Page 60 of Violent Pawn

“I had to.” He bends his head, looking off in the distance.

“We woke up beside one another the morning prior.”

“I know. Just…I had to, cara mia. It wasn’t you, all me. I-I…the kiss made things more real, and I had to be careful for both our sakes.”

I study the side of his face, picking apart his expression—the pain. I want to ask more about it, but if anyone understands boundaries, it’s me.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “If it made you feel cheap or something, that wasn’t the intention. Believe me, spending the morning with you is all I wanted, and I’ve regretted leaving every day since. Forgive me?”

Forgiving isn’t in my wheelhouse, but this I can do. Unlike the blood on his collar, I feel his truth. Something freaked him out, which I completely understand. How can I ask him to be careful with me when he too has his own shit to work through?

“You’re forgiven.”

He brings his phone up again to open the clock app so we get the precise time to the second. At 11:59:11, he counts down, his voice coiling my stomach with desires I still haven’t allowed myself to embrace.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…”

I join in, mouthing but not verbalizing the next few numbers. Not until whispering, “One.”

His arms tighten. Head descends.

His mouth touches mine gently. A brush of his lips and nothing like the other night, but still one to ignite a fire in his eyes that the blue burns through and drowns out my trauma. A simple press of our lips before he pulls back, seeking permission like he had the other night.

Cupping the back of his head, I pull him back down.

Fireworks shoot off in the distance, but we don’t break apart to watch them. Not for a while, anyway. Instead, we kiss and kiss. Slowly, gently, tentatively…neither taking it further.

Both of us present in the moment.

Happy New Year’s indeed.

My brother has zero tact or patience, so as Vanessa and I are slurping down much-needed caffeine after getting home late, he bursts through the kitchen entranceway.

“Abrum Angeloff is dead.”

What? Still foggy from the short handful of hours, my brain doesn’t fully hear him. Nero and I had gotten home around one in the morning after taking a silent taxi trip back. He walked me to my bedroom, kissed my forehead, and went to his borrowed room. I’ve yet to see him since.

Vanessa coughs into her mug, the first to make sense of Lev’s announcement. “What? How? What? I think this is a good thing?”

Abrum Angeloff was one of Ursin’s Elite, and one I barely knew since Papa generally kept me away from the other Elite members, pretending I was a respectable good girl waiting for marriage. Only Ursin as Pakhan and Ivan as Ursin’s brother knew my rough reality.

He was one of a few who got banished from the Bratva after Vanessa’s takeover, but Lev has their names flagged by the Moscow Police Department so we’ll know if anything happens with them.

“I received the call about nine minutes ago.” Ah, my brother’s odd penchant for numbers and being precise. “Neighbour called it in when she went next door to see him. They found his body, neck slashed, in his living room.”

“Good,” Dimitri chimes, entering the kitchen with Katya and catching the end of Lev’s recounting. Though they have their own house, they’ve been around frequently for the holidays. “One less bastard from that time alive.”

Vanessa lowers her mug, frowning. I could all but see the gears in her mind working. “A home invasion gone wrong?”

Lev shrugs. “Police are reporting there wasn’t forced entry. Nothing was out of place or stolen from what they could tell. They discovered no traces of DNA. Whoever did it was in and out quickly.”

“And only there for Angeloff,” Dimitri comments, now matching Vanessa’s shrug. “This could be…worrisome.”

“Mercenary?” I offer. “Who else would get that kind of job done with that level of meticulousness?”

“But”—Vanessa pauses, the question settling within the room—“who besides the four of us wants him dead?”

“That list would be pretty long, given all the shit he did in your papa’s name.” Lowering onto my elbows, I scan the room. “Could be anyone.”