Deviant Legacy (The Notorious Legacy #2)

Chapter 1

ONE

ONE YEAR AGO

T he first time my eyes landed on Milo Kyrovsky, I knew I was done for. Not even the shadows of the docks could disguise his beauty. His alluring deep blue eyes reminded me of the ocean; his dark blonde hair was styled effortlessly. And as for his wicked smile… just looking at his lips made my dick ache, and I instantly hated the visceral reaction he evoked within me when he spoke; the way his mouth curled at the corners like he could hear every filthy thought swirling around in my mind.

It wouldn’t surprise me if he actually could. The level of cockiness he exudes is rooted in his power. He’s hot—too good-looking to ignore—but it's not just his devastating good looks that put me in a tailspin. It's our connection. The indescribable pull I felt the first time we spoke was biblical, all-encompassing, and ever since… unavoidable .

I’ve never reacted to someone this way. Ever .

I’ve fucked around enough in my life to recognize that this is different. Nobody has ever captivated me quite as much as Milo Kyrovsky did with a single glance.

I’ve known for a long time that my attraction to men was probably going to be a problem somewhere down the line. Being gay in a male-dominated world like ours is wrapped in stigma. I once worried how my father would react to my sexual orientation, but it was needless. That’s the thing about Axel Bonanno— he’s a fucking rock on the outside, an impenetrable surface you don’t want to mess with, but the love he holds for his family is unwavering. He smiled back at me when I came out to him, as if he knew all along. His acceptance doesn’t extend to everyone in the business of organized crime, though. My sexual preference shouldn’t be anyone’s concern but my own, yet in my world, it means I have more to prove. I have to be tougher. Meaner. Never show weakness.

That’s what this attraction to Milo Kyrovsky is— a weakness. One I need to eradicate immediately.

He’s my enemy. It would be an act of betrayal against the five families if I even considered getting into bed with a member of the Bratva, let alone their second-in-command. I know this, but my dick hasn’t gotten the memo.

My unwavering ability to keep a handle on my irrational emotions is something that has always been ingrained in me. I pride myself on my self-control, my ability to do my job, to lead with my head and not my dick. Unfortunately, that self-control evaporates when I’m in his presence.

“Never pegged you for a babysitter,” Milo drawls in that low, velvety voice that sets my teeth on edge.

Don't you dare step any closer.

Of course he does, coming up beside me as I stoically watch the Russian soldiers empty the contents of their shipping container. The smugness in his tone isn’t lost on me, but I know better than to give him a reaction.

“You can’t ignore me forever.” His words are silky, trickling down my body until I have to resist the urge to adjust myself. This is what he does to me. He has this subtle accent that makes me crave the sound of his voice, and the way he goads me drives me insane. I thrive off our push and pull, even though I know I’m going to regret it the moment we part. The guilt is my punishment for wanting someone I shouldn’t.

It’s been this way for a year now, since I became more involved with the family business. For over thirty years, my father and uncles have run New York City. Aptly named The Notorious Five, they’ve created an empire that’s beaten rivals time and time again. Enemies have come and gone; they’ve built businesses, alliances, and even expanded to the West Coast. I’m about to add to that legacy with my two best friends, and there’s no way I’m fucking it up.

My friend Haldon has already taken over his dad’s role, managing Gambino Enterprises and funding all the illegal substances this side of the states. Clubs and drugs are his game, and he’s great at it. Aside from alcohol, the guy doesn’t touch anything else— which seems strange considering his business, but it keeps his head clear and in the game. Far be it for me to question his morals. He has the business smarts for our line of work, and he’s never been wrong when it comes to making decisions.

My other friend, Roman Genovese, is currently expanding The Five’s territory to the West Coast with his father. They run drugs and gambling dens over in L.A., and it’s safe to say they’re raking in profits we never thought we’d see.

As for me, I’m ready for my father’s retirement. The Bonannos run the docks and arms dealing, and I’ve been handling the enforcement side of our business for the better part of a year. That’s how I met Milo. Dealing with the Bratva means I have monthly meetings with Kyrovsky, which, in theory, should make things easier for me.

It doesn’t.

I light up a cigarette—a bad habit I picked up from my dad—and exhale into the night air. “Fuck off, Kyrovsky,” I mutter.

The cold air ripples around us, my own body fighting off the chill. I’ve never liked the Russians. Their arrogance precedes them, and the more involved I get with them, the more I’m pushed to my limits— especially with Milo.

I have no choice but to endure it. The Federovs have a legacy arrangement with The Five; they use our docks, and in exchange, Haldon gets a free supply of top-shelf liquor to serve in his nightclubs. They don’t have complete free rein of what they bring into the docks, but I can tell that’s what they really want. Nobody enjoys being ruled by someone outside of their own organization.

That’s why I’m here; to ensure they don’t try anything. The Russians aren’t exactly known for sticking to their word, and I wouldn’t put it past them to overstep their boundaries.

Heat envelops me as Milo leans in close. We’re too far away for his men to hear us, but apparently he’s just as cautious as I am about our interactions.

“Wouldn’t you love to, though?” His voice is low, taunting me.

I grind my molars, fists clenching as I stare straight ahead. I could easily put a bullet between this asshole’s eyes and not blink, but I know that would cause a war with the Russians. There’s too much at stake to allow my emotions to get the better of me. Take a deep breath.

One.

Two.

Three.

“Trying to decide whether to admit it or not?” he chuckles. “And I thought the Russians were oppressed...”

I snap my head towards him, pinning him with a menacing glare. “The Russians are only good for one thing, Kyrovsky, and fucking isn’t it.”

Milo barks a laugh that sends ripples of excitement through my veins. The way his face contorts into a deviant gaze has my throat tightening. “Then you’ve never fucked a Russian,” he retorts, like he knows too well what that’s like.

And I’m sure he does. A guy like him must get anyone he wants, especially with his level of confidence.

“Can’t say I have,” I admit under my breath as he snatches the cigarette from between my lips and closes his own around the filter.

“Then maybe you should,” he winks.

My eyes dart to his mouth, watching him suck on the filter, the cherry glowing and casting shadows across his sharp features. Fuck . I can’t stop staring at his lips, I can’t help but imagine them wrapped around my…

The slam of the container doors startles me back to reality. I jolt back slightly, but Milo’s gaze is still fixed on me, like he’s waiting for some smart remark. He continues burning the cherry until it’s nothing more than ash before dropping it to the ground.

“We’re ready,” one of his soldiers announces behind me, earning a nod of acknowledgment from Milo.

“You go ahead. Bonanno and I have a few things to tie up.” His eyes are alight with something dark and dangerous, an unhinged look in them that intrigues the shadowy parts of me. He steps closer, his lips curling into his signature sexy smirk.

“The only thing getting tied up is you if you?—”

The car engines start up behind us, drowning out my words and forcing the tension in the air to thicken the moment we're alone. I swallow back whatever this feeling is lodged in my throat.

It’s not nerves. It can’t be. I don’t get nervous, especially around guys like Milo. I’m comfortable enough in my own skin to recognize attraction, but when his breath skates past my lips, I have to fight the urge to lean in and lick them.

“What do you need, Milo?” I huff irritably. “I have other places to be.”

He tilts his head in thought, rubbing a finger over his lips as he stares at mine. The gold rings adorning his fingers glimmer in the moonlight with the action, snapping my focus to them. “I don’t need anything.”

Impatience grates at my nerves, the only salvation for my brain short-circuiting. “Stop wasting my time, Kyrovsky.”

I go to turn away, but his hand reaches out for mine, giving me pause as I dart him a hard look.

“What’s the rush?” he smirks. His deep blue eyes tour my body with unmistakable appreciation, setting every inch of my skin ablaze under the intensity of his stare. My blood boils, and I suddenly feel like a volcano about to erupt.

Lunging forward, I wrap my hand around his throat, slamming his back against the container and pinning him with my body. I try to ignore the heat that crawls up my spine from the contact, the proximity of his body, the hypnotizing scent of his aftershave; it’s dizzying. “Stop. Playing. Fucking. Games.”

“Ah, come on,” he tuts. “You can do better than that.”

His taunt has my fingers flexing around the column of his neck, and I know I’ve caught his windpipe by the raspy sound that laces each of his breaths.

His lips widen in a maniacal grin, like he’s actually enjoying this exchange. I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t deriving some twisted satisfaction of my own from touching him, but I’d never tell him that. Instead, I let up slightly, just enough to hear him goad me further.

“If you keep looking at me like that, Alvaro , I might think you want to fuck me.”

That’s it.

I shove away from my enemy, attempting to ignore how my body responds to the loss of contact. My irritation was already at an eight out of ten when I got here, but Milo is deliberately trying to piss me off, ratcheting it up those last two notches.

“We’re done here,” I snarl.

“Are we?” he sniggers back suggestively, moving towards me once more. I recognize the accusation in his tone, and his quirked brow only adds to the flirtation as his hot breath skates over my cheek. “I think we’re just getting started, Bonanno.”

I resist the urge to bite back at his words. The way he says my name brings out the most feral of my desires, but I can't ever forget: he’s still the enemy.

“Kyrovsky.” His lips are so close to mine. One wrong move and this would become more than a conversation… which can't ever happen. I draw a deep breath, reminding myself of that fact as I take a reluctant step backwards. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

Deviance glimmers in his eyes as they flicker over my body, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Can’t make any promises.”