“You still have a lot to learn, Ava,” Vas smirks. “You may have grown up with Elias and heard his bits and pieces of the business, but that doesn’t mean you know this world.”
“Why is Leon with the Cosa Nostra?”
His smirk disappears, replaced by a dangerously handsome Cheshire grin. “Can’t tell you that.”
I really stomp my foot now, my arms crossing against my chest as I stare up at the six-foot Russian with a petulant frown that would rival any toddlers. If there is a competition, first place prize will be mine.
“I’m your boss.”
Vas shrugs. “True.”
“You can’t keep secrets from me about my own men.”
Vas’s mouth tugs downward as if he is thinking about what I tell him.
“You don’t need to know about it.”
“Vasily!” God, I sound like a toddler who hasn’t been given her morning snack.
Vas smiles, the expression lighting up his eyes as he stares down at me. Suddenly, he pats the top of my head softly and winks.
“You’re just so adorable when you get worked up.”
“Ugh!” I groan in frustration, swiping at his hand. “Stop that.”
Vas laughs, the sound easing the tension of the night. I love that about them. The men who stood with Matthias for years and offered unconditional loyalty. They never come across a situation where they can’t laugh or find some form of merriment. Even at the expense of their own humiliation. But mostly at others.
“Sorry.” The look on his face tells me he is anything but.
“Sorry enough to tell me about Dima and Leon?”
“Nope.” He pops the word dramatically before he turns to stroll back inside.
“Dammit, Vasily.” I growl as I follow him, the sound of his laughter echoing off the tunnel walls warming the bitter cold that has begins to set in.
fifty
He is holding himself back again.
The monster inside. The one that tells him to take me and fuck me until he’s proven to me who owns me.
Him.
Heart and soul.
It’s foolish of me to give him so much when I doubt I will get a return on my investment. Sometimes that is just how life plays its cards.
“Ava.” My name is a pained groan on his lips. His voice thick, eyes darkening as he stares into mine. Conflict dances across his stormy gray irises like clouds just before the rain.
I touch his lower lip with my thumb, surprised at how soft it is, so different from the pleasant roughness of his three days scruff. Matthias doesn’t wince or pull back as I gently caress the split on his lower lip. He is a beast after a battle and wired from the adrenaline rushing through his system. But I don’t care.
I want all of him.
He is watching me carefully. Looking for signs of unease or apprehension. He won’t get any of that from me.
Lacing my hands behind his neck I whisper my plea. “Just touch me, Matthias. Don’t think.”
I rest my ear against his defined chest and listen to the steady, dependable beat of his heart as I wait for him to make his move.
