Chapter 13
RORIC
We’ve been in Dallas for two days. Light streams into the room through the edges of the blinds as my eyes focus. The room has a massive bathroom, a sitting room and a den. Rosa’s family has accepted me whole-heartedly, like I’ve always been one of them. The security guys have the property well in hand in case Marco or his thugs try to breach. Rosa breathes softly in my arms. She’s wearing sweats again, but navigated herself back into my arms in the night. She may not want to accept we’re married, but her body knows. Later this morning, she’s headed out with her mother to get her hair fixed. I’ll be happy for the blonde hair to go. Maybe I should go with them for added security.
“You can let me go.”
I nuzzle her neck. “Never. Look where you’re sleeping. You moved back to my side of the bed.”
She pulls away. “Whatever.”
I reluctantly let her slip from my grasp. She gets up, and I call out to her. “Don’t you think it’s time to forgive me?”
“Have you apologized?”
I bound out of bed, entering the bathroom before she can close the door. “I have. I am sorry for not telling you who I was. I apologize for your uncles taking you. I regret not telling you sooner that you matter to me. I was wrong.” Dropping to my knees, I take her hands in mine. “I love you. You love me, too. I know it.”
She wrenches her hands from mine. “Whether or not I love you is a moot point. You lied.”
“Yes. I lied. I will do my best to never lie to you again. You have to give me a second chance.”
She turns and strips off the sweats as my cock flies to attention, bobbing against my abdomen.
She points. “Fat chance.”
Shaking my head, I step out of the bathroom to call my father.
Later in the afternoon, Rosa and her entourage of women giggle in the first-floor guest room. Her grandmother arranged for dresses with accessories for the party, and they’re all choosing what to wear for our reception Saturday night.
Jackson approaches. “Want to go to town to get a suit?”
“Yeah. I guess I should.” We walk past Banner, who’s sitting on the wraparound front porch, chatting with another man. He extends his hand. “Everything on the property is secure.”
Jackson smiles. “Excellent. Thank you, Banner. Have you met my grandson-in-law?”
I nod. “Roric.”
Banner shakes my hand and asks Jackson. “You two heading out?”
“We’ll be back soon.”
He motions for me to get into his 1967 Corvette L88. My tongue hangs out of my mouth. This car is worth millions, and he just drives it around Dallas. “Aren’t you afraid someone will scratch this?”
“Oh, it’s been scratched. I’ve repaired the body work a couple times. But I bought this off the showroom floor, so it’s always been mine.”
The drive to downtown is pretty quiet. Is this guy saving up to pounce on me with questions when we stop? He pulls in front of a Mister Tuxedo in Snider Plaza. The salesman greets us at the door, welcoming Jackson by name. He motions for us to follow into the store. “Do you know which type of tuxedo you want?”
“Yes.”
“I have Tom Ford, Giorgio Armani, Vera Wang, and Prada, just to name a few.” He looks me up and down. “Forty-two long with thirty-four waist and thirty-four length.”
“Armani.” I flick my head to Jackson, who sits down on a very uncomfortable-looking bench. “There’s a coffee shop nearby. Go grab a coffee and come back in a half hour. No reason for you to sit here.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He taps the clerk on his shoulder. “Put the tux on my account.”
I open my mouth to argue, and he shakes his head. “It’s not right to argue with your in-laws, young man.”
Twenty minutes later, I step up to the counter with my purchases hanging on the adjacent rack as the door chime rings. I expect to see Jackson, but Marco walks in with two of his goons. Handing the clerk my credit card, I glare at Marco. “Marco.”
“Roric.” His eyes scan the room. “No wife?”
“She’s at her grandparents. But I assume you know that.”
He shrugs as his two soldiers begin their trek through the store.
“I would have thought you’d have a tux.”
“Her grandparents are throwing us a reception. But you know that.”
“Yes. You should invite me.”
“It’s not my place to invite you to the White family home.”
“She’s my niece.”
“And my wife. Husband trumps uncle.”
“You’re going to be sorry you brought her to her mother’s family. They’ll try to keep her.”
“Goodbye Marco.”
He turns into Jackson’s angry gaze. “Making trouble, Marco?”
Marco laughs as he exits.
The clerk’s hand shakes as he hands me my card. I pocket it as Jackson sighs. “I told you I was paying.”
“Next time.”
“Ha. Just because you can afford to buy doesn’t mean you can’t accept my offer.”
“True. I’m used to paying for things. Rosa will want for nothing.”
He nods as he grabs my bags. “I already knew that when you got out of the SUV.”
ROSA
The kitchen door opens to two laughing men. My grandfather has his hand on my new husband like they’re bosom buddies. Seriously. My friends, my mother, and my grandmother spent the afternoon convincing me that Roric is a good guy and worthy of a second chance. The smile he offers when he sees me dampens my panties. It’s more than being horny. He’s been perfect since he rescued me.
He saunters up and kisses my head. “Good evening, ladies. Did you all have a good afternoon?”
I nod. “Katrina Petrov, my friend from high school, along with Camille and Ella Campbell were over helping to choose dresses.”
“How do you know them?”
“I met them through Katrina. They’re married to Banner’s cousins.”
“That’s nice, baby. I’m glad you have friends visiting. You’re welcome to invite them to New York anytime.”
His offer surprises me. Would they come if I invited them? I’ll have to ask at the party.
A little later, we sit around the dining table. Mrs. Martin’s corned beef dinner reminds me of my childhood when we stayed here. Conversations bounce around the room like we’ve always been together.
Roric answers my mother. “My mother made corned beef every Saint Patrick’s Day. She was British with an Irish grandmother.”
“She’s gone?”
“Yes. She died a while ago.”
I get up to clear the table with Roric as he asks. “Take a walk after?”
“Sure.”
We’re walking around the grounds. I point to the tennis court. “Do you play?”
“No. Do you?”
“Yeah. I was pretty good, too. My father forbade me to play in school, but Mama got me lessons. My tennis instructor is the one who suggested I model.”
Roric reaches up and touches the ends of my hair. “I’m so glad your hair is dark again.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong. You were beautiful with brown or blonde hair, but I love it best with its natural color.”
His compliment seems so genuine. Goosebumps rise on my arms as he wraps his arms around me.
“Let’s get back. You’re cold.”
Nodding, we head into the house.
My mother smiles at us from the sofa. “Did you enjoy your walk?”
Nodding, I yawn. “We’re heading upstairs.”
We’re silent as we use the bathroom to get ready for bed. I stare at Roric lying against the headrest messing on his phone. “What?”
“Nothing.” I turn the light off on my side of the bed and climb under the covers. I’m wearing panties and a t-shirt because the sweats at night are too warm. “Don’t take my change in clothing as an invitation.”
The corner lifts on his beautiful mouth as he pulls the covers over me. “Sleep well, baby.”
His words continue to break through the concrete walls around my heart. The heat from his body beckons me to back up against him, but I force myself to move to my stomach to sleep.
I’m running down a dark street with dark figures chasing me. Bile sits at the top of my throat as I run around a corner. It’s a dead end. Please save me. Please save me. The mantra repeats in my head. A hand touches my shoulder as I cry out.
“Rosa. Sweetheart. You’re okay.”
I startle out of the nightmare. Roric rubs his hand down my bare shoulder, around the silky straps of the camisole. “Oh, God.” Without thinking, I roll over and curl myself into his arms, sobbing.
“Tell me about the dream.” He continues to brush his gentle fingers across my skin. The feeling is magical.
I babble about running and bad guys. “I’ve never been so scared.”
“Shhh. I’m sorry. You’re here with me.”
A big part of me wants to pull away, but I snuggle in. Just for tonight.
RORIC
Tomorrow is the party. Raised voices echo from the front porch as I step off the stairs heading to the kitchen. I change course and open the door to my growling father and Banner Campbell.
Banner grits his teeth. “You’re the pakhan of a bratva; no better than the Aguilars.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. We don’t do what they do.”
Pulling the door, I move forward. “Stop!”
Both eyes flick to me with my father smirking. “We were just getting acquainted. I just came for the party.”
“Ha.” It’s never simple with the pakhan. “I invited you with the expectation you’d get along. What the fuck is going on out here?”
He flicks his hand toward Banner. “We were discussing Marco and his group. I suggested we just hunt them down and bury them in the desert. This is Texas. Bodies all over the place.”
Rolling my eyes, I motion for the two to follow me off the porch. “First, Marco isn’t a threat. Banner has the security well in hand. Two. This party is for my pregnant wife.”
Banner’s head jerks around to me. “Pregnant. That’s fast.”
I smirk. “Russian.” Poking Banner is going to be fun. Fingers did some research. There’s a family relationship between his best friend, Maxim Petrov and the Campbells. Maxim’s father has a reputation as an assassin that puts mine to shame.
His quick laugh makes me like him even more. He faces my father. “I’m prepared for Marco Aguilar. He’s a sex-trafficking, drug smuggling, murdering asshole, and I’m hoping he gives me a reason to shoot him.” His smile lifts. “This is Texas, after all.”
We both laugh as Jackson strolls up behind us. He extends his hand to my father. “Good afternoon. You must be Mikhail.”
He nods. “I am. Thank you for the invitation to celebrate.”
“You and your family are always welcome.”
My father takes the man’s arm to lead him back to the house. “You and your wife should come to New York. My treat.” The two laugh.
Banner blows out a breath. “Bravikov Bratva here in Dallas.” His words carry a weight that reminds me of who I am.
“He’s worried that Marco will try to take Rosa, and I’ll kill him.”
“You have a reputation for that.” My eyebrow raises as Banner nods. “Can’t find anyone who died by your hand that didn’t deserve it.” He clicks his tongue, and I wait for the news he’s about to share. “My grandfather, the former Vice President, Angus Campbell, will be attending with many other Campbells. You’ll be outnumbered.”
The party just got more exciting. I chuckle to myself as I walk away to find my bride.
Walking through their house, I listen to the playful banter between my father and Rosa’s mother. They’re sitting around the large kitchen table drinking sweet tea. My father, the Bravikov Pakhan, drinks sweet tea? He looks up and ticks his head at me. “It’s a good thing I brought my tuxedo. Apparently even Angus Campbell is attending.”
“So, I heard.” I sit down next to Rosa and run my fingers down her arm, eliciting a smile. “What’s Mrs. Martin making for dinner tonight?”
Raquel answers. “Another favorite of Rosa’s: chicken fried chicken.”
Rosa leans against my body as she takes in the flirting between our parents. I haven’t seen my father flirt with a woman since my mother died. My father swipes Raquel’s lock of hair behind her ear, eliciting a blush. Can’t say this has happened since my mother. He only uses random women for sex, and that’s about all.
Rosa whispers. “I think I’ll go lie down.”
“I’ll walk you up.”
She smiles. It’s the kind of smile she offered to me while we ran from her uncles. Maybe she’s thawing. I stand to help her up as approving glances show around the table. She kisses her mother’s cheek. “I’ll be back for dinner. I’m just tired.”
Swinging open the bedroom door as we rush through, Rosa turns to run her hands under my shirt. “Take it off.” The lust on her face is heady. She kicks off her shoes and drops her capris, glancing up at me. “Pants off. Take it all off.”
Nodding, I take off my shoes and shed my shirt, unbuttoning my pants as she moves to the center of the bed. My tongue hangs out. She’s stunning. I stop at the side of the bed as my cock stands at full attention. “You’re beautiful.”
“Thanks.” Cocking her head, she motions to the bed. “Fuck me.”
Thoughts swirl in my head. I’d love nothing more than to fuck her hard and make her mine again, but this needs to be more sensual. She has to know I love her. I stretch out next to her and rub my fingertips along her leg. I kiss her thigh while she shakes her head.
“Get to it.”
“Since when do you tell me what to do in bed, wife?”
She starts to move. “If you aren’t interested…”
I grasp her arm and pull her back to me to take her mouth. Her gasp gives my tongue the perfect avenue to plunder. My hand roams behind her neck to hold her exactly where I want her. She’s perfect. Moaning as I kiss her, wanting to give her my love as well as my possession. My other hand reaches up to caress the side of her breast. Her hand reaches down to stroke the length of my cock. Up and down, mimicking the rhythm of my tongue as pleasure shoots from the bottom of my toes to the head of my cock rolling through me. Breaking the kiss, I blurt out. “I need you.”
“You’re not the only one.”
I shift to kiss her stomach, making her cry out as I slide my hand down her torso, settling at the apex of her mound. Her clit is barely peeking out of the hood, and my thumb strums across.
“Oh. Yes.”
Bending my two fingers, I ease them into her heat. Her head thrashes back and forth. I know she needs relief and giving it to her is paramount in my mind.
She cries out. “Fuck me with your cock. I want to feel you.”
Her desire is all I need. I roll her onto her back and rise on my knees, gently pressing my palms to the insides of her thighs to spread her. I can smell her, and the smell is intoxicating. She wants my cock. Doubt tickles the edges of my brain. Should we talk first?
She flicks my nipple. “You tell me to stop thinking. So, you stop. I want you. I’ve forgiven you. Sometime this week I stopped being mad at you. I don’t agree with what you did, and if you lie to me again, I’ll cut your balls off.”
That’s enough. There will be things I won’t share, but I won’t lie to her. The silent promise echoes in my mind as I center my cock along her slit and press into her pussy. “Should I be more gentle?”
“God, no. I need you to fuck me.”
“Mm. I’ll do that later.” I slow my pace with long strokes, hitting her g-spot. “Right now, I’m going to love you.”
She gasps as she meets my rhythm. The slow, gentle, long strokes cause her fingers to squeeze the bedding. “Oh…” Her eyes close and the mixture of lust and love on her face humbles me.
“I love you, Rosa. You’re everything to me.”
“Move faster, damn it.”
ROSA
My heart’s racing. I hear myself moan, a throaty, wanton gasp of pleasure that makes Roric smile. My climax is building. His hand edges beneath my ass, increasing his depth, and it feels better than I remembered. I wasn’t lying. I do forgive him. His cock is deep inside me, rocking in and out at a steady pace. I love the way he fills me.
Steady panting from the extreme pleasure makes him smile down at me. Bliss hovers just out of reach. He’ll get me there. His ministrations with his fingers work with the movement of his cock, heightening my pleasure. My toes curl as sparks explode in my core. With a scream, I cry out as the pleasure peaks, catapulting me into a life-altering orgasm. Roric bends to kiss me hard to capture my cries in his mouth. His rhythm continues to draw out every drop of pleasure from my climax.
“Oh, God.”
“Sir, will do.”
I laugh. His sense of humor at all the right times adds to the reasons I love him. “I love you, Sir husband.”
“I like that.” He adjusts his hand underneath me and leans down slowly stroking his tongue against mine as he climbs his pinnacle to find his own release. He breaks the kiss to raise up on his knees again, pushing my legs farther up to increase his tempo.
His cock feels like heaven. This is exactly where I want to be every night. His thrusts lose their perfect rhythm. He’s getting close to coming. My hands move to his ass as I squeeze to spur him on. My pussy quivers as the pleasure builds. He’s going to come before I come again and the satisfaction warms my soul. “Come in me.”
He possesses me, body and soul as he cries out, filling my pussy. This time I swallow his cries as his cock empties. He shifts to the side and kisses me gently. “Was that okay?”
I know he means for the babies, and it makes me happy how he shows he truly cares. “Everything is fine. I loved it. I love you.”
Pulling me towards him, he whispers. “I love you.”
“Time for sleep. I need my beauty rest, so I look decent for the party tomorrow.”
“You are always the most beautiful woman in the zip code, baby.”
I laugh. “That’s corny.”
“Corny or not, it’s true. Let’s get you some rest.”
I snuggle into his arms and just as I drift off, my mother’s laughter catches my attention. “Your father is good for my mother.”
“Is he?”
“Yeah. She’s been hiding herself since my father made her feel like such an ugly duckling. But Mikhail seems to make her happy.” Roric’s slow breaths tell me he’s drifted into sleep, and I wonder if my mother will ever be able to find a love like ours.
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Bratva King A Bravikov Bratva Novella by L.B. Burns
He lost the love of his life. She lost all sense of herself. Together, they might find salvation in the most dangerous place of all - his arms.
Mikhail Bravikov is a ruthless pakhan, a widower forged in the fire of heartbreak and hardened by bloodshed. Since the death of his soul mate, he's drowned his grief in one-night stands and violence, ruling his bratva with an iron fist and a frozen heart.
Then Rachel walks into his world.
The discarded wife of a rival, Rachel has spent years hiding her body, her beauty, her fire. But Mikhail sees what others overlook: the glow beneath her scars, the strength behind her silence. And once he decides she's his, nothing will stop him from claiming her.
But in a world where loyalty is bought with blood and betrayal lurks behind every kiss, Rachel must decide if she's strong enough to stand beside a king or risk being crushed by the crown.
"Bratva King" is a steamy, emotional, modern-day mafia retelling of The Ugly Duckling . The fourth standalone novella in the Bravikov Bratva series by L.B. Burns. Perfect for readers who crave dominant men, fierce heroines, and dangerous love that scorches the page.