We stay there for a moment, both breathing hard, and then I pull out slowly. "On your knees," I command, my voice rough. "Clean my cock, Alena. I want you to carry my taste through the day."
She turns and drops to her knees without hesitation, looking up at me with those dark eyes as she takes me into her mouth. I am still half-hard, sensitive from coming, and the feeling of her tongue cleaning me makes me groan. She works thoroughly, licking every inch, sucking gently, making sure nothing is wasted.
When she is finished, she sits back on her heels and looks up at me, and I reach down to cup her face. "Good girl," I murmur, stroking her cheek with my thumb. "Now get dressed. Your guards are coming with you today."
Her eyes narrow. "What?"
"Klaus is coming to London. You do not go anywhere without protection until this is over." I help her to her feet. "Non-negotiable."
She opens her mouth to argue, but something in my expression stops her. "Fine," she says finally. "But they stay in the car."
"No." I kiss her forehead. "Get ready. I will be downstairs." And I walk back leaving the room fast before her Balkan stare takes place. Fuck I have no idea who is scarier. Klaus or her. I kind of think it’s her. I glance at her before closing the bedroom door. She looks at me now. Her. She is scarier.
• • •
Marcus arrives an hour later with two men I recognize from Konstantin's crew. We gather in my office—a room I claimed in Alena's house and filled with the equipment I need to run operations. Konstantin and Dmitri are already there, and I pour six glasses of vodka before sitting behind the desk.
Marcus takes his glass and downs it in one swallow, then looks at me. "So. The mafia."
"The mafia," I confirm. "You sure about this?"
"You are my brother. If this is what it takes to keep you alive and get Klaus dead, then yes. I am sure." He sets his glass down. "Tell me what I need to know."
I refill his glass and lean back in my chair. "First, understand what you are joining. The Bratva is not just an organization—it is a brotherhood. Once you are in, you are in for life. There is no leaving. No retiring. You die in or you die out."
Marcus nods. "I understand."
"Do you?" I lean forward. "Because this means blood, Marcus. Not just metaphorical—actual blood. You will kill people. You will hurt people. You will do things that keep you awake at night."
"I have done worse for less," he says quietly. "At least this time it is for family." I know what he means. Marcus was the one that put me in the pits. He is more brutal than me. More strategic and angrier. Perfect combination for a killer. And I know, Marcus will sleep easier at night than me. Now that Lucy could be in danger, fuck he will smile before getting in bed at night.
Konstantin speaks up from his position by the window. "Klaus is on the move. We have confirmation he is flying to London in three days. He is bringing his inner circle—six men, maybe more. This is either a routine check or he suspects something."
"Which means what?" Marcus asks.
"Which means we need to be ready for anything," I say. "If he suspects I am planning something, he will move against me. And if he moves against me, he will use the people I love as leverage."
"Alena and Lucy," Marcus says. It is not a question.
"Yes. That is why they both have full protection details now. Round the clock, no exceptions." I pour another round of vodka. "And that is why I need you ready to move when I give the signal."
"What signal?" Marcus asks.
"When Klaus makes his move—and he will make a move—I am going to kill him. But I need to do it in a way that consolidates power, not fractures it. The men need to see that I am the rightful heir, that Klaus's death is justified, that following me is the smart play."
Dmitri nods. "Most of the younger men are already loyal to you. They see Klaus as weak, cruel for cruelty's sake. You are different—strategic, honorable. They will follow you."
"But the old guard will not," Konstantin adds. "Klaus has men who have been with him for decades. They will fight for him out of loyalty or fear or both."
"How many?" Marcus asks.
"Maybe thirty percent of our forces," I say. "But they are older, slower. If we move fast and decisively, we can minimize casualties."
Marcus downs his second shot. "So, what do you need me to do?"
"Learn. Train. Be ready." I slide a folder across the desk. "Konstantin will teach you the basics—protocol, hierarchy, how to spot a tail, how to lose one. Dmitri will handle weapons training. I need you competent in three days."
"Three days," Marcus repeats, opening the folder. "That is not much time."
