Chapter 24 Ledger
LEDGER
Mason’s breakdown is still trending online when Silas walks into my office with a new problem.
“The Petrov family is moving product through your territory.”
I look up from the contracts I’m reviewing. “Excuse me?”
“Drug shipments. Running through the docks in Red Hook. That’s your distribution zone, and they’re operating without permission.” Silas sets down a folder with photos. Shipping manifests. Surveillance shots of men I don’t recognize unloading containers.
I flip through the evidence, anger building with each page. “How long has this been going on?”
“At least three weeks. Maybe longer.”
“And you’re just telling me now?”
“We only confirmed it yesterday. Wanted to be sure before bringing it to you.”
The Petrovs. A smaller Bratva family, based in Brooklyn, smart enough to stay out of my way. Until now.
“Get Matteo Petrov on the phone. Tell him we need to meet.”
“You want to go to war over this?”
“I want to remind him whose territory he’s operating in.” I close the folder. “But we do it smart. No bloodshed unless absolutely necessary.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“The Children’s Hospital Gala. Next Saturday. It’s neutral ground, public enough that everyone has to behave. Invite the Petrovs. Make it clear this is a business meeting, not a social call.”
Silas nods. “You taking Savannah?”
“Of course. She’s good at this. And the Petrov wives will be there. She can keep them occupied while I handle their husbands.”
“You’re using your pregnant wife as a distraction at a Bratva negotiation?”
“I’m bringing my wife to a charity event where I happen to be conducting business.” I lean back in my chair. “And yes, she’ll distract them. She’s brilliant at it. Get Matteo on the phone.”
I find Savannah in her office, working through marketing reports with the kind of focus that makes her forget to eat lunch.
“We have plans Saturday night,” I say from the doorway.
She looks up, pushing her glasses up her nose. I didn’t even know she wore glasses until she started working from home. Another detail I’m collecting about her.
“What kind of plans?”
“A charity gala. For the Children’s Hospital. Very fancy, very public, very important.”
“Okay. What’s the real reason we’re going?”
“Can’t I just want to take my wife to a nice event?”
“You can. But you don’t.” She spins her chair to face me fully. “What’s really going on?”
This is why I love her. She sees through every layer I put up.
“There’s a territorial dispute. Another family is operating in my distribution zone without permission. The gala is neutral ground for negotiations.”
“So it’s a business meeting disguised as charity work.”
“Exactly.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Their wives will be there. Three of them, from what I understand. I need you to keep them occupied while I negotiate with their husbands. Can you do that?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Of course.”
“It might get uncomfortable. These aren’t corporate wives. They’re Bratva wives. They know what their husbands do.”
“So do I.” She stands and crosses to me. “I can handle it, Ledger. I’ve handled French investors and Italian hoteliers. I can handle some mob wives.”
I pull her close. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
“You keep telling me. I’m starting to believe it.”
Plaza Hotel ballroom is transformed for the gala. Crystal chandeliers, white orchids everywhere, a string quartet playing near the dance floor. Five hundred people in designer clothes, drinking champagne, and pretending they’re here for the children.
Most of them probably are. But scattered throughout the crowd are people like me. People who use events like this for business that can’t be conducted anywhere else.
Savannah looks stunning in a midnight-blue gown that shows off her growing bump. She’s sixteen weeks now, and it’s visible. Beautiful.
“There.” I nod toward a group near the bar. “That’s Matteo Petrov. The tall one with the beard. The women with him are his wife Irina, his brother’s wife Natasha, and his sister Katya.”
Savannah studies them. “They look normal.”
“They are normal. That’s what makes this life complicated.”
Matteo sees me and nods. An acknowledgment. We both know why we’re here.
“Ready?” I ask Savannah.
“Yep.”
We approach together. Matteo extends his hand, and I shake it firmly.
“Ledger Volkov. It’s been too long.”
“Matteo. Thank you for coming.” I gesture to Savannah. “This is my wife, Savannah.”
Their eyes widen slightly. They’ve heard about me getting married. Probably didn’t believe it until now.
“Mrs. Volkov.” Irina extends her hand. She’s elegant, mid-forties, wearing enough diamonds. “How lovely to meet you.”
“Please, call me Savannah.” My wife’s smile is warm and genuine. “I love your dress. Is that Valentino?”
And just like that, she’s in. The women gravitate toward her, talking about fashion, designers, and where they got their jewelry. Within minutes, they’ve moved to a quieter corner, deep in conversation.
Matteo watches them go, then turns to me. “Your wife is charming.”
“She is. Shall we talk?”
We move to a private alcove, away from the crowd. Matteo’s brother, Angelo, joins us, along with their head of security.
“You’re moving product through Red Hook,” I say without preamble. “That’s my territory.”
“We’re simply using available routes.” Matteo’s voice is casual, but his eyes are sharp. “No harm intended.”
“Harm is being done. You’re operating without permission, without paying tribute, without any acknowledgment that you’re in my zone.”
“The docks are big, Ledger. Plenty of room for everyone.”
“Not when you’re cutting into my distribution network and not when you’re using my contacts without compensation.” I lean forward slightly. “This ends now.”
“Or what?” Angelo speaks for the first time. “You start a war over some docks?”
“I don’t start wars. I end them.” I keep my voice even, controlled. “But I prefer to solve problems through conversation. Which is why we’re here, at a charity gala, being civilized.”
Matteo studies me for a long moment. “What do you propose?”
“Redirect your operations. There are other routes into the city. Use them. Stay out of Red Hook, and we have no problem.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then I make it very difficult for you to operate anywhere in New York. Customs gets tipped off about your shipments. The port authority starts inspecting every container with your name on it. Your buyers start getting arrested.” I pause.
“Or we can skip all that and handle it the old way. Your choice.”
Matteo knows what “the old way” means. Blood. Bodies. A war neither of us can afford.
“We’ll redirect,” he says finally. “But I want something in return.”
“What?”
“Brooklyn Heights. There’s a building there, perfect for our operations. But it’s in your territory. I want permission to use it.”
I consider this. Brooklyn Heights isn’t critical to my operations. And giving him something makes this feel like a negotiation instead of a surrender.
“Fine. But you pay tribute. Five percent of whatever moves through that building.”
“Three percent.”
“Four. And that’s my final offer.”
Matteo extends his hand. “Deal.”
We shake, and the tension in the alcove dissipates. Angelo looks disappointed. He probably wanted a fight.
“One more thing,” Matteo says. “My wife is having a birthday party next month. You and Savannah should come. Show of good faith.”
“We’ll be there.”
We return to the main ballroom, and I find Savannah still with the wives. She’s laughing at something Katya said, completely at ease.
When she sees me, she excuses herself and joins me. “How did it go?” she asks quietly.
“Deal’s done. They’re backing off.”
“Good. Because Irina was about to invite us to their summer house in the Hamptons, and I wasn’t sure how to respond.”
“We’re going to her birthday party next month.”
“Oh, wow,” She says, taking my arm. “Do I need to buy a gift?”
“Probably. Ask Natasha and Katya what she likes.”
We stay at the gala for another hour, making appearances, talking to people who think we’re just another wealthy couple supporting children’s healthcare.
In the car ride home, she’s quiet. I watch her stare out the window at the city passing by.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Just thinking.”
“About?”
“You. The way you handled that.” She turns to me, and there’s something in her eyes I haven’t seen before. Heat. Intensity. “The way Matteo and his brother looked at you. Like you were the most dangerous person in the room.”
“I probably was.”
“I know.” Her hand slides up my thigh. “And it was incredibly attractive.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re turned on by me threatening people?”
“I’m turned on by you commanding respect. By watching you handle dangerous men like it’s nothing.” She leans closer. “By seeing everyone in that room understand exactly who you are.”
When we get to the penthouse, we barely make it to the bedroom.
She’s on me the moment the door closes, pulling at my tie, my jacket, desperate in a way that’s new and intoxicating.
“I want you,” she breathes against my mouth. “Now.”
We manage to make it to our bedroom, and the door slams shut.
Savannah is pressed against me, fingers ripping my tie loose, nails clawing at my shirt.
The city lights pour through the windows, silver stripes across her midnight gown, and the soft curve of her belly—sixteen weeks, just enough to show, just enough to drive me insane.
“Watching you own that room,” she pants against my mouth, “threatening those men like it was nothing…fuck, Ledger, I’m soaked.”
I grab her throat, gentle but firm, and back her against the wall. “You liked seeing your husband be the monster, princess?”
She nods, pupils blown. “I want the monster to ruin me.”
I spin her, yank the zipper down her spine. The gown pools at her feet. Black lace bra, matching thong, and that perfect little bump glowing under the moonlight. I palm it possessively. “This belly is mine. This body is mine. And tonight I’m reminding you exactly who you belong to.”
I shove her to her knees. She hits the rug with a soft thud, already reaching for my belt. I fist her hair, tilt her face up. “Open.”
She obeys instantly, pink tongue out, eyes locked on mine. I free my cock, and feed it to her slowly. One thick inch at a time until she gags, tears springing, mascara streaking. I hold her there, buried to the root, feeling her throat flutter.
“That’s it, baby. Choke on your husband’s cock. Show me how much you love being my dirty little wife.”
She moans around me, the vibration shooting straight to my balls. I pull back, let her gasp, then fuck her mouth in short, ruthless thrusts. Spit drips down her chin, onto her tits, soaking the lace. I reach down, rip the bra open, and pinch a nipple hard enough to make her cry out around my shaft.
“Good girl. Now taste how wet you are for me.”
I haul her up, spin her again, and bend her over the foot of the bed. Her thong is drenched. I tear it off, spread her open, and sink three fingers deep. She screams into the sheets, back arching, bump pressing into the mattress. I pump hard, curling, thumb grinding her clit until she’s shaking.
“Look at this greedy cunt,” I growl, adding a fourth finger, stretching her wide. “Pregnancy making you extra sloppy for me, princess?”
“Yes—fuck—Ledger, please—”
I pull my fingers free, glistening with her slick, and shove them into her mouth. She sucks greedily, tongue swirling, moaning like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted. “That’s you, baby. That’s how fucking desperate you are for my cock.”
I line up and slam home in one brutal thrust. Her walls clamp down, hot and velvet, milking me. I grip her hips, pound into her, the bedframe slamming the wall with every stroke. Her bump sways gently, and the sight nearly ends me.
“Tell me who owns this pussy.”
“You do—God, you do—”
“Louder.”
“You own me, Ledger! Fuck your pregnant wife—ruin me!”
I spank her ass hard, watch the flesh jiggle, then reach around to rub her clit in vicious circles. She comes instantly, screaming my name, squirting down my cock and balls, soaking the sheets. I don’t stop fucking her through it, harder, deeper, until she’s sobbing from overstimulation.
I pull out, flip her onto her back, spread her legs wide. Her bump glows under the city lights, tits bouncing with every breath. I slide back in slowly, savoring the way she flutters around me.
“Look at you,” I rasp, hand splayed over her belly. “Carrying my kid, still begging to be fucked raw.”
She claws my shoulders, heels digging into my ass, and I lose it. Slam home once, twice, and roar as I come, pumping her full, thick spurts painting her walls until it leaks out around my cock. She comes again, walls spasming, milking every drop.
We collapse sideways, still joined, my hand cradling her bump. Cum drips slowly and filthily between us. Her thighs tremble against mine.
“Still turned on by the monster?” I murmur against her neck.
She laughs, breathless. “Always. Don’t ever stop being him.”
I kiss the mark I left on her throat. “Never, princess.”