“This isn’t…” He pulls it under the counter before any curious eyes land on our interaction. “Zemer worked alone. Mr. Morina kicked him out ten months ago. You have my word—we’re not trying to poke the bear. It wasn’t us.”
“Alone,” I echo, musing. “And why exactly would he do something like that?”
“I told you, he was kicked out—lucky we didn’t kill him then. He was alone, needed money. If there was someone desperate enough to pay him to take you out, why not take the offer?”
“That better be true, Agron. Because if I find out you’re lying, I will hunt you down like a fucking cockroach, and you’ll end up in a bag of your own.” I turn around and start walking to the door, then halt. “And make no mistake—you fucking owe me one. So you make sure Enver Morina knows that when you show him the rest of this corpse waiting in your private booths downstairs.”
As if on cue, Ivan and Kiril appear at the top of the staircase, and we all walk out through the front door under the lingering gazes of the daytime drinkers.
***
It’s late, and I’m pretty fucking drained after close to 48 hours of being awake and looking for answers.
When Father asked about what happened yesterday, I told him it was handled, even though it’s not fully true. The shooter is dead, yes, but I still need to find the other asshole he was working with. Tomorrow. Right now, all I feel is the need to lie down with my wife, sink into that pretty pussy of hers, and fall asleep with her in my arms.
Honestly, this whole thing couldn’t have come at a worse time.
Victoria was finally finding her peace here, in our home. And the throne was almost secured without impediments. Now, if word goes out about the attack—and I expect it already has—the Irish might retaliate. I, too, would take an opportunity like this if I needed to. What better time to attack your enemy than when they’re already being attacked?
There goes my fucking chance of taking my throne easily so I could finally relax.
But I will get this shit done, regardless. And when I do, I’m taking Victoria away for our honeymoon, which we never got. We didn’t need to, given the circumstances of our wedding. Now… things have changed.
I want her so fucking much I know I need to lock us both in a room together until I have enough. I smile at the thought on the way to our bedroom, knowing I’ll never get enough. At this point, I crave her all the time—I’m insatiable.
I crack the door open, and it’s dark inside.
The windows are open, the curtains flapping against the gentle wind in the night. My wife is in our bed, tucked under the covers, sleeping on her side.
My chest tightens at seeing her safe and sound. I want to pry her legs open and lick her out, but I step into the bathroom instead. I need a shower before I touch her delicate skin. Mine is still smeared with traces of death.
When I’m done, I walk back into the bedroom and put on a pair of boxer briefs. She’s in the same position, a sign that I haven’t woken her up.
I lie down next to her, pulling her to my chest. Her hair smells like lilies, and I groan, my face stuffed in it. She’s so warm, so soft. So mine.
My shoulders finally relax, and my mind goes empty as I’m dragged under her spell again. And it dawns on me that I haven’t felt so at peace in this house since my mother passed.
“She would’ve loved you,” I murmur, cupping Victoria's breast from behind.
I brush my thumb over her pointy nipple, feeling it harden up. God, I want to flip her over and pull it into my mouth. Bite her. Lick her. Claim her for the thousandth time. I press my hard cock into her ass, groaning as the need overpowers me.
She stirs, and I stop in my tracks when she speaks.
“I’m not in the mood, Wolfgang.”
Her voice is low, but steady, and unlike someone who just woke up from sleep. She was awake the entire time.
“Anything happen while I was gone?”
It hasn’t—my men would’ve told me—but maybe someone talked to her and made her upset. I fucking hate it when I have to leave her here by herself, but it’s safer for her this way.
“No. I just want to sleep.”
“Why weren’t you sleeping, then?”
“I was. You woke me up.”
“No, you weren’t. Look at me,” I say, flipping her over so I can see her face.
