The rivalry and bickering between us might appear malicious, but such is the way with brotherhoods like ours. Zinovy is not truly my brother, not in any sense of biology. But we are Vor. Soldiers in Anatoly Balakin’s American Bratva, and fighting is bred into us as intentionally as breathing.
Me- Thank you, Avtorityet.
I tuck my phone into the pocket of my slacks and look up at the ceiling of my study. I hear the faintest sound of water moving through pipes in the en suite bathroom and imagine it’s Hollis stepping, nude, beneath the warm spray of the shower. My body responds, cock going hard and lengthening down the leg of my trousers. Without clothes of her own to change into,her only option will be to wear the shirt of mine I left on the bed in the room.
The rigid bar of my erection lifting the fine wool of my pantleg is obscene, and I can’t look away from it. Every heavy thud of my heartbeat makes it twitch as more and more blood rushes from my big head to the little one. I can state, with certainty, that I haven’t had this much trouble controlling my dick since I was a young man and first learned what the fucking thing was meant for.
Absently, I press the heel of my hand down my length, pushing back the lust. In any normal situation, I’d have no hesitation taking myself out and handling things. Or tracking down a willing partner to ease things for me. Neither option appeals now that I’ve met Hollis McCrea. Only a few hours in her presence and I already know she won’t make it easy on me.
Her list of necessities catches my attention, and a grudging chuckle slips out when I note the things she expects me to get for her tonight. Every third or fourth item is something outrageous like ‘freedom’ or ‘a ride home,’ but some of them truly do have me wondering what exactly I’ve gotten myself in to. What the fuck is a pop fidget unicorn, and why is it necessary? Where the fuck does one buy bubblegum toothpaste? Alevtina is the wife of one of Zinovy’sboyeviks, his soldiers, and when Sin realized he needed someone trustworthy to watch over the girl he was obsessing over, she was a logical choice.
Her husband, Kirill, had been irate when his wife was employed by Zinovy. And of course, when the men are disgruntled, they come whining to me. They foolishly believe, because I don’t immerse myself in violence as thepakhan’sbloody beast does, it’s safe to sulk in my office like petulant children.
Kirill’s tune changed quickly when he realized all of his accounts had been reassigned to his wife’s control. What I don’tcarve in flesh and blood, I exact with surgical precision on the finances of those who deserve it. Such is my right and my duty as the Vor’sobschak. The bookmaker. In the old days, it was a simpler job. Amass the tributes theAvtorityetcollect from businesses under our protection and bribe the government to stay out of our way.
These days, I handle much more and do it with much more delicacy. Which is why I know my threat to Sin’s finances landed so quickly. He knows the havoc I can wreak on his life without even standing from my seat.
Which is good, because I’m fairly certain if I don’t figure out how to get bubblegum toothpaste and a unicorn pop fidget into the house by the time Hollis comes downstairs, it’s gonna be a problem. I want her to agree to stay here and not fight me about it.
Because she won’t be leaving. I’m not like Zinovy. I’m unwilling to hide in the shadows while the woman I want goes about her days and I wait for some magical moment when everything is perfect to claim her for my own. I lack that patience and stupidity.
Hollis already has a kid. Which means some motherfuckingbalvantouched her in the past. Which is fine, I remind myself. I’m no blushing virgin, so it’s unobjectionable that she has a past. But that’s the past. She’s mine now. I still don’t understand what fuckery happened to turn me into some neanderthal ready to club a woman and drag her to my cave, but it is what it is. Instincts are a motherfucker, but only a fool fails to listen.
Chapter
Six
Hollis
Dru’s right where I left her when I went into the bathroom to clean up. Fortunately, my girl’s not one tied to location as much as routine, or else this new place, as luxe as it is, would be a problem. Also fortunately, Feliks had a sweatshirt large enough to fit me like a dress, so she has no idea my actual clothes are covered in blood and who knows what other grossness. She’s happy as can be to have extra screen time until she can get back into her usual bedtime routine. Giving her the tablet I keep in my purse for when an emergency distraction is needed always gets her super focused.
“Mommy, this house is nice. We’re staying here now? What about my stuff? I need my toys and my backpack for school.” The way she just rolls with change speaks to how unstable our lives used to be, before my online presence took off. Back then, every dollar had to be stretched to its very edges, andsometimes, that meant bailing from an apartment only hours ahead of the eviction lock.
It’s a point of pride that we’re not living that desperation life cycle anymore. I’m also super proud of the lessons I learned and the way we both came out the other side with resilience and courage to do hard things. My girl treats school, even though it’s only pre-k, like it’s the ticket to the ivy leagues. Not that she knows what those are.
“No, Dru-bee Doo, we’re not staying here. We’re only spending tonight. Tomorrow’s Friday, remember? No school on Fridays.”
“I don’t like Fridays. It takes too long ’til school again. Ms. Riley’s going to teach us how to make oobleck. I can’t miss that!” If she were standing, I don’t doubt she’d stomp her little foot.
“You won’t miss it. I promise. I don’t even know what oobleck is. So you have to be there to learn about it so you can show me,” I reason with her, because as much as I’m the adult and she’s just a little kid, she’s the smartest person I know. One day, she’ll move mountains. I believe that with every bit of my soul.
“You promise-promise we’re going home, and I’m not gonna miss school.” There’s not really a question in her question, so I just nod and knot the towel that’s big enough to be a blanket on me.
Feliks might already be on my last nerve, thanks to being stupidly hot and even more stupidly bossy, but his house is truly divine. I may have clawed my way out of poverty to the point Dru and I live well these days, but this place makes ours look like a shack.
The knock on the door is gentle, and I give the guy credit for at least attempting to be a gentleman when he kidnaps a girl. Not that I’ll be admitting that to him anytime soon.
“Yeah?” I answer the second soft knock. I don’t unlock the door. Nor do I say anything polite or gracious. Because I didn’t ask to be here. Didn’t ask for Dru to be here. Definitely didn’t ask to be brought here against my will when he could have easily just given us a ride to our place and told me to keep my mouth shut about what I saw tonight.
“I don’t know what half this shi-er-stuff is, but the bags of stuff from your list are here. Do you want me to carry them in?” The door is thick enough to nearly keep me from hearing what he says, but there’s no mistaking his pout.
A petty part of me loves thinking about him, sulking on the other side of the door, because he isn’t getting his way. It only took me two seconds to clock the kind of guy Feliks Rykov is.
For all his nerd vibes, the man is a stone cold fuck boy. Unfortunately for Feliks, I learned my lesson about guys like him before I was old enough to drive. They lack the ‘stick around’ gene. Which makes indulging in their hotness and sexy time skills a risk I can’t afford to indulge in a second time. And if there’s any single lesson I learned harder than any others from being an unhoused, pregnant fourteen year old? It’s that sex is transactional in one way or another. Fucking for free isn’t worth it. So no, Feliks ‘sex on legs’ Rykov can keep his ass on the other side of the door.
“Just leave them there. Unless the ride home from my list is included, in which case we’ll be right out,” I say.
“No. I could not fit a car in the bags. Sorry,” he replies, not sounding sorry at all.
