Sinful Embers (Vegas Bratva Kings #2)

18. LEIGH

Chapter 18

LEIGH

I wake with a jolt, my body drenched in sweat, my breathing uneven. The room is dimly lit by the first pale hints of dawn creeping in through the curtains. For a moment, I can’t remember where I am. The weight of a muscular arm draped across my waist pulls me back to reality.

Radomir.

I’m wrapped in his warmth, his strong, possessive hold anchoring me to him even in his sleep. His steady breath brushes against the back of my neck, his body molded to mine, skin to skin. The scent of him—dark spice and musk—makes my stomach twist painfully.

Because I don’t deserve this.

I don’t deserve him.

Guilt floods my veins, thick and suffocating. I killed his father. I killed his uncle. And the moment he finds out, he’ll have no choice but to do what Bratva law demands. No forgiveness. No exceptions.

I have to leave.

Now.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my heart to slow its frantic pounding as I carefully move, inching toward the edge of the bed. But just as I think I’m free, Radomir tightens his grip, pulling me back against his chest with a sleepy groan.

“Where do you think you’re going, printsessa?”

His voice is husky, thick with sleep, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

Shit.

Before I can answer, before I can think of an excuse, Radomir flips me onto my back, pinning me beneath him. His weight, his heat, his sheer presence swallows me whole. Blue eyes, still heavy-lidded from sleep, blaze down at me, filled with hunger, with something deeper.

Possessiveness .

He slides a hand down my body, tracing my hip before gripping my thigh, spreading me open beneath him, his lips ghosting over mine.

I should push him away. I should fight harder to get up. But when he kisses me—slow and deep, his tongue teasing mine, his body grinding against me—I’m lost.

Radomir doesn’t just kiss. He claims.

And I let him. Because I want to feel him all over and inside me one last time.

For my grand goodbye, I take control. I roll him onto his back, my hands splaying over the hard ridges of his abs as I press soft, teasing kisses down his chest. Radomir watches me, his gaze dark, heated, and filled with something primal.

I slide lower, my mouth trailing over the deep cut of muscle leading to his cock. He stiffens, his fingers threading through my hair as I wrap my lips around him, taking him deep, savoring the taste of him.

A guttural groan rumbles from his chest. His grip tightens, but he doesn’t force me—he lets me take what I want.

I work him slowly, deliberately, watching the way his muscles tense, how his breath stutters. I love this—watching him unravel because of me, feeling his control slip, his body trembling beneath my touch.

Just as I feel him start to lose himself, he curses, dragging me off him. His chest rises and falls in rapid bursts, his jaw clenched tight. “Not like this,” he growls, pulling me up toward him. “I want you riding me when I come.”

I gasp as he pulls me onto his lap, positioning me above him. His hands grip my hips, guiding me down onto his cock, filling me inch by inch until I can barely breathe.

“Fuck,” I moan, my nails digging into his shoulders.

Radomir groans, his hands gripping me tighter as I start to move, rocking against him. His fingers slip between us, finding my clit, stroking it in time with our movements. The pleasure is overwhelming, and when I come apart, crying out his name, he follows with a deep, shuddering growl, his arms wrapping around me as he thrusts deep one final time.

His mouth finds mine, kissing me fiercely, as if he knows. As if he senses that after this, everything will change.

When he finally drifts off, his body sated and warm beside me, I slip out of bed.

I move quickly, my heart hammering as I wash up in the bathroom, ignoring the ache in my chest. I pack a bag—just a few clothes, essentials. I leave my wedding ring and engagement ring that I only got back last night, on the nightstand.

Then, I sit on the edge of the bed and write.

A letter to Radomir.

I pour everything into it—the truth about what happened that day. That I was the one who pulled the trigger. That I never meant to, but it doesn’t change what happened. That I love him, but I know what his code demands.

That’s why I have to leave.

I place the letter on my pillow beside him, staring at him for one last moment. Then I force myself to walk away.

Dmitri’s palace may be over the top but he has a garage of the most awesome cars of which he told me I could help myself anytime. I chose one that’s not flashy and will just blend in to my surrounding. I drive for hours, following the GPS coordinates on my new phone that I know I will have to ditch when I leave the car in a carpark near the train station then take a bust to the airport. That’s what my Uncle Mark taught me—I’m not sure I’ll ever gets used to calling him Uncle Mark even though it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Every few minutes I find myself checking the mirror expecting him to come after me. But the road stays empty.

I pull into a car park a few blocks from the bus station and along the way I call the number my father drilled into me as a child. A security protocol if I was ever in danger.

The line connects. A cold, professional voice answers.

“Gold Crown Security.”

Relief slams into me so hard I nearly cry.

Two hours later, I’m in Moscow, checking into a five-star hotel under an assumed name my security detail provides, and they assure me I’m safe. No one, not even my father will find me. I’m safe.

For now.

I stare at the small bag from the pharmacy—the pregnancy tests I bought at the airport. My hands shake as I take them into the bathroom, my stomach is a mess of nerves.

Minutes later, I stare at the results.

Three tests. All positive.

A choked breath escapes me. My knees buckle, and I sink onto the floor, gripping the counter.

I’m pregnant.

With Radomir’s child.

I let out a shuddering sob, pressing a hand to my stomach. I should be happy. But all I feel is fear. Because when he finds out the truth… there will be no coming back from it.

The next morning, I get the call.

“Miss M, your presence is requested at the Gold Matriarch Private Bank in Mayfair. We have sent a private jet for you to Moscow to fly you to London and we’ll see you in the morning.”

I look at my new classic wrist watch – analogue and non-traceable.

This is my life now—analogue and untraceable. The front desk rings my room.

“Your car is here, Miss M.”

“Thank you.” I hang up and have one last look at the sleek, expensive woman in the mirror. I don’t recognize her. She doesn’t even feel like me. Because it’s not me—it’s Miss M.

Taking a breath I leave the luxurious room behind, zoom down the lobby and I walk to the front pick up where I step into the sleek black car waiting for me.

Six hours later I’m making my way through toward London in another long sleep black car from the private airstrip the Gold Key Legal Group jet landed on.

When I arrive at the Matriarch Gold Bank, I’m treated like royalty. I’m ushered into a luxurious office where two men stand waiting—Giles Gold and Parker Keys.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Giles says, smiling warmly.

Parker gestures to the table. “There’s a lot to go through.”

Hours pass as I sign paperwork, securing my inheritance, my assets. Then, Giles hands me a small velvet case. Inside are three gold keys.

“The keys to Vivienne’s deposit boxes,” he explains. “Inside each are two bio-lock boxes.”

Parker hands me a sterile needle after they usher me into the big private room. I get the boxes and secured into a viewing room.

The instant I see the bio boxes I remember them. The fight I had with Vivienne who was always wanting me to get blood tests for this, then give blood or plasma for that. It’s bad enough becaue of my blood group the amount of times I have to give blood wherever I am to ensure if anything happens to me I have blood. I prick my finger, letting a drop of blood fall onto the scanner.

The box unlocks.

Inside, there are documents, thumb drives, confessions. They are all the same. I wonder what is on them but after having read her journals I actually don’t want to know. In fact I should get all this shit destroyed.

The last box I open has one smaller bio box in it marked Leigh .

I open it and find six vials with a thick liquid in it.

The Vials are marked:

Gold P. Gold A. Platinum P. Platinum A. Silver P. Silver A.

I know exactly what they are.

And exactly what I need to do with them.

I shove the small lock box into my purse and everything else goes back where I found it.

I lock everything away, and ready myself for the next part of my journey before I leave even Miss M. behind for good.