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

Chapter 60

60

Three days later…

Emery

M y family home is like a circus. Ostensibly, it’s a kind of bratva field hospital, but the care is unorthodox, and the patients are…well, let’s just say everyone’s doing well.

Leon has a bruise the size of a dinner plate and a rickety rib or two, but you’d never be able to tell. A good night’s sleep and some Tylenol saw him right; I’ve needed more intervention for migraine than he did for getting shot.

He was up and about the morning after the fracas, frying bacon and eggs and making endless strong coffee for everyone.

I called Jess as soon as it was light that morning to apologize for dragging her into the mess, but she was just glad I was alright. She said she’d come by soon, but she’s happy in the sticks for now; the hospital doesn’t want her back.

Makes two of us. Debra from staffing left me three voice messages during the week I was AWOL, and in the fourth one, she told me in no uncertain terms that I was fired.

I was surprised at how little I cared; it was time to put my skills to work on my own terms.

Leon never told my father I was missing, and Demyan made up some tale about Leon and I taking a last-minute honeymoon, so when we showed up that night, Dad was astonished.

He called Leon a few choice names until he realized what went down; then, the fight went out of him, and he got out of his hospital bed so Leon could lie in it awhile. Demyan and Leon made a lot of calls, and people came and went, bringing new beds and equipment until we were set.

I keep forgetting I don’t need to be in work mode. After a shower, a meal, and some rest, I was fine, so it’s strange not to be the one doing the caretaking.

The good Dr. Brodsky checks in with me regularly, asking for advice, which is sweet of him as I know he’s only doing it to make me feel useful.

Desi spent two days in bed on an antibiotic drip. His cough eased up after the first twenty-four hours, and by the time he’d finished the course of drugs, his eyes were brighter than I’d ever seen them.

He turned his nose up at Leon’s hot breakfast offerings, but he’s gaga for Lucky Charms cereal, so when they ran out, Leon ordered a shipment and had it delivered to the house.

That kid has reliance for days—his personality has floated to the surface, and he’s a chaotic little gremlin, much to everyone’s delight.

Leon is in Manhattan today to talk to the komissiya and explain what happened with Dante and Reggiani.

The whole thing makes me nervous—apparently, the bratva old guard can be a tough crowd—so I’m distracting myself by sitting in the armchair in Dad’s study, watching him and Desi play cards.

Desi’s arrival lit a fire under my father, and he was suddenly desperate to be up and about, giving him attention. In a way, I think my father is trying to apologize to me by being kind to him, and that’s the best reparation I could ask for.

Desi has been through enough, and it warms my heart to see him throw his gappy little smile at Dad.

Desi has several cushions beneath him, but he can still barely see over the desk. There are cards in his hand and a stack on the table. Opposite him, my dad is frowning, and between them is the coveted prize; a stack of Lucky Charm mallows.

“I’m sure I was teaching him at one point, but he’s flipped the switch on me,” Dad says. “I wanted to teach him something simple, so we’re playing a Slapjack variation where we use all the picture cards to speed it up. But he keeps winning, and every time he gets to pick up the deck, he takes five mallows.”

I give Desi a look, and he giggles mischievously. Then the door opens, and Desi leaps to his feet.

“Leon!”

He runs into his arms, and Leon picks him up, tipping him upside down and making him burst into peals of manic laughter.

“I wouldn’t,” I say, going to my husband’s side and kissing his cheek. “That kid has eaten his weight in sugar.”

“The last thing he needs is Lucky Charms,” Dad says. “He’s already fortunate enough!”

Leon catches my eye and smiles. We know how fortunate Desi is, and not just in card games.

Desi is special to us both, but he and Leon have something unique between them, an unspoken bond.

At seven years old, this little boy went to Hell and came back with his head held high. Leon knows how he feels; although Desi doesn’t understand that part, he feels seen by him, just as I do.

Leon swings Desi up into his arms so he can speak quietly in his ear. “ Sakrij te karte, mali ,” he says. “You remember what that is in English?”

I love that they are learning each other’s languages. I’m learning, too, but they’re leaving me in the dust.

Desi leans close, cupping his hand around his mouth. “Hide those cards.”

“Attaboy. Go, carry on ruining deda Alec’s day while I talk to Emery.”

Desi skips back to his seat as Leon leads me out of the room, and I wait until we’re out of earshot before giving him a gentle punch.

“You gave Desi a second deck, didn’t you?” I say. “I should have guessed. Poor kid is gonna be a hardened criminal before his next birthday.”

Leon rubs his chest and laughs. “Ow, val’kiriya. Can you stop abusing me long enough for me to tell you how it went?”

I kiss him, and in the moment when his lips meet mine, I don’t care what he has to say.

Three days have passed since he saved me, and we’ve barely had a minute to ourselves. Leon insists his injuries are okay, but he hasn’t tried to be intimate with me; we’ve slept heavily in each other’s arms, but that’s all.

I want him, but he doesn’t seem to want me , and I don’t know what to do about it.

“Are you in trouble?” I ask, breaking away.

He wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me to him, not minding that I’m pressed against his tender chest.

“Not really,” he says. “They were pissed that I’d sunk The Cobra, and I’m out of pocket to get the mess cleaned up, but I’d have done that anyway. They were fucking astonished when I told them about Reggiani and Dante, though—a lot of those old fuckers remember my parent’s murders, so when I gave them the whole story, they backed off.”

My hands delve into his hair, the scent of his skin beneath his loosened collar drawing me closer until my cheek is pressed against his collarbone. I feel myself quicken, my body calling to his.

“You’re in the clear?” I ask. “That’s amazing. What’s next?”

“A few administrative things need my attention,” Leon murmurs into my hair. “But I need your attention, moya zhena . Being so close but not fucking you has been a nightmare. Please, don’t torture me anymore.”

I look at him in shock. “I thought you didn’t want me,” I say. “You were hurt, and I didn’t want to push anything, but you seemed…distant, too, like something had changed between us.”

For a split second, Leon looks heartbroken. Then he moves me until my back is pressed against the wall, his kisses hot and desperate as his hands roam over my curves.

“You went through a terrible ordeal, Emery.” He breaks away, his dark eyes locked on mine. “I let someone steal you from me, and I stole you back, but that doesn’t make you my property.

“I won’t take anything from you unless you’re sure you want to give it, but God fucking damn,” he pauses to kiss me hard again, “you’d better be sure. Because I’m so desperate to be inside you that it’s bordering on pathetic.”

His words wash over me, washing away the last vestiges of my self-doubt.

Nothing has changed. My husband wants, needs, and loves me, and I can ask for nothing more.

“I’m sure.”

I bite his lower lip, and he responds with a growl, pressing me to the wall.

“In that case,” he says, “we’d better find some privacy. Because I’m gonna fuck you like my life depends on it, and as much as I’d like to do it right here, your father wouldn’t appreciate it.”