Niko’s Printsessa (Sokolov Bratva #3)

Chapter One

Niko

Becca pads across the room, her dark curls pulled into one of those messy buns she loves to wear, her emerald eyes still sleepy and her smooth face clean of makeup. She’s wearing flimsy pajama shorts, that show off her long sculpted legs, and the thinnest tank top that does nothing to cover her perky tits.

She opens the refrigerator, tilts her head to the side, and crinkles her nose. The cool air covers her skin with goosebumps, and my fingers press together, yearning to pinch her tight nipples. What I wouldn’t give to ravish her body with pain so blissful she’s soaking wet and begging for my cock.

Damn.

She grabs the creamer and sets it on the counter, still oblivious of my presence, as she tips on her red-painted-toes and reaches for a coffee mug in the cupboard. Her shorts shift, granting an unobstructed view of her bare, round, ass, and I imagine her bent over this counter with my fresh handprint pinkening her supple skin.

Fuck me.

Grateful for that same counter between us, I adjust my jeans trying to ease the pressure of my cock straining against my zipper.

Andrei enters the kitchen and raises his eyebrow. “My office.”

Becca turns, finally notices me, and glares, but a flush of pink stains her cheeks. I keep my stoic mask and follow him into his office, as her familiar coconut scent floats over me.

“What the fuck is Becca doing here? Is her condo being fumigated or something?”

“Something. She was here, late last night.”

“No partying? That’s rare.”

“She was helping Summer decorate the nursery, so I used the excuse for her to stay the night.”

Andrei’s wife, Summer, is due any day, and the newlyweds are so blissfully happy that if Andrei weren’t my best friend, and cousin, I’d want to choke him. Although, he may be the only man I’d have trouble killing. Him and Sergei.

“Excuse?”

Sergei enters, Andrei rounds his ornate desk, and we all sit. “Someone threated Becca’s life through an untraceable email sent to the distillery’s general inbox.”

Zoyalov, the namesake of the Sokolov family’s vodka, is finally gaining the recognition it deserves. Shopping and partying top her list of activities, but Becca’s worked tirelessly, turning a random comment from five years ago into a successful reality. Aunt Zoya teasingly complained how expensive it was to import Uncle Leo’s favorite vodka overseas, and Becca being Becca suggested we make our own. Soon after, she was researching the distilling process. Within a year she purchased the property, machinery and equipment, but it took another year, and thousands of batches, until she had the perfect recipe. She solicited Aunt Zoya’s help with the label design, incorporating the Sokolov traditional toast, family and future , and Zoyalov was born. The recipe won multiple competitions and Becca marketed tirelessly to local liquor stores for shelf space, and now Zoyalov is sold in stores nationwide. She’s even added rum and gin to their spirits. With all of her accomplishments, you’d think she’d slow down to enjoy the fruits of her labor, but that isn’t Becca. She parties hard and can drink me under the table but fuck if she isn’t committed to the distillery’s growing success.

The grand opening of the tasting room is approaching quickly, where she’ll unveil a new citrus flavored vodka. I’ve also heard her mention giving tours and eventually hosting events.

The fact that Zoyalov is a legitimate Sokolov business, is a bonus.

Andrei continues, “The email said Leo zaplatit, a printsessa sgorit dotla. Leo will pay, and the princess will burn to ashes. ”

My fists clench needing to crush someone’s skull. “You said untraceable?”

“Oni’s working on it.” Oni is our best hacker and intel sleuth there is, and I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t caught the fucker.

“Does she know?”

Andrei pulls a black box from his desk drawer. “No, just us and Uncle Leo.”

Eyeing the box I ask, “Is that what I think it is?”

He opens it, confirming my question. It’s a twenty-four karat gold Russian Orthodox cross necklace with a large diamond in the center, and a tracker hidden inside. Andrei gifted one to Summer and Sergei to Natalia. I thought they were psychotic and possessive, tracking their women, but now I get it. Becca may not be mine, but I have the sudden urge to clasp that necklace around her neck right fucking now.

Andrei’s tone is steel conviction. “We won’t let anything happen to her.”

“But why now? Why Leo?”

Leo’s brother, and Sergei and Andrei’s father, Boris Sokolov, was cruel and jealous, and even though he was the oldest son destined to rule the Sokolov Bratva, it wasn’t enough. When he discovered Leo’s love for Zoya Petrova, Boris threatened her family, forcing her to marry the brother she didn’t love. Leo was left heartbroken and he exiled himself to Russia, away from everyone, including the Bratva.

Leo eventually married and had a daughter, Becca, but her mother died when she was young, leaving Leo to raise her himself. Years later, after his brother’s death, he moved back to the States.

Becca was eight years old, Sergei was twelve, and Andrei, who had just murdered his father, was sixteen. Boris was a tyrant and he expected the same from his sons, especially his oldest, demanding obedience and ruthlessness. How ironic, Boris molded Andrei into a cold-hearted killer, and at his first opportunity, he took his father’s life, ending the abuse Zoya and her sons had endured for years.

When Leo moved back, he and Zoya rekindled their romance, built a home and set on raising Serg and Becca, while Leo provided young Andrei with the guidance he needed to be the youngest Pakhan in Sokolov history. Leo stepped in as Andrei’s Councilor, Sovietnik , and when Sergei was ready, he took Leo’s place. Now, twenty years later, we are the most feared Brotherhood in Las Vegas.

Andrei and Sergei have a bond even their father couldn’t sever, and when Sergei was old enough, he joined Andrei at the top to run the Bratva together. They rule their kingdom like they’ve protected their long lost cousin- fiercely. Many men have gone missing for merely admiring her beauty.

“Leo’s involvement with the Bratva was little, and it ceased nearly twenty years ago. Why is he a target, and why his daughter?”

Sergei agrees, “All good questions. Either way, we’ve tightened Leo’s and Mom’s security, but we need Becca under lock and key until Oni can track down the culprit.”

“She won’t stay here willingly.”

Serg and Andrei look at each other, having an unspoken conversation. They trust me with their lives and I them. Our beginning is an unusual one, but our lives were intertwined long before we knew each other.

My mother, Nadia, foolishly fell in love with Boris Sokolov, charmed by his good looks and fortune. When she became pregnant, he demanded she have an abortion, but she refused, so he beat her within a breath of her life, before ordering his Sovietnik , and Zoya’s brother, Ivan Petrova, to finish the job. But, Ivan had been in love with Nadia for years, forced to stand along the sidelines, watching his brother-in-law cheat on his sister with the love of his life.

Ivan betrayed Boris, saving Nadia and providing her with a new identity and money to start over. He was able to save her life that day, but Boris’s beating resulted in a miscarriage.

Ivan knew contact with Nadia would put her in danger, but his heart won the battle. It started with quick checkups under the guise of making sure she was safe, but the visits became more frequent and they quickly fell in love.

When Boris discovered Ivan’s betrayal, and that Nadia was alive and now pregnant with his second-in-command’s child, he ordered his murder. My mourning mother was forced to flee again, in fear of losing yet another child.

My mother kept her heavy secrets until the day she died. Using her last breathes she unloaded the burden of her affair with Boris Sokolov, his attempt on her life, and the loss of my half-brother. That day I learned who my father was, but within the same breath she told me of his murder.

Boris Sokolov ruined her life, not once, but twice. He took my father and brother from me, and I made it my mission to hunt him down and kill him. But I was too late. He was already dead, murdered by his eldest. That should’ve brought me comfort, but I was blinded by grief and rage. If I couldn’t kill him, then I’d slaughter his family. Andrei was untouchable so I set my sights on Sergei, enrolling in the same college. My plan was to befriend him, gain his trust, and kill him. But, I never intended to like him, and when he brought me home on Christmas break I discovered his mother was actually my aunt. I broke down and told them everything.

They sat in shock while Andrei contemplated putting a bullet in my head. The only reason I’m still alive is because of Aunt Zoya. She knew Boris ordered the death of her brother, but she had no idea there was a child involved. Andrei let me live long enough to provide my DNA and the results came back confirming the truth. I was her nephew and Andrei’s and Sergei’s cousin.

Zoya insisted I move to Las Vegas. I changed my last name in honor of my father and my non-existent family grew overnight, which included Becca, who was fifteen to my twenty. We aren’t directly related but equally intwined in the strong cloth of the Sokolov family.

She used to follow me around like a love-sick puppy, but I didn’t give her the time of day, treating her like an annoyance. I was busy earning my cousins’ respect, and she was just a kid that got in the way. I’ve proven myself worthy and am now Andrei’s and Sergei’s Councilor. It’s a title I don’t take lightly.

As I rose to the top Becca grew into a beautiful woman.

The once awkward teenager is a gorgeous spitfire with a sailor’s mouth, a wicked right hook, and poker skills bar none. She’s a brilliant temptress, a crude businesswoman, but also an entitled princess.

She was raised around overbearing, testosterone filled cousins, and she’s scratched and clawed against it every breathing moment. The Sokolov men spoil her while aggravating her in the same breath. They are overprotective assholes, but she’s been given a very long rope of independence. She’s attended college, partying and fucking her way into adulthood. She may live on her own, playing boss lady during the day and fucking and drinking at night, but she’s never really alone, unaware of the security lurking in the shadows.

Seven years ago, at her twenty-first birthday bash, I made the biggest mistake of my life. The drunken angel followed me onto the veranda, standing in the moonlight, her flowy white dress blowing in the breeze, her cheeks flushed from alcohol. It was a rare moment, just us and the stars. She stumbled and I caught her waist saving her from the fall, but when she leaned in to steal a kiss, my world crashed around me. I didn’t even realize it until I had pushed her away, denying her. A reflex, the correct one, although one I’ve regretted.

Andrei and Sergei had just invited me into their inner circle, and I would never betray their trust. I reacted, and she stumbled off hurt and angry.

The Universe is a cruel beast, because now she doesn’t spare me a second glance, and I’m desperate for her.

She cynically jokes her last name is a curse and she’s right. Smart men run for the hills when they find out she’s the cousin of Andrei and Sergei. Still, she loves to test her invisible shackles, going out, drinking too much and fucking random guys, and until now, she’s gotten away with it.

Andrei says, “That’s why you’re going to tell her and she’s staying with you.”

I laugh, but quickly realize he’s not joking.

“She’s going to fight you tooth and nail, threat or not. She has the distillery to manage and the new tasting room opening.”

“She can work remotely.”

“And what about her full social calendar?”

“We aren’t giving her a choice.”

“You do know we’re talking about Becca Sokolov, right?”

Sergei jokes, “Are you, The Butcher, frightened of Becca?”

Growing up, I had no idea I was a Petrova, let alone connected to a Russian Bratva, but once I discovered the truth I embraced it. Most would run, but it was the missing piece of the puzzle for me. I enjoy slicing our enemies and making them suffer, and we all have our weapon of choice. Sergei prefers to shoot his opponent, point blank, and Andrei prefers others get their hands dirty while he orchestrates from the sidelines. We’re all cold, dark and dangerous, but I’m one of those sick fucks psychiatrists love to dissect.

My mother raised me the best she could, but we struggled. I was always big for my age and farm work sculpted my muscles, so when I heard about underground fighting I didn’t think twice. I’ve always had anger issues, and fighting became my outlet. Bare-knuckle boxing is exactly how it sounds. It’s raw and brutal, and just what I needed at the time. If I wasn’t on the farm or in school, I was in an old, dirty gym training. I had no one to mentor me, so I watched the older experienced fighters. I watched, mimicked, trained hard, and with each win my reputation grew, until I was invited to the big money events. I was able to provide for us while not only satisfying the beast growing inside me, but also nurturing the monster I am today.

I love the sound and feel of broken bones crushing under my bare hands, and shooting a bullet between someone’s eyes is satisfying, but the feeling I get when slicing a knife across my enemy’s skin or seeing the spray of blood when I plunge my weapon into their throat, is euphoric. Their dimming eyes stare at me, their executioner, and my face is the last they see as they take their final breath. Each time I picture Boris Sokolov.

Some might even say it’s cathartic.

I’m well aware I’m not normal, but just like my cousins, I do have a sliver of morality. We only gut well-deserving pieces of shit and there’s plenty to keep us busy. We may be ruthless criminals, with our hands in illegal betting, money laundering, and weapons, but as long as we don’t go around hurting innocent civilians, the Las Vegas Police Department doesn’t bother us.

Ignoring Sergei’s jab I ask, “Could it be retaliation from Netti?”

“I reached out to Dante and he’s given us his word he’s not behind it. If he discovers anything nefarious amongst his men, we’ll be the first to know.”

Just recently, Sergei rescued the love of his life from being trafficked. As much as we love a good war, the Netti family has been an ally, but after his father’s death, Rocco Netti took over and began selling woman and children. If that wasn’t bad enough, he encroached onto our territory, expecting us to turn a blind eye to his crimes.

We made it clear to Rocco we weren’t interested in human trafficking and we would never allow it in our city. Andrei contacted Rocco’s cousin, Dante, who was next in line and very much against selling humans. The plan was to kill Rocco, and Dante would take over. A time and date hadn’t been set yet, but after he tried to blow up Andrei’s wedding reception, Rocco’s fate was sealed.

We saved a lot of women that night and Becca was an intricate part. She contacted the family doctor and brought in an interpreter, and her and Oni worked tirelessly to locate the girls’ family members. The ones who had nowhere to go weren’t sent back to the streets. Instead, Becca helped set them up in one of our apartments, purchasing everything they needed, and once they were healed, she found them jobs at our casinos. She even helped some with college enrollment.

“Why can’t she stay here?”

“I have a pregnant wife, and Sergei has Natalia. Your home is in the middle of nowhere, away from all the trouble she likes to instigate. She’s safer there,” Andrei explains.

“Are you going to tell the girls?”

“Of course. If not before, we’ll discuss it at family dinner with Mom and Leo. Everyone will be there minus you and Becca.”

“I hope Aunt Zoya forgives me for my absence.”

Sergei snorts, “That’s the least of your worries.”

“She won’t go quietly.”

Andrei nods adamantly. “You’re allowed to use any means necessary. Whatever it takes to keep Becca safe.”

“What do you want me to do? Kidnap her and keep her as my prisoner?” I say it as a joke but Sergei nods.

“If you need to, yes.”

My dick twitches at the thought of tying a naked Becca to my bed.