Chapter 3
DANYL
In the passenger side of my SUV, Liza shakes from the aftermath of her first kill. I drive with one hand. The other is placed on her knee, feeling the tremors rattling through her bones. She seems to keep herself together by sheer will as her teeth chatters.
I wrapped her up in my wool coat before bundling her into the car. With her cheek pressed to the collar, I can only see part of her face and I don’t know if she’s hiding in the garment because she’s shielding herself from me or because she’s trying to stay warm. Maybe both.
I raise the temperature on the climate control system.
She’s so young, nearly half my age. She shouldn’t have had to experience the violence of taking a life. I should have been there earlier. Should have taken care of the creep before she stepped out the back door. But I got caught up in a meeting.
When I think about what I could have found if I’d been only a little bit later, I want to kill that fucker all over again. It’s my job to be her protector. I’m the monster who kills.
By the time I was Liza’s age, I’d run out of fingers to count the deaths I’d caused. Growing up on the streets of Moscow, that’s the marketable skill I learned.
I wish I could spare her this. But I don’t regret that she’s now mine.
“Just breathe,” I say quietly. My voice cutting through the sound of tires on wet pavement. “Look at me if you need to.”
She nods, her knuckles white as she stares at her lap. I gave her a wet wipe to clean the blood off her hands. Her hair falls in tangles and she sniffles into my coat, but no more tears fall from her eyes.
I want to smooth back her hair, but she’s still in shock. More touch than just my hand on her knee, could scare her even more.
Outside, the city streets are dark and slick with slush. I run the route in my mind as I drive down the roads I know lack traffic cameras. The cleanup I ordered through my text message should be in progress now, removing all traces of the asshole’s body and his car.
My regular crew knows where I’m heading and after another block, two black SUVs slip in behind us as protective escorts. I doubt news of the death has reached anyone yet, but with the precious cargo beside me, I’m not taking any chances.
Even if the asshole who attacked Liza lied through his teeth when he said he was connected, parts of law enforcement would love to stick a murder on someone connected to the Kedrovs.
The lot behind the restaurant lacked cameras, but I bet the inside does not.
Someone is on route to remove the footage, but right now the wedding and the cleanup are priorities.
We don’t know what kind of alarm system the restaurant has and can’t take the risk of setting them off until the car and body are removed, and Liza is my wife.
I watch my soon-to-be wife through sidelong glances and take in her jittery breaths, the way she bites her lip to keep from crying.
She probably thinks her actions with the knife rewrote her future, but that’s far from the truth. Working at Meridian on a night when I had business there sealed her faith.
As soon as I saw her, I knew I’d make her mine. I just didn’t know it would happen this quickly.
She’s mumbling apologies to the corpse, to me, to her father.
I let her ramble on as I drive. Her jumbled whispers a strange accompany to the wiper blades swooshing across my windshield to remove the falling sleet.
I wish I could give her more time to prepare for being married to me, but I want her safe. Need her safe.
She belongs to me now, and I protect what’s mine with everything I have.
I park in front of a squat limestone-and-steel building tucked between deserted storefronts. The two escorting SUVs flank mine and I nod to the men in front as I open my door. On the building, the windows are blacked out. A small sign declaring, “Legal Services” hangs above the entrance.
Liza’s hands are ice cold when I usher her from the car.
I rub them between mine and then place a gentle but firm hand on her lower back as we walk toward the entrance.
It swings open and an armed guard inside nods at me.
I’ve been here before, so he recognizes me, but he’s also been notified of our arrival by my boeviks, my crew.
We climb cold marble stairs and I lead Liza down a corridor that smells faintly of bleach. At the end, Jim Kertzer waits in the open door of his office. He’s a Bratva-friendly lawyer and sometimes fixer. Tonight, he’s our wedding officiant.
Kertzer studies me with cynical eyes, and then glances at Liza. His gaze softens a little. “You ready?”
I squeeze Liza’s hand. “She’s ready.”
It doesn’t matter if she’s not. She has no choice but to join my family. Alone she has a target on her back.
Kertzer slides paperwork across his desk, the marriage license. It’s already filled in with the information I got from the driver’s license in her purse and my own personal details.
His pen is gold and looks heavy. Liza holds it like it might burn her. I gently squeeze her shoulder but my voice is firm. “Sign, milaya.” The endearment slips out, but feels so right.
Worried green eyes quickly glance at my face before she does as told. Her signature is a trembling flicker.
Mine is a knife slash. Quick and decisive.
Kertzer stands, reciting vows in English, his voice is harsh, almost dismissive. This isn’t about love. It’s about necessary protection.
But for a brief second, in a weird stillness of the moment, I feel something shift inside me. Something clicks into place and I rub my chest.
“Do you, Danyl Kedrov, take this woman, Liza Ponti, as your lawful wife?”
“Da, yes,” I answer, voice certain.
He turns. “And do you, Liza, take this man as your husband?”
Her voice wavers. “… I do.”
Kertzer signs the license and then turns it so that the clerk who’s silently been waiting in the corner can sign as a witness. Finally, the lawyer stamps our marriage certificate, the thud echoing in the stillness. He hands it to me with solemn eyes. “She’s a Kedrov now.”
I nod. Family is all. Always.
Liza stares at the paper, reading her first name, with my last name, tied together forever. The moment realization sets in, her face slowly blanks into shock.
Outside the lawyer’s office building, Liza staggers, clutching my coat tighter to her shoulders. In the light from the street lamps, her eyes shine with fresh panic.
“I can’t do this,” she whispers, voice shredded.
I cup her face with both hands, tilting it so she has to look me in the eyes. “It’s already done. And you’re safe now.” My thumb catches a lone tear. “Nothing will happen to you as long as you wear my name.”
Her gaze roams across my face, as if searching for the monster she’s afraid is lurking there.
She’ll see him, soon enough.
“I want to go home,” she says.
“We will,” I say, softly. “To my home, that’s where you belong now.”
Her eyes grow wide and she starts shaking. I hug her to my chest, hoping the warmth of my embrace will make her feel better. But deep inside, I know there’s no real comfort for her tonight.
I raise my face to the falling sleet and the city watching us with its thousand blind eyes.
I give her a brief moment, but then I usher her back toward the cars where my men wait at attention. It’s not ceremony.
They’re Bratva, not groomsmen.
But the shock is clear. No one expected me to acquire a wife tonight.
Liza is shivering and pale, but she steps toward the cars resolutely and my men take a step back to show her their respect. I look my main man, Alexei, in the eye and nod my approval.
Liza’s courage impresses me. She has no idea what she’s walking into, but keeps her head high anyway.
We slip into my vehicle and as I pull out of the parking lot, the other SUVs roll out behind us. Downtown speeds by and as I focus on the empty city streets, I watch Liza out of the corner of my eye. She’s turning paler by the minute.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended.
She turns toward me. “I can’t just move in with you,” she protests. “I don’t even know you. And what about my things.”
“You’ll get to know me soon enough. And someone will get your things.”
She falls silent, but I feel her gaze scrutinizing me.
We pull up in front of my building. The security lights blaze through the darkness, revealing the five guards, trained to kill before asking questions, who keep my home secure.
As we walk up the entryway they remain silent, but stand a little taller. Liza shrinks behind me, and grabs my hand. Somehow she subconsciously knows to turn to me for protection. It pleases me.
The head guard raises his brows in an unspoken question. I never bring women to my home. When I fuck, I do so at their house or at a hotel.
“She’s Mrs. Kedrov. My wife,” I say. That’s all they need to know. With that information, I know they’ll protect her with their lives.
We ride the private elevator in silence to the top floor. As the doors open, I watch Liza’s reaction.
My home is made of marble and glass. Harsh and unyielding, like its owner.
The penthouse is cavernous, a story and a half of cold luxury, walls lined with art I barely remember buying.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sprawls beneath us, a million lights glittering like diamonds tossed aside.
Liza steps inside her eyes darts everywhere and her jaw is tight. Our steps echo on the stone floor as I guide her past the foyer.
I lead Liza into the main living space. Muted lamps join the ambient light from the windows to illuminate dark leather couches and low glass tables.
“You live here?” Her voice is barely above a whisper
“I do.” I usher her through the space toward the curved staircase in the back. Her head swivels as she tries to take it all in. Beyond the staircase is my office, but I’ll show her that and the kitchen on the other side of the apartment when she’s had some sleep.
We ascend the stairs up to the open-plan bedroom with its ensuite. There’s only one bed in my place. I don’t want overnight guests.
Liza glances at the over-sized bed, then back down at the sprawling living space, then back at me. Her lips tremble, her body folding inward, still wearing my jacket. “Where should I sleep?” she asks, voice small.
I keep my distance, arms folded. “Wherever you want. But this is the only bed in the place.” I’ll make some allowances for her to get used to her life changing so quickly.
But she needs to understand that she’s mine now.
“I can find some blankets and a pillow if you want to sleep on the couch downstairs.”
Fear, and a flicker of something else, curiosity maybe, spark in her eyes.
I want to reach for her, but hold myself back, quietly watching her as she makes her decision.
She’s silent for a long time, turning in slow circles while chewing on her lower lip. Her shoes squeak on the polished marble by the staircase.
I’m standing closer to the bed, where it’s carpeted. “I don’t touch a woman without her permission. Not even my wife.” I pitch my voice low, trying to make it gentle just for her.
She flinches at the word “wife.”
I wait for backlash, for regret, for any sign she’ll run.
Instead, she nods, and releases the lip she’s been biting. It’s swollen and glistening red from the mistreatment. An image of her on her knees in front of me, swollen red lips wrapped around my dick, enters my mind uninvited.
Inwardly I groan and turn sideways so she doesn’t notice my sudden erection. “I’ll take the couch,” I say, voice rough.
She doesn’t answer, but the relief on her face is immediate.
I dig out a t-shirt from my chest of drawers and a pair of boxer briefs. Putting them on the bed, I look back at her. She’s wrapped herself even tighter in my coat. “These are probably too big, but they’ll be okay to sleep in.”
She nods, her eyes huge in her pale face.
I grab a pair of sweats for myself and take one of the pillows from the bed. As I head downstairs, I hear her closing the bathroom door behind her. A second later, the water run through the pipes and I steel myself against the images of her naked in my multi-head shower that rise in my mind.
Tonight she sleeps alone.
But soon, I’ll make her mine. Completely.
My mind has already rewritten my earlier questions.
What will she do when I grip those hips and pull her against my hard cock?
What sound will she make when I press my mouth to her cleavage, to her pussy?
How wet will she get when I whisper what I want, what I will do to her?