Page 78 of Bought By Sin

Now he kissed me, a lingering press of his lips on my cheek as he snuggled me closer in his embrace. “I should’ve brought you here from the beginning.”

“The first day I came here, you said I was filthy,” I reminded him.

“You were.” He slipped his hand under the towel, caressing his hand over my stomach. “With all that dirt and sweat from the desert.” He kissed under my ear, sending a bolt of lust straight to my core. “And I wanted to strip and clean you.”

I smirked as he tugged at the edge of the towel, teasing about the concept of stripping me now. At least he couldn’t say I was dirty now, just out of the shower.

“Being here made me think about how I got here,” I admitted. “How I’d come from no one and nowhere but I somehow want to think I belong here.”

“You do.”

“You say that about all the people who work for you?” I joked.

“I do,” he answered honestly. “Every member of the Bratva is family.”

He urged me to back up with him in the closet, leading me to backpedal within his embrace until he reached the large armchair. As he sat, he folded me onto his lap so I was seated sideways, my legs draped over his.

“But not every member of the Bratva is supposed to stay as family.” His tone turned somber as he leaned back in the chair and stroked my thigh.

“You mean traitors who’ve turned against the family?” I asked.

He nodded. “Like my father.”

What?

I furrowed my brow, surprised at that. His father? I assumed his parents were dead since they were never around. “You father?” I shook my head, feeling stupid. “I never really knew much about the history of the Volkov line.”

He scoffed. “It’s not a pretty history. The man who was supposed to be my father planted a bomb to kill my uncle. He succeeded in killing my grandparents. With my grandfather as the Pakhan at the time, he tried to overthrow the throne and have it for himself.”

“But he didn’t?” I guessed, hating how troubled he looked to talk about this. “Because your uncle lived?”

He nodded. “Yes. Leadership is passed from father to son—to the eldest son. Gregori was Uncle Dmitri’s younger brother.”

“Wait. Gregori? As in⁠—”

“As in the fucker who started this network and is trying to attack us.”

I blinked, my eyes wide open now. “Whoa,” I whispered.

“He’s not my father,” he vowed darkly. “And as soon as we find him, he will be dead. For real, this time.”

I listened to how Gregori had been presumed dead for so long. All while he talked, he stroked his hand over my thighs, like he needed to feel me as he purged this dark history. I didn’t interrupt him as he unveiled it all—how instrumental Elena had been to discover the money trails and then how Carina showed that the Cartels were being used against the Bratva’s trade interests.

“I wish he were dead,” he summed up with a low mutter.

“He will be,” I said, confident that no one could escape the wrath of the Volkovs. “Then we’ll both have dead fathers.”

He glanced up at me, his gaze serious and sober. “Your father was killed.”

It should have sounded like a question, but he was assuming it.

I nodded. “My parents sold me to the Cartel for whatever price they could. All to get a quick fix.” I swallowed hard, hating that this could still define me as a reject. “I couldn’t understand how they could get rid of me like that, but they’d never cared. I was a burden, an obstacle to their lives as addicts.”

He let out a deep breath and shook his head.

“I found them dead when I was sent out on a smuggling run near Dallas. I found them both dead with some other addicts under a bridge near where the handoff was. That was when I realized I was alone. Truly alone. I never allowed myself to think that they’d come looking for me. I never wanted to get my hopes up high that they’d regret selling their daughter as a slave all so they could get a hit. I couldn’t do that to myself when I already knew they’d never cared.”

He gripped my thigh, his expression turning more twisted with anger and sorrow.