Vitaly (Las Vegas Petrov Bratva #3)

17. Vitaly

17

VITALY

I can smell her perfume.

It hasn’t affected me before, but now, as I drive down the last gravel road to our destination, I find myself leaned ever so slightly toward Mila to chase the scent. It smells expensive, and for some reason, I want to ask if Nikita bought it for her. For some reason I care.

“ Vitaly. ” My name leaves her lips in an exasperated huff. She doesn’t bother asking where we’re going again.

“Almost there.”

She sighs and slouches in her seat but doesn’t speak again for the rest of the drive past the little house and down the path to the lake. I park the car at the shoreline and stare out at the glistening water, letting my hand relax on the wheel.

Memories surge, but I don’t allow myself to get lost in them. I turn off the car and sit back in my seat.

“This is it.”

Mila’s face scrunches as she looks around. “It’s a lake.” She eyes me warily. “I know you view me as a prisoner and all, but do you really think I haven’t seen a lake before?”

I gesture to the land with a splay of my hands. “This is where we would’ve gotten married if things had gone differently.”

The wrinkles on her face disappear as her lips relax. She looks around, trying to take in the area like I have, but she doesn’t have the memories I do.

“It was my father’s property,” I explain, looking out at the water. “He used to take me fishing here when I was a child while my mom read inside the little house back there. I didn’t realize it then, but I think he was mostly bringing us all out here so she could escape. Still, those are some of my favorite memories with him.”

I see him now, standing outside the window, a fishing pole in his hand, trying his hardest to explain life to me. He taught me so much, but I didn’t absorb any of it until he was dead.

“When I got older, it was the party spot,” I say, my eyes moving farther out while my finger lifts to point. “My friends and I used to throw bonfires every Friday night. I lost my virginity to Christy Finiky on a blanket by that tree over there.”

“Wow, that’s really romantic,” Mila deadpans. “No wonder you picked this spot to get married. What a lucky girl I would’ve been.”

I chuckle half-heartedly but let it die in my throat. “I didn’t choose it. My mother did.”

When I look over, Mila is watching me intently.

“It wasn’t a secret in my house that I didn’t want to get married, so I assure you, it wasn’t for my benefit. She just, uh…” I show my palm while remembering my mother telling me the wedding plans she’d decided for me. I hated the idea. Hated the idea of ruining the fun of this place. “She wanted you to be able to get married on more neutral ground. The mansion is big, cold, and intimidating, and she felt it wasn’t an accurate representation of the family you were marrying into… In truth, I think it just reminded her of my grandfather, and she wanted to have a shot at enjoying the day. And for you to have a shot at enjoying the day.”

I look in the rearview but don’t spot the house. It’s too far back to see in the dark. “This was her favorite place in the world.”

“She sounds like a kindhearted woman.”

I nod. “She was. I wish you could’ve known her.”

Mila’s quiet for a moment. “So… She didn’t like your grandfather?”

My lips pull into a smile, though I feel very little amusement. It’s more bitterness that tilts my lips. Strange how I never felt such contempt for the man growing up.

“You were around. You know the answer to that.”

She opens and closes her mouth before looking at her lap. Whatever she knows, she looks too uncomfortable to say. It’s unlikely that I’ll be surprised.

“Not really.” She shrugs. “I know she left the mansion after you ran away. If she hated your grandfather, I’m sure she was glad to go.”

After I ran away .

My eyes narrow. Everything about her posture tells me she’s serious. She didn’t say it like a sarcastic dig. She said it matter-of-factly.

Because she really believes I ran away.

Wow.

“She wouldn’t have been glad to go,” I say, remembering the worry my mother had in the days leading up to Mila’s arrival. She carefully picked out, decorated, then redecorated Mila’s room. Grilled me on etiquette. Practiced making traditional dishes, doing everything she could to make sure my future bride felt at home. “She was like you. Stubborn . Plus, both my parents cared for you deeply. She would’ve treated you like her own, marriage or no marriage. And Mila…”

I shift to fully face her. “I didn’t run away. I was a brat, but I never would’ve abandoned my mother like that. Or Alik. I was forced onto a plane before my father was even in the ground. Then a week into being in Russia, the cops came to my door with a tip that I was a drug dealer. They found drugs that someone had planted in my apartment, then they tortured me until I gave a full, bogus confession. If I’d known what prison was going to be like, I probably would’ve just asked them to kill me.”

She stares at me for several moments, her jaw slack before she diverts her eyes. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Your grandfather was … something else.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“Sorry I called you a traitor,” she says with an apologetic frown. It’s sweet.

I just shrug.

“You know…” Mila fiddles with the collar of her blouse. “Even though you say your mother never would’ve left me at the mansion, I’m glad she did… I know she died, but I’m glad she got a little bit of time away.”

“Yes, I’m sure she had a wonderful time trying to make it on the street as a mourning widow with no money, no family, and no job history.” Hearing my own sharp tone sobers the sudden burst of anger. I take a breath, running my hand through my hair. “Sorry.”

Mila shakes her head. “Don’t be.”

Silence snakes its way into the car for several seconds while Mila stares at the water. I try to relax in my seat. She looks so beautiful right now, and I think maybe she always did. I’ve just been blind.

“I don’t know if you want to hear this…” Mila swallows and wipes her hands on her thighs.

“What is it?”

Mila seems to prepare herself, shifting in her seat. “Your mother didn’t suffer financially… One day, when I was cleaning Nikita’s room, I saw an envelope with her name on it that was full of cash.”

My neck is stiff as I look away, casting my eyes out at the lake. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“No, it doesn’t, I agree. And honestly, it can be hard to imagine Nikita being capable of caring for another human being.”

I sigh. “But?”

“But I was around when she died. Her funeral was a day after Vova’s, and everyone was required to attend, even though it’s rumored that she poisoned the wine that killed them both. A rumor, which by the way, if Nikita hears, you can bet whoever speaks of it is dead.”

“How sweet.”

“I know how to read Nikita’s moods,” Mila goes on. “At his father’s funeral, he seemed almost satisfied. I’d never felt so safe. But at your mother’s?” She shakes her head. “He was murderous for days.”

“I’m sure she’d be thrilled to know she brings out the best in him.”

“There’s a box on the top shelf of his closet with some of her things, including her framed photo. Want to know what he keeps of your grandfather’s? Not a damn thing.” Mila huffs, exasperated. “One time, someone picked a lily from her old garden for a girl when they were both smashed, and Nikita slit both of their throats for it. He’s a vicious sadist, I won’t bother arguing against that, but for the people Nikita loves, he will burn the world to the ground. All I’m trying to say is she was one of those people. And I’m only saying it so you aren’t picturing her suffering on the street.”

My chest is heavy as I stare out at the water. It weighs me down, pulling me forward and making me slouch.

“He kept the flowers?” I ask, my tongue feeling as heavy as my chest.

“Yes.”

I blink but say nothing. When Mila puts her hand on mine, I turn toward her.

“But … her son or not, you aren’t one of the people he loves. If you stay, he’ll hurt you.”

“Why do you sound worried for me?” I ask, a slight, lighthearted tilt to my lips. She returns my smile, but it’s just as low-energy.

I turn toward the lake again and try to relax, try to push the emotion away. I’m glad my mother didn’t suffer all the pain she could have. All the pain I’d pictured . I wish I’d been the one to prevent it.

But I wasn’t. There’s nothing I can do about that now.

Wiping my hand over my face, I get the sudden urge to run. It happens frequently, like my mind and body remember I’m no longer caged and wish to test my freedom. It would be a little strange to hop out and take off with Mila here.

Lowering my hand, the water catches my attention, and I get an idea.

“Do you want to go swimming?”

Mila’s brows shoot up. “Swimming?”

I nod.

“It’s winter .”

“It’s Vegas .” I chuckle and lift the hem of my shirt. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what a real winter feels like.”

“ No , I haven’t forgotten.”

I pull my shirt over my head then open my door. “Good. Come on.” I waggle my brows before stepping out of the vehicle. Her door slams, and she comes around just as I’m stepping out of my jeans.

“Vitaly, seriously. The air may not be freezing, but the water is.”

My teeth flash as I pull my socks off and shrug. She wraps her arms around herself like already she’s bracing for the cold of the water.

She’s nervous. I can see it in the way her eyes bounce around. The sight has my lips stretching, and I give her one last look before running the few steps to the water. Cold water splashes onto my calves as my feet sink into mud, sending adrenaline rushing through my veins. As soon as the water is to my knees, I press my palms together and dive, submerging myself.

A brief second passes while I let my body accept the shock of the cold. It doesn’t so much as bite as it does envelope me, wrapping me in an icy cocoon that pauses my lungs.

Then, with as much fervor as my body will allow, I paddle my arms, kicking my legs to help glide me through the water. Endorphins flood my brain and spill out into my muscles, making the cold water feel like an old friend. One that doesn’t despise me.

When I feel the first dip of energy, I pull up, wading in the vast lake while sucking in large gusts of air. I turn to see Mila at the shoreline. She’s far away, the moonlight revealing just a peek of her bare skin.

Smiling, I start back to the shore, my pace leisured as I catch my breath. Mila’s heels are submerged by the time I approach, her arms wrapped around her exposed stomach.

She’s wearing a black lace bra and panties that hardly do much for modesty. Her waist curves into an hourglass, leading into hips my hands itch to hold. She’s undeniably sexy, but her face, so unsure and nervous, catches my attention more than anything. I doubt she’s nervous about the lake. She’s nervous about me. I can’t blame her. Trusting me is a dangerous thing.

“You’re insane,” she says as I trudge toward her, water dripping down my skin.

When I reach her, I gingerly take her hands and lead her a step forward.

“ Vitaly ,” she protests, tugging against my grasp and digging her heels into the mud. “I’m not letting you give me hypothermia.”

I chuckle and step closer to her until we’re nearly touching, causing Mila’s eyes to widen slightly. Water sloshes as she tries to shuffle backward, but I hold her hands close to my hips to keep her from getting far.

“You can swim for five minutes in ice cold water before hypothermia sets in. This water is at least twenty degrees warmer than that.”

“Oh really?” She huffs, but her words are breathless. “So you brought a thermometer with you, then?”

I snicker and release her hands when she tugs, but she doesn’t step back. She stares at me, her uneven breaths hitting my lips.

“No?”

I shake my head.

“Then what makes you so sure?” she asks, still trying to put on a teasing, sarcastic front. Still pretending she isn’t terrified of being this close to me.

I lift a shoulder as if I’m not sure of the water’s temperature, although I am. I know my body’s limits, along with others, and we aren’t even close to pushing it. “I’ve spent a lot of time cold.”

She’s hesitant for a few moments, but when she pulls in a deep breath, she seems to accept that answer.

Instead of taking her palms, I give in to temptation and wrap my hands around her waist. I tug her until she’s pressed against me, then I slowly move us backward into the water.

The ground dips several inches, and she gasps when she sinks, falling into me as she clings to my chest. I guide us until the water kisses her belly button, leaving her shivering against me. My body shivers as well, but I barely notice it. Can barely notice anything beyond the feel of Mila’s hips beneath my palms, her warm breath, the vulnerable look on her face.

My feet pause while I trail my hands to the backs of her thighs, studying the excited look in her wide eyes as I lift her from the water and bring her to my waist where she wraps her legs around me.

“Are you ready?” I ask, my voice low.

She takes a few seconds to answer, but finally, she peers down at my chest and opens her mouth. “I don’t know how to swim.” She clenches her eyes shut. “I mean, I do . But I haven’t since I was a kid. I’m not sure I want to see how well I could do now, so let’s stay close to the shore, okay?”

Pushing back her hair, I lay my forehead on hers. When our noses touch, I close my eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“ No .”

My lips pull into an amused grin as I open my eyes. “Then why are you out here with me?”

Her mouth stays closed as she stares at me, hands clamped against my arms, legs a vice around my waist. Her lips beg to be kissed, but it doesn’t feel like the right time. Not yet.

Closing my eyes, I bring her head to my chest then fall back into the water, waiting a moment for the cold to say hello before kicking my feet off the lake floor and propelling us backward.

Mila gasps for air when we come up, throwing her hair out of her face as she leeches to me like a drowning animal. I turn us around and swim until my feet no longer touch, despite Mila’s obvious fear. It’s hard to say why. The desire to win her trust overrules the desire to coddle her mind. And I think it just occurs to me that she can take it. She can take fear, cold, and even pain. I get the sense that she might even like it the same way that I do. That it makes her feel alive the same way it makes me.

I was wrong about her. Nine years ago, a week ago, and even earlier today, I was wrong about her.

She isn’t weak. Or stupid. Or slimy.

She’s loyal . And strong , stronger than any woman I’ve ever known. She fights for her dignity even when it’s stripped from her again and again and again. She trains for battles she isn’t invited to. She doesn’t leave not because she’s a fool, but because she refuses to run from a fight, even if I don’t understand what it is she’s fighting for.

She is a warrior .

I am the fool.

“You’re fucking crazy.” She lets out a nervous laugh as we wade in the water, her chest heaving against mine. Her shoulders quiver with her shivers, and her lips, normally red, are a pale blue.

My teeth chatter along with hers as I stare at those lips, but still, I’m stopped from kissing them. Something she said earlier sticks in my mind and holds my attention.

For the people Nikita loves, he will burn the world to the ground.

That’s it. That’s what she wants. That’s what it is she’s fighting for.

Him .

Well, not him. His power.

“What?” she asks, reading my troubled expression.

I take a few moments to answer, unsure if the truth is the right thing to say, but knowing it needs to be said. The tension of Nikita wedges between us as an invisible force that’ll never go away unless she sets it free. We’ll always be enemies with it between us, no matter how good our bodies feel together.

But worst of all, I’m afraid her mind will never be free of his grasp, no matter what shackles come off.

“You’re never going to be one of the people he burns the world to the ground for.”

Her face softens with pitiful understanding, but she doesn’t look as hurt as I expect. She nods, her eyes holding a certainty in them that I get the feeling she just discovered for the first time. “I know.”

With that, her arms wrap around my neck, and she leans into me, pressing her blue-tinged lips to mine. I close my eyes and feel a warmth work its way through me, numbing me to the cold.

My hand lifts to her face as her tongue slides past my lips, kissing me with intensity I don’t deserve but accept nonetheless. Our bodies tremble in each other’s arms as we come undone, melding into one another in a way I didn’t know possible. Her lips shift a piece of my mind, changing everything I thought I once knew.

It’s with this kiss that I understand my father’s choice. I don’t know how he knew it would be like this, but he did. He saw things I never could, and I wish with aching regret that I could rewind time and do things differently. Wait the five years until she turned eighteen, watch her train in the gym. Watch her turn into the woman she is now. Everything could have been different, and yet still, it seems I’m getting it anyway. For now.

I want her. In a bed, in a lake, on the hood of the Jeep. I want her in every way she’ll take me. I don’t know how we’ll ever go back to the mansion. Don’t know how I’ll ever drive her back to my uncle when in this moment, she feels so irrevocably mine.

I deepen my kiss at that thought, needing her to know without words what’s in my head. We can never go back to the way it was before. She can never claim to be my enemy again.

She gasps as she pulls away, her blue lips even bluer. Her shaking seems to have intensified as well, a clear indicator that it’s time to get out of the water.

Without a word, I press my forehead to hers and allow myself just another few moments like this before I move her to my back and swim to shore.

We leave our clothes on the ground and rush inside the Jeep to blast the heat while we quake in each other’s arms in the backseat, warming each other with our rising body heat.

Mila says nothing the entire time, and I remain quiet as well, letting her stay in her head. For me, this is easy. Convenient even. For her … not as much. She has choices to make that go beyond what she feels inside or even what she wants.

We stay this way for a long time, letting the night pass with only one thing for certain…

Nothing will ever be the same.