Stolen By The Bratva King (NYC Russian Royals #2)

Chapter 21

21

Leon

H ot water streams over my shoulders, sluicing away some tension, but not enough. Not nearly enough.

I smashed the shit out of the punchbag until my knuckles were numb, but it didn’t hit the spot. I’m still wound tight, seething with the need to claim what’s mine.

God fucking dammit.

She’s here, in my space, filling the air her presence. She got me messed up from the moment I carried her away from the church and into my world.

I’ve been losing my mind for days, but watching her from a distance is nothing compared to having her under my control. She has my name , for fuck’s sake.

Emery is my wife.

I scrub a hand over my face, breathing slowly, trying to keep myself in check.

This pull Emery has on me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. I’ve always prided myself on my discipline, but with her, it’s a thin line between control and something darker.

Through the misted glass, I catch a glimpse of movement.

Emery’s shadow hovers by the door, watching me. Her face is partially hidden, but the way her hand grips the doorframe tells me everything.

She’s curious, and she’s fighting it. I can practically feel the war going on inside her, the clash between anger and something hotter, something that makes her linger despite herself.

You wanna play, baby? You got it.

I keep my movements unhurried and deliberate, pretending not to notice her as I shut off the water. She ducks out of sight as I turn around, but I know she’s still there.

“Emery,” I say, wrapping a towel around my waist and stepping out of the shower. “Get your big beautiful ass in here. You’re busted.”

She reappears around the doorframe.

“It’s weird of you to creep in while I’m asleep and use the shower!” she exclaims. “You don’t expect me to believe there isn’t a second bathroom in this high-rise hellhole?”

I grin. “I stalked you all week, baby, every minute, day and night. Using the ensuite shower while you sleep is where you draw the line?”

Her frown makes me laugh.

“Besides,” I continue, “I like my bathroom. The fuck makes you think you can tell me what to do? You’re the creep, spying on an innocent naked man.”

She doesn’t reply, but her eyes flick over my body. I know damn well that I look good; I’m pumped up from the workout and hot water, my well-earned muscles glistening.

“Admit it,” I say. “You’re enjoying the view.”

Her gaze dips for a split second, a flicker of awareness she can’t hide. I smirk, letting my amusement show, and she flushes instantly.

“I need answers,” she says, her voice wavering. “Where’s Dante?”

I let my eyes roam over her, from the curve of her neck to the hem of her shirt, down to where her fingers are curled into fists at her sides.

She’s fighting herself, and that just makes me want to toy with her more, to push her past every line she’s drawn in the sand.

“I’ll tell you,” I say, keeping my voice low, “but it’ll cost you.”

“What do you mean?”

I arch an eyebrow. “Simple, Emery. For every question you ask, you take something off. Call it fair payment for the truth.”

Her eyes flash with irritation, her mouth pressing into a thin line. I was betting on this; after I admitted lying in the dark beside her as she moaned my name, she was on the back foot.

Humiliated though she may be, she’s unwilling to back down. Instead, she’s weighing her options, deciding whether she’s willing to play along.

She lifts her chin. “Fine. But don’t think you’re getting to me.”

I battle to keep my face neutral. My wife has no idea how much I admire her spirit.

“Of course not,” I say. “Question one. Hit me.”

Emery swallows, looking me dead in the eye. “Where is Dante?”

“Probably lying low, hiding from the cops. I planted evidence of large-scale fraud to make him look guilty as Hell.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, but I can see the tension in her shoulders ease by a fraction. Maybe she just needed confirmation that the bastard was out of her life.

But I don’t give her time to linger on it.

“Now,” I say, “The shirt first.”

She hesitates, her eyes flashing with a mixture of embarrassment and determination.

Slowly, she grips the hem of her shirt and lifts it over her head, exposing a simple lace bra that hugs her heavy breasts. She holds my gaze the entire time, daring me to look away and break the intensity of this moment.

I try to resist, but my eyes roam like they have a mind of their own, and the sight of her bare skin—her smooth shoulders, the slope of her collarbone—makes my cock twitch.

I don’t let it show. Instead, I just nod, satisfied, and gesture for her to keep going.

“What did you do to my father?” she asks, her voice tight, like she’s trying to keep it steady.

“I took all the profits from his and Dante’s shared investments. His remaining money is safe as long as he keeps his nose out of my business.”

Emery doesn’t look entirely reassured, but I can see the wheels turning in her mind. Without a word, she reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra, letting it fall from her shoulders.

Her tits are perky for their size, tipped with large reddish-brown nipples that swell before my eyes, suckable and fat.

So vulnerable, yet so stubbornly proud. Her innocent beauty sends a jolt of heat through me, but despite my rapidly growing erection, I don’t let myself react yet. Instead, I lean back, forcing myself to keep my composure.

“Ask your next question,” I say, my voice coming out a little rougher than I intended.

She wraps her arms around her midriff as though trying to hide. “What exactly do you do?” she asks. “What’s your business?”

I knew this was coming, and I won’t lie, but the whole story is unnecessary. Besides, I want those sweatpants on the floor, and I’m not gonna let a little thing like the truth get in my way.

“This and that. Business acquisitions, takeovers. I make threats, and sometimes, I remove them.”

It’s not the answer she wants. She’s weighing it, trying to parse the meaning behind my words, but she doesn’t push me further.

Instead, she lowers her eyes for a moment, gathers herself, and then slides her pants down her hips, standing before me in nothing but her panties.

It’s almost too much. The sight is enough to undo every thread of control I’ve managed to hold onto, and I feel a surge of possessiveness that’s almost primal, a fierce need to claim her, to mark her as mine.

My cock throbs painfully, and there’s no hiding the obscene bulge in the towel.

“Let’s flip the script,” I say, taking a step toward her. “I’ll ask you something. Were you telling the truth about being a virgin?”

Her cheeks flush even deeper, and she looks down, her fingers twisting together. But she nods, barely meeting my gaze as she whispers, “Yes.”

It’s my desired answer, but I’m still reeling from it. She’s like a treasure, a prize I haven’t earned.

Emery’s untouched perfection stirs something feral inside me, and I can deny myself no longer.

Without breaking eye contact, I reach down and loosen the towel around my waist, letting it fall to the floor, and I grab my cock and stroke it, drawing a gasp from her lips.

A flicker of uncertainty, mixed with raw, unfiltered desire, crosses her features. For a second, I consider holding back, giving her time to adjust and understand what she’s getting herself into.

Then I catch a shift in her posture, a shuffle of her feet as she watches me stimulate myself.

To Hell with her protestations; my wife is fooling no one. This pure, sweet angel has a needy little pussy, and I’m more than willing to oblige.

“I still have questions, Emery,” I murmur, stepping closer until there’s barely an inch between us. “But I have other ways of getting the answers.”

I snatch her waist in my hands and lean down, capturing her mouth in a kiss that’s anything but gentle.

She melts into me, her hands reaching for my shoulders, her body arching into mine as if she’s been waiting for this as long as I have.

Her skin is hot, and her supple curves engulf me, driving a growl from my throat. My cock moves between her thighs, sliding against her wetness, and she gives a mewling cry, her nipples tight where they rub against my damp chest.

“I was gonna do all kinds of things to you,” I murmur into her mouth, “and believe me, val'kiriya , I still will. But if I don’t feel those lips of yours around my cock, I’ll fucking die.”