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

Chapter 40

40

Emery

T hirty minutes is hardly a long drive, but my head is pounding when we arrive at Leon’s building. I long for my own bed in my apartment, but Leon is having none of it.

“You think I’d let you stay there?” he asks incredulously as he helps me out of the car. “The place Dante owns and has keys for? No fucking chance. He will already have cleared it out, so good job all your stuff is safe.”

He throws me a sideways glance, a smirk playing on his lips. “And it’s easier to keep an eye on you here than via a secret camera set-up.”

I stare at him, open-mouthed. “You had cameras in my apartment? You really were always watching. You know that’s not normal, right?”

He frowns. “None of this is normal,” he says as we enter the elevator. “A stalker’s mindset with a billionaire budget is a match made in heaven.”

I’m not listening. The lights seem suddenly too bright, like a tanning bed. I squeeze my eyes shut and slump against the wall as my head swims.

“What’s wrong?” Leon asks.

“Blood sugar,” I murmur. “Haven’t eaten.”

“God damn.” He tucks his arms around me and picks me up. “I thought you’d had breakfast with your father. Why didn’t you tell me?”

I suspect it was force of habit. Dante seemed to think I never needed food, that my excess body fat should fuel me just fine.

That’s bullshit, obviously, but I got used to telling him I’d have next to nothing to eat because it was usually true, especially once he demanded that I only eat with him.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Forgot.”

Leon carries me like I’m feather-light, with no signs of strain, and it feels wonderful. He even unlocks the door without dropping me and lays me on the couch.

“Here.” He tucks a cushion behind my head and retrieves a throw from his bedroom, wrapping it around me. “I was trying to make your favorite dinner the other night, before it all went to Hell. My cleaning lady tidied it away, or the place would’ve stunk of burned pork, but I have enough here to start again.”

I’m too spaced out to fully take in what he’s saying. “You’re gonna cook?” I ask. “Wow. Can you?”

He brings me a glass of water and some pills. “For your head,” he says. “No, val’kiriya , I can’t cook for shit; I live in New York, for Chrissakes. Why would I?”

“I’m not sure I want terrible ramen,” I mumble, slinging back the painkillers.

Leon laughs. “I wanna learn , Emery. I’m so wrapped up in my own bullshit, and it’d be good to get out of my head. Besides, compared to you, I’m dumb as fuck. Noodles aren’t trauma surgery, but I gotta start somewhere.”

He slaps a piece of belly pork onto a chopping board and waves his knife in my direction. “Let me look after you.”

I close my eyes and let the kitchen sounds wash over me. Leon cutting things, humming to himself as he works, like a regular guy.

He’s not a regular guy, but he’s the one I love. I can’t help it; he’s etched his name into my heart like he was carving the bark of a tree.

“How are you feeling now?” I ask.

“I wish Viktor would call. He’s not responding to me, but he’ll have a reason.”

“What about Josef? It got kinda emotional back there.”

Leon dumps hard-boiled eggs into a bowl of iced water. “To be honest, I’m ashamed. I wish I was the person my parents would have wanted me to be. A good man, someone who helps people, like they did.”

I ponder this for a moment. “What would have happened to that Reggiani guy if you hadn’t killed him?” I ask.

“He would have made deals with the cops, snitched on his friends, that kind of thing. He sure as Hell couldn’t have shown his face in New York again, not after that bloodbath.”

Leon puts a lid on the noodles and wipes his hands on a towel, looking thoughtful. “It ruined the delicate truce between lawmakers and the mob. Wealthy, high-profile philanthropists, killed in their own home? That’s some sick shit.”

“So the murders started the war?”

“Sort of. The police went after some of the mafia’s top guys and dredged up enough evidence to put them away. After that, the city fell apart, with everyone out for themselves. From that mess, the bratva rose up, and with my help, Roman stomped it down. He handed the leadership to me because I know what order and justice look like and what it costs to keep them.”

I sit up and pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. Leon dishes up the ramen, broth, and gently wilted vegetables before adding eggs and crisped-up belly pork slices.

“You came at it differently, sure,” I say as he approaches. “But you told me yourself; you wanted to stop the rot, and you did. Innocents are no longer being victimized, and the underworld won’t tolerate the kind of brutal attacks that led to your parent’s deaths.”

“I guess you’re right.”

He hands me the bowl and a pair of chopsticks. “I was too angry to be as gentle and good as my mom and dad. The society they cared so much about turned on them like a rabid dog, and I had to find an outlet for my rage. The bratva gave me a new route for justice, one I could believe in.”

We fall silent for a while, and Leon’s words echo in my mind as we eat, my headache dissipating with every bite.

The food makes me feel a lot better physically, but mentally, I’m fraying at the edges, foreboding weighing upon me.

“Your meal is acceptable, moya koroleva ?” He grins as I arch a querying brow. “It means ‘my queen.’”

“I like that. I could get used to being royalty.” I pick up a piece of pork and chew it slowly. “Very good. But you could use more five-spice if you really want to impress me.”

Leon salutes solemnly, and I giggle, happy to diffuse the tension that grips me. His face is so open, warmed by his ability to care for me, and I’m loathe to spoil it.

“Leon, I feel the Dante thing is partly my fault,” I say, setting down my almost-empty bowl. “I didn’t ask for any of this, and you gave me no choice. But if you and I had never met, you wouldn’t be dealing with him.”

Leon takes the empty bowls to the kitchen counter. “I regret nothing, val’kiriya . I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. And remember—Dante was fucking with me already by bringing his dirty flesh-for-cash business onto my patch, so we were gonna come to blows, one way or another. It doesn’t explain why he didn’t disappear as soon as he discovered what he was up against, though.”

I hear him pouring wine, and then he’s back and passing me a glass of something white and sparkling.

“You know Dante far better than I do,” he says. “Do you have an inkling? Anything about his life that I can use?”

“He was born and raised in Italy. His father was a lot older than his mom, and they hated one another; she had an affair and abandoned them.”

I pause to take a sip, the wine crisp and effervescent on my tongue. “Dante’s dad always told him women were shrewish and bitter by nature, and you have to get the upper hand, or they’ll walk all over you. Dante rambled about it sometimes when he was drunk.”

“Why did he come to New York?” Leon asks.

“He couldn’t stand his provincial life anymore. His dad had money, so when he died, he inherited just enough to make a new start here. He was doing pretty well with wise investment and some showboating for people like my dad. Why he’s involved with human trafficking, I don’t know.”

Leon takes a big swig and sighs from deep in his chest. “He’s an idiot, that’s why. A small man with a planet-sized ego. He’d make a great mafia man but lacks common sense, so this will be over soon.”

“And then?”

“Emery, let there be no doubt in your mind.” He puts my glass on the table so we can stretch out on the couch, side by side. “I’m going to kill him. He was done the moment I saw the bruises on your wrists. All the other stuff further justifies it, but I don’t answer to anyone. Anyone who hurts you better get his affairs in order because I will rain down my wrath like a firestorm and reduce him to ashes.”

I rest my head on his chest. “So dramatic. Most men just exchange harsh words.”

He wraps his arms around me. “I love you, for fuck’s sake. And my love is quite a thing, it turns out. I’m as surprised as you are, but if you’d like me to call him a prick while I murder him, I’m at your command.”

I shudder involuntarily, his words and body heat sparking something inside.

To have Leon Vasiliev as my willing slave would be a pleasure almost too exquisite to bear.

The ache behind my eyes has faded, replaced by a warmth that has nothing to do with food or wine.

I trail my fingertips up his chest, slow and teasing. He watches me, pulse thrumming beneath my hands, as I shift—one knee sliding over his hip, then the other.

I take my time, letting my weight settle, his cock stirring beneath me as I shift deliberately in his lap. His eyes widen in shock, crinkling in the corners with amusement as I lean over and pick up my drink.

“So ask, and I shall receive, is that it?” I sip my wine and look him over. “Wow. What to do, what to do. How’s a girl to decide?”

Leon’s hands twitch at his sides, instinctively reaching for me, but I press my palms down on his wrists, pinning him to the couch.

“No touching,” I murmur, enjoying how his muscles tense beneath me.

Leon’s fingers flex, his breath ragged. His instincts scream to touch, to flip me beneath him, to reclaim control.

He exhales a shaky breath. “Christ, Emery.”

I see the precise moment he lets go. His hands loosen, then slowly shift behind his head, biceps flexing, pupils blown wide.

I grind a little, and a low moan of appreciation escapes his lips.

Submission looks so damn good on him.

Maybe it’s the fizz, or the relief that comes from evading the danger. It could be seeing Leon vulnerable, healing, breaking down the barriers around his heart, and risking letting love in.

Perhaps we just love one another, and that’s all we need.

I slide my hands beneath my husband’s shirt, his powerful muscles at my mercy, and a deep sense of peace suffuses my body like a drug.

He gave this to me. Confidence, self-esteem, and a belief that I am worth something— everything , in fact.

To Leon, I’m the world and beyond, my imperfections only enhancements in his eyes. I never knew it was possible to be so treasured by a man.

I bring my face to his and grasp his chin as he’s done to me many times. He closes his eyes as our lips meet, his tongue delving into my mouth.

“Take what you want, val’kiriya ,” he murmurs. “I never thought I’d get here, but I’m in Heaven.”