercussions would ripple through the family. The whispers of my perceived weakness would spread like wildfire, challenging my authority at a time when strength was critical, and I couldn’t have that. My men needed to see me as a strong leader who wasn’t afraid to make the right decision, even if it was a hard one.

The men under my command would be looking for blood. They would demand vengeance for the death of my father and for thedeaths of the soldiers taken from us in the attack. It was the bratva way, and I couldn’t ignore that.

I wasn’t going to lie. A little piece of me wanted revenge, too. The cartel had stolen my father from me, and they needed to pay for that.

Those weren’t the only things on my mind, either. Despite trying to ignore thoughts of them, I couldn’t help but imagine what Caden and Connor might think. A part of me wanted to show off the kind of power I had at my beck and call, that I was the leader of my own organization when they weren’t actually at the top of theirs. Their family shared the burden of leadership, but the entire city of Boston knew that Kieran Murphy was really in charge.

Maybe if I could show them that I was a woman to be feared, it would make me feel a little less embarrassed about the shameful things that had just happened downstairs and how hard those things had made me come after they were over.

That Iwasn’tjust their little girl to take over their knees and spank when she’d been naughty…

That I was a queen with power of her own right.

My core squeezed tight, spiraling with nervous desire at the prospect of making this decision without them and at potentially showing up the Murphys at the same time. Would they be upset? Would I earn another session over both Connor’s and Caden’s knee?

Would they touch me after it was over? Reward me for a job well done if the hit was successful? What would they say?

A shiver coursed down my spine, and I bit my lip in order to quiet a gasp of raw need.

I needed to get control of myself. This was an important moment for me, and I had to make the right decision.

I lifted my chin and pulled my shoulders back. I clutched the towel a bit tighter around my chest, and squared my jaw, resolving to face whatever challenges lay ahead with a clear mind.

I took a deep breath, weighing my options and ultimately deciding that there was really only one choice. I needed to show that I was strong and capable of making hard decisions, as well as confirm that the Kozlovs still held power in the city of Boston, with a woman at the helm rather than a man. I needed to take my blood vengeance, if not just for me, then for the sake of my men.

I needed to show the world that my name did mean something.

“Do it. Proceed with the hit,” I ordered, the weight of my decision settling on my shoulders.

“Good. I’ll give the orders,” Ivan replied, the relief obvious in his tone. His initial skepticism was gone, replaced by a sense of pride, and I allowed myself to smile.

“Call back as soon as it’s done,” I commanded.

“You got it, boss,” he replied, and I hung up the phone.

In the solitude of that room, I grappled with the weight of my decision. I would have blood on my hands, and I wouldn’t be able to wash it away.

And I was okay with that.

Keeping my chin high, I strode into the closet. My gaze skimmed over all the various options, revealing a collection dominated by men’s suits. Yet, tucked away in the back right corner, a section reserved for women caught my eye. I moved towards it, running my fingers along the fabric, searching for the perfect outfit that would exude authority and confidence.

My fingers glided over each selection, finally settling on a black suit with dark green pinstriping. The fabric felt cool and smooth beneath my touch. Pulling it off the rack, I held it against myself in front of the mirror, assessing the way it would accentuate my figure while maintaining an air of power.

It was perfect.

Letting go of the towel, I watched as it slipped to the floor. My skin was still a bit flushed from this morning’s activities, which only made it redden further.

I opened one of the drawers and found a collection of gorgeously expensive lingerie. Much of it was sheer and lacey, and I ended up settling on a set of forest green panties and a matching bra. I turned away from the mirror and slipped the underwear up my legs and up around my hips. I pulled on the bra and clasped it behind my back before I stepped into the pantsuit. As I fastened the buttons, the fabric felt soft against my skin. I pulled on the matching jacket, adjusted the collar, and gazed back at my reflection in the mirror.

With a smile, I slipped my feet into a pair of black kitten heels, completing the ensemble with a bang.

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