Chapter 29 Petyr
PETYR
She’s soft against me. Warm. Her breathing is slow, steady. Like she’s deep in a dream she isn’t keen to leave. My hand moves to stroke her hair, but I stop myself in time.
I shouldn’t risk waking her. I should pull away, give her space.
More than that, I should give myself space from her.
No matter how good the sex was, this whole thing between us is a business deal. I need to hammer that into my skull, remember exactly why we’re here right now.
My father’s demands.
A wedding.
An heir.
All I needed to do tonight was fill her up, and I did that.
Repeatedly. Staying like this, with my arm slung across her waist, finger splayed against her stomach, watching her breaths even out in her sleep—it’s not part of our agreement.
Nor is burying my nose in her hair, smelling the faint scent of shampoo that clings to her.
So sweet, so clean. A scent like that has no place here, with a man like me.
Suddenly, Sima shifts in her sleep, pressing back into me. An unconscious gesture, but it still has me clenching and unclenching my fist.
She burrows deeper into my warmth. A muscle in my jaw jumps.
I’m not used to this. Sticking around once the sex is done has never been my style. I get clean, get dressed, get out. I don’t stay.
But this is my bedroom, so that’s not gonna work.
You own a couch. Several guest bedrooms, too. Go sleep there.
But I don’t move.
I trace the curve of her naked hip with my fingertip. Slow, light, too light to wake her. She’s gorgeous like this, all bare skin and fucked-out softness, still slick between her thighs.
Mine.
The thought comes uninvited, sharp as a blade in the ribs.
You know better than that. The dark, rough voice of the pakhan inside me wars with the man. She’s a means to an end. To her, so are you.
But when I look at her, that possessive feeling doesn’t go away.
She’s full of secrets, my little fox. I know she is. Hell, so am I. But I know all about her dirty little secrets, the lies she heaps up to bury the truth of who she is. She’s the one who has no idea. That I’ve known all along, that I’m using her.
I swat the guilt away like a fly.
Sima moans into her pillow. Shifts again, letting the sheets slip off of her. I let my eyes travel over the round curve of her ass, the perfect dip of her waist. Her creamy skin, milky in the moonlight.
It’s easy to speak of deals. My father’s will is ink and paper, black on white, unmistakable in its interpretation. But this… this is flesh and blood. She is flesh and blood. And when I let myself see her that way, suddenly, I’m not thinking about survival anymore.
That’s the most dangerous thing about her: Her power to make me forget.
A buzzing fills the room. My phone on the nightstand, hooked to the charger. I’m tempted to ignore the call—it’s not even 4:00 A.M. Whoever it is, it can wait until morning.
But the pakhan in me won’t let go.
Careful not to wake Sima, I reach over and press the phone to my ear.
There’s a scrape of static before Lev coughs. His voice is tight, hurried. “We’ve got a problem.”
“Of course we do,” I murmur as I swing my legs out of bed. The chill of the floor steals away the last trace of warmth from Sima’s body against mine.
“They found the driver,” Lev says. “But the shipment’s gone, man. Weapons, cartridges—all of it.”
My gut tightens. “Gone.”
“Gone,” Lev confirms. “Not a fucking trace. It’s like they knew, Petyr.”
I resist the urge to punch through a wall, if only for Sima’s sake. “I’ll be right there.”
Lev hesitates. It’s that fucking pause he does before saying more words I won’t like, so I hang up before he can. Whatever it is, it can wait until I get there.
I pull on my pants and shirt, then my jacket, padding barefoot through the room so Sima won’t wake up. It’s not thoughtfulness—it’s practicality. If she wakes, she’ll have questions. Questions I won’t feel like answering.
In my bed or not, she’s still a Danilo.
And the less the Danilos know, the better.
Once I’m fully dressed, I turn to her once more. She’s curled up in the space I left, as if she’s been looking for me in her sleep. Her hand is resting where mine was just moments ago.
The sight sticks like a splinter.
Lev’s words were clear. This is an emergency. I have to go there now and deal with this. But the pull to stay here is stronger than I’d anticipated.
If I set the phone down, I could slide back into bed.
Wake Sima up with a kiss. Feel her sleep-soft mouth part for me, her warm body wrap around mine, until she’s moaning just like before.
I could slip back inside her with a single thrust. I bet she’s still wet from earlier, sticky in all the right places.
I could make her stickier. Feel her clench around me as she whimpers into my mouth, make her cum on my cock.
Fuck her until she makes me forget the weight of Lev’s call, the responsibilities that wait for me outside that door.
Until she makes me forget I’m the pakhan.
But I can never forget that. Not for long.
By the time I’m at the warehouse, I can still see Sima’s sleeping figure in my head. Bare skin, warm body, that adoring look she gave me last night after I’d fucked the sense out of her. Being here, in the cold stink of piss and torture, is the last thing I want.
The men are already there. Lev is off to the side, speaking in hushed tones to Mikhael. No Ivan this time, but a bunch of middle-ranking soldiers that I remember tasking with the job of escorting the truck safely to its destination.
The driver is tied to a chair in the middle of the room, looking like he’s ready to piss himself. Again, judging by the dark stain on his pants.
I crouch in front of him. “Talk.”
The driver swallows hard. “I-I swear I don’t know anything!”
“Wrong fucking answer.”
My fist connects with his face. The crunch of bone echoes sharply in the air.
The chair staggers before righting itself again. Whatever remaining piss the man had been holding on to, he isn’t holding on to it anymore.
I ignore the sharp smell of ammonia and grab him by the lapel. “You had one job. One. And now an entire shipment is gone.”
“I d-don’t know—”
“You ran,” I snarl. “That means you fucking know something.”
“They s-stole it!” he blurts out finally. “I swear it’s the truth!”
That grabs my attention. “Who?”
“I don’t know!” He starts sobbing like a toddler. “I was j-just stopping to take a piss, and then I saw the headlights light up again behind me. Someone was inside.”
I stare him down. “You left the keys in the ignition.” It’s not a question.
“I’m s-sorry,” he chokes. “I didn’t think—”
“No.” I whip out my gun. “You didn’t.”
Then I put a bullet between his eyes.
The chair topples backwards, hits the floor hard. The driver’s lifeless eyes keep staring ahead into nothingness.
Mikhael speaks up first. “This is what happens when you put a fucking idiot in charge,” he scoffs, loud enough just for me and Lev to hear. He spits on the driver’s dead body. “Another win for you, cuz. Guess you took ‘fucking around and finding out’ pretty goddamn literally, huh?”
“Careful,” I grit.
Instead of backing off, he takes a sniff at me. “Christ. You could have taken a shower before coming here. You reek of pussy, pakhan.”
My patience snaps.
Within seconds, I’ve got Mikhael against the wall, my gun digging in the hollow of his throat.
“Whoa,” he says. “Wait, c’mon! I was just—”
“Joking?” I press harder. The metal is still hot from the shot I fired—Mikhael can’t keep the grimace off his face. “Come on. Finish that joke. We’re all waiting for the punchline.”
Sweat beads at Mikhael’s temple. “You can’t,” he blurts. “I’m your cousin.”
“And Ivan isn’t here,” I growl. “So who’s gonna stop me?”
I watch Mikhael’s throat bob against my weapon. He glances around, but no one looks like they’re gonna lift a finger to help him. “I’m s-sorry,” he stammers. “I misspoke.”
“What was that?”
“I’m sorry!” he yells. His trembling voice echoes off the walls. “I’m sorry, pakhan.”
I let him go with a scoff. “Fuck off. Now.”
For once in his life, he obeys.
Mikhael. He’s younger than me, despite his father being older than mine. When Uncle Grigoriy was murdered by the Danilos, my father took him in. Raised him with us. Taught him to respect Dimitri as his next leader.
He never taught him to respect me, though.
Which means I’ll have to teach him that lesson myself.
I raise my voice. “That—” I point at the body on the floor.
“—is what happens when you cost me. And that,” I say again, pointing at the gunmouth mark burned into Mikhael’s throat, “is what happens when you disrespect me. Now, go find my fucking shipment, or the next one pissing himself in that chair will be one of you.”
No one says a word. Good.
“Dismissed.”
Everyone starts filing out. Only Lev remains behind.
When it’s just me and him, I slump against the wall. “Fucking Mikh.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Fucking Mikh.”
“That mudak is gonna make me put a bullet in his brain.”
“He sure is working hard for it.” Lev frowns. “Why was he sniffing you?” My glare silences him. “Never mind.”
Despite everything, I can’t chase Mikhael’s words out of my mind. He’s been accusing me for a while of being distracted, of not having the best interests of our Bratva at heart.
The day the shipment went missing, I was with Sima.
Tonight, I was with Sima.
Whether I like it or not, he has a fucking point.
I can’t keep letting Sima distract me from the finish line. Getting an heir is important, but if I knock her up right before my men rise up against me, what good is that gonna do for me?
Heirs are tomorrow’s game. This? Our missing shipment, securing the alliance with the Italians, fending off the Danilos? It’s today’s fucking game.
And I’m not losing it. Not for anything, not for anyone.
Certainly not for Nikolai Danilo’s goddamn daughter.