“Just a few more paragraphs, sweetie,” I murmured. “Then we’ll take a break.”
A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined this life. When Director Kozlova had offered Ivan a mansion back in Moscow, including their re-establishment within the Russian Bratva, I’d held my breath.
But he’d refused without hesitation, choosing instead this new path we’d carved together. We still maintained tight connections—I consulted for all the families and the Paraskia—but on our terms.
I glanced at my phone, checking the time. Ivan would be home tomorrow after three long weeks away, and my body hummed with anticipation. Video calls just weren’t enough even though the image of Vince jerking off while watching me do the same had its own kind of appeal. But nothing beat his hands on me, his warmth, his scent surrounding me.
Plus, he was bringing Mira with him. I’d missed my twin fiercely though our weekly video calls helped ease the distance. As did the three months we spent in NYC each year.
The sun warmed my bare legs as I shifted in the lounge chair, enjoying the private view from our secluded patio. The infinity pool stretched before me, its azure waters a perfect mirror of the panorama of mountains and sky. Our property was perched halfway up the mountain, isolated enough for privacy but close enough to civilization for convenience. The perfect compromise between Ivan’s paranoid security requirements and my need for freedom.
I saved my work, closed the lid, took my phone, and smiled at a message from Jemma. She and Vince were consideringvisiting next month, which would be nice. Though I loved our sanctuary here, I also cherished every chance to reconnect with family and friends. The best of both worlds.
A shadow fell across my laptop, and I looked up to find Anton approaching with a tray. The scent of fresh coffee and pastry hit me a moment later, making my mouth water instantly.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I told him as he set down a perfect cappuccino and a decadent-looking pastry beside my laptop.
Anton had stayed behind as head of my personal security detail while Ivan was away—a precaution that used to annoy me but that I’d come to appreciate. Not just for the protection, but for the company. The Zotov siblings had become family in ways I’d never anticipated.
I eyed the pastry with suspicion despite my watering mouth. “Be honest. Ivan told you to fatten me up so I will never leave him.”
Anton chuckled, his usually serious face relaxing. “Nope, he just told me to make sure you’re happy every day. And this is how I do it.”
I smiled. “Well, you’ve passed the test,” I said, picking up the pastry and taking a decadent bite. “I think you’re ready to go out and find your own woman to treat like a queen.”
Anton’s retort died on his lips as his posture suddenly stiffened, his hand moving subtly toward his concealed weapon. I froze, instantly alert, but then saw the subtle shift in his expression from alert to recognition.
“I would be grateful if you stopped flirting with my womanand found your own,” a familiar voice growled from behind me.
My heart leapt into my throat. I whirled around so fast that Chiara tumbled from my lap with an indignant yip.
Ivan stood at the patio entrance, travel-worn but breathtaking. His normally immaculate suit was slightly rumpled, dark stubble shadowed his jaw, and his eyes burned with an intensity that sent heat flooding through me instantly.
“You’re early,” I managed to say, already rising from my chair.
His lips curved into that rare, genuine smile reserved only for me. “Couldn’t stay away another day.”
I launched myself at him without another thought.
He caught me easily, lifted me with his strong arms as I wrapped my legs around his waist.
He claimed me immediately, his lips catching mine with a hunger that matched my own. Three weeks of separation were far too long.
When we finally broke apart, I was breathless, my hands cradling his face. “I missed you,” I whispered against his lips.
“Not enough to stop flirting with my brother,” he murmured while he glared over my shoulder at Anton, but I could hear the teasing beneath his possessive tone.
Anton cleared his throat behind us. “I’ll leave you two to your reunion.”
Ivan focused back on me, his eyes moving from mine, down to my lips, and back to my face. “Good idea.”
“I’ll cut the camera feed out here,” Anton added, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.
I turned around and watched him head toward the house. He winked at me once before he disappeared inside.
Once we were alone, Ivan carried me to the lounge chair and sat down with me still wrapped around him. My body molded to his perfectly, finding its natural place. He reached for the cappuccino and pastry, settling me more comfortably in his lap.
“Share with me?” he asked, bringing the cup to my lips first.
