“I don’t know, baby. My therapist is having me keep that thing to use for my ‘homework’ assignments,” I admit, handing her one of the cups and wrapping my arms back around her where they want to be.
“Therapist?” she asks, setting the book down.
“You told me I needed professional help, remember? I can’t say I love the whole go-in-and-talk-about-feelings crap, but she’s made a few good points. Especially about how I’ve been so hesitant to let you in.”
“I—I’m speechless.”
“Baby, I’d do anything to keep you close. If talking to some old hag about my issues and answering feeling prompts in a journal will help me be a better partner to you, you bet I’ll swallow my pride and do what I’m told.”
I watch raptly as she sets her coffee down on the bedside table and turns back to me. Then she’s crawling into my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck, filling my lungs with her sweet scent.
“You went to therapy...to be a better partner for me?” she says in a soft voice, brushing her little nose against mine. I wrap my arms around her thighs and waist, pressing her even closer to me.
“I’d do anything for you, Little Menace. When are you going to realize that?”
She tackles me back to the covers in an adorable act of aggression that elicits a rough chuckle from my throat, and starts kissing my lips with such fervor I hope the moment never ends.
Cassandra
Itense my shoulders and lower back, bracing for the kickback as I fire shot after shot towards the target in front of me.
Though I’m pessimistically prepared for the shots to go wide yet again, my heart does a small, giddy jump when I spot a tiny dark hole in the shoulder of the target.
“That’s my girl! Look at that shot.” Mikhail bursts out, the pride in his voice causing my next swallow to go down thick.
He pulls over Ivan and Ivan’s twin, Lev, whom I’ve only just formally met when Mikhail first brought me to this underground shooting range on the Lower East Side. The target slides toward us, and Mikhail points up at the one shot in which I’ve actually managed to hit the target, boasting to the guys like I’ve just won a record or something.
“Hush. I barely even hit it, and it took me five rounds,” I say, clicking the safety back on and laying the handgun down.
“You’re a much faster learner than I was, and that was a clean shoulder shot, through and through. These things take time, Menace. You did damn well for your second time out.”
“He’s right. You should’ve seen him when he was learning—nearly shot my foot clean off one time when he was aiming for a tree.” Ivan taunts him, hitting his shoulder in that gesture that men do when they’re old friends.
“Yeah, you’re one to speak, brother. Did you forget about that one time you actually did accidentally shoot me?” Lev says, raising his brow at his twin.
“That was barely a graze, you baby. I was seventeen—how long are you gonna hold that over my head?”
I examine the group of men, fascinated by the deep bonds that so clearly lie between them. Mikhail told me that they all grew up together, their parents working in the old formation of the Bratva. It’s clear that they have an understated closeness linking them; the men moving and speaking so cohesively, it seems like they’ve built their trust over years of necessity.
The sight makes me miss Sophia all the more. I’ve been staying with Mikhail in the city for the past week, submitting all of my assignments online since I’m already pretty much done with my coursework. It was an easy decision to stay, seeing as the front door of my house is practically non-existent during the repair process, but I also really want to see where this thing with Mikhail goes. I’m intoxicated by the way he makes me feel—so damn powerful and special andreal.
He’s such a fascinating man, and I feel like I could spend all day just watching him, admiring how he handles his business and runs his organization. He manages all of it with such dominating confidence, and it’s damn near addictive to see him in his element, bossing everybody around in circles.
And then he’ll turn to me, and the way his expression immediately softens… I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.
My gaze traces the way his tattooed fingers wrap around the gun I was just holding, and I can’t help but picture those hands doing other, more depraved activities.
He’s a talented man in more ways than one.
Mikhail turns, catching me red-cheeked in my shameless admiration, and walks directly to me, pressing a kiss to my lips.
“You ready to head home, sweetheart?” he asks, curving his arm around my back in that way he does that turns my legs to jelly.
“Mhm.” I nod, nipping his bottom lip playfully, before remembering the two men who are still standing around us.
“Take it to the bedroom, you two,” Ivan mutters, breaking his constant stoic expression to crack a small smirk.
“I intend to,” my man says, before pulling me toward the door.
