Chapter 42
Mikhail
My evenings with Cassandra were the only tranquility I had.
Each day was filled with tedious searching and dead ends, as we hunted high and low for the rat scuttling around unnoticed through our own organization. The attack on the Empire might not have reaped any casualties, but the escalation of the bombing was a message, clear as day.
We were at war.
Each day, my team and I composed a new list of suspects.
And each afternoon, we’d work through their backgrounds and alibis, reluctantly clearing each one.
Whoever Cassio had working for him was well-hidden within my ranks, but I would find him.
And once I did, his death would serve as a powerful message of strength to those who wish to rally against us.
The endless search was also taking its toll on my Bratva; the seeds of distrust, already planted from my transition into power, have continued to grow in dangerous ways.
Now was not the time to be dealing with small, internal disputes of insubordination.
That was yet another thing we couldn’t afford.
I loathed leaving for work each morning, sneaking away while Cass still slept, her dark curls forming a soft halo over the pillow.
She was busy too, though. She was in the final weeks of her degree, and spent the long hours of the day slumped over her computer and notebooks full of scribbles, ferociously typing away as she completed various assignments.
Watching her single-minded determination was fascinating.
Her delicate brows pinch down in piercing concentration as she works, puzzling out complicated budgetary concerns and economic issues in her brain, the likes of which I would never understand in a million years.
I might own businesses, but there’s a reason I outsource such tasks to top-dollar professionals.
That shit is complicated, and witnessing her work through it in her mind is beyond captivating.
She’s been staying with me since the incident at her apartment two weeks ago, and the time together has provided me with a grounding realization: I never want to live apart from her again.
Meals, sex, conversations, casual touches.
With her, it’s all different, and I never want to see a day without it. Without her.
I set down the payroll documents I was inspecting, settling back into the curve of my chair. Ilya perches in his own chair beside mine, with the computer balanced on one thigh. “Find anything, Boss?”
I blow out a hot breath. “No.”
I was hoping that I could find some link, comparing my father’s old payroll slips and my current ones, but all I’ve learned is how messy the old bastard’s finances were.
He was backing everyone from prostitutes to sleazy street dealers, making it impossible to find one trail of consistency in the mess.
I have, however, learned more about his feud with Cassio’s Mafia, which appears to have started when dear old dad pilfered a large drug shipment from their trade routes in an effort to expand into the drug trafficking game.
I suppose Cassio now thinks stealing from our artillery shipments provides some poetic justice.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like he’s stopping there.
I know I should stay late tonight.
Continue going through the endless spiral of history, documents, financial records…
but I’ve already been away from my Menace for so many hours, and everything in me longs to return to her side, her magnetic attraction drawing me back to her orbit.
I stopped at the care facility earlier, providing a much-awaited update on Cassandra to my mother, before collecting exactly what I needed to surprise my girl.
I stand from my desk, smoothing down the wrinkles in my slacks and slipping my weapon back into its holster. Ilya glances at me knowingly.
“I’m going to take the rest of the night off. Call me if you find anything.”
“Tell Cassandra I said hello.”
The asshole’s still smiling at me with that shit-eating grin as I turn and stroll toward the door.
A spiced combination of onions and meat wafts through the entire apartment by the time Cass finally emerges from the room she’s been studying in.
The scent brings me back to a very different time.
A time when Nikolai’s laugh flooded the kitchen as we took turns chasing, Mother berating us to settle down from the stove.
She only ever cooked for us when Father was away, so naturally, Stroganoff was more of a victory than a meal.
A temporary fantasy, addled away by the violent reality of our true life.
All of this hits me in unexpected waves as I dice and stir, reconstructing her dish from all those years ago. A sharp pang of grief reverberates through my chest at the thought of my brother, but it’s somewhat soothed by the handwritten recipe that crinkles in my hand.
“What is that amazing smell?” Cassandra walks over to the kitchen counter before sliding onto a bar stool, a look of shock plastered on her face.
“Stroganoff. My mother’s recipe—though I don’t think it will turn out as good as hers.” I flash her a smile, enjoying the way her features melt into pure amazement.
“I didn’t know you cooked?”
“Cooking is just following instructions, baby. And as you might recall, I am excellent at following instructions.”
I give the pot one final stir before dipping my spoon to collect some of the creamy mixture. After allowing it to cool, I offer her the spoon. She moans as she wraps her lips around the metal, eyes shooting to mine.
“Fuck me, that’s good.” Her tongue swipes out to lick her lips clean, and the action causes a zing of attraction to travel down my spine.
“I’m glad you like it, Menace.” My voice is a hoarse whisper, desperate to recover from the blood racing somewhere it shouldn’t.
I plate the dish and pour Cass a glass of wine. Pull your mind from the gutter and let her enjoy her meal in peace.
It still amazes me how easily we slip into this domesticated bliss with one another.
I relax into the cushions, devouring the small sounds of appreciation she makes between bites as she tells me about her day.
It’s a damn good thing that she’s on birth control, because I can’t seem to keep my hands off her.
Then again, the thought of her having my baby sends a wave of desire and satisfaction through me.
Unaware of my filthy thoughts, her eyes crinkle up as she tells me about the paper she’s working on, and goddamn, I can barely follow along.
Partially because she’s incredibly intelligent, but mainly because sitting here on my couch, eating my cooking, and explaining some financial theory that has her eyes lighting up like stars in a deep, grey sky, she’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” She asks, setting her empty plate aside and turning toward me.
“Because you are fucking breathtaking.” I breathe out.
Her head tilts a fraction, a globe shifting on its axis. Her easy smile drops from her face seconds before she crawls over and swings a leg over my thigh, settling into my lap. A favorite position of hers, I’m learning.
My palms wrap her waist, dwarfing the circumference in my grasp. I love having her here, pressed into my arms and wrapped around me.
“You have to stop saying shit like that, baby.”
The endearment radiates warmth through my heart as her hands lift to frame my jaw. Her soft breaths blow against my cheeks, and I nuzzle into her hold, breathing in her smell. Musk, vanilla, and spice.
“Why’s that, Menace?”
“Because it’s making me lose my mind.” Her lips crash to mine with a sharp inhale. I groan, matching her kisses with increasing fervor, sucking and licking and biting until our collision is all teeth and breath and touch.
My hands reach for her ass, trying to rock her against me, get her as close as I possibly can, but it seems Cass has other plans. My wrists are grasped tightly and pulled up, a devilish smirk working its way across her features.
“Nah-uh. This is for me,” she says, laying each of my arms against the back of the couch.
I follow her lead, enraptured by the confidence gleaming in her eyes.
Then she rolls against me, and every fucking muscle in my body goes taut, my cock hardening against her in record speed.
“Move these, and everything stops.” She grips my hands before pushing them against the back of the couch. Fuck.
Her smirk only grows as she reads the delicious anguish riding across my face. Her hands trail a grueling pace across my arms, down my chest. A kiss brushes against my neck as she rolls against me again, and the little moan she makes has me nearly coming in my pants.
She’s fucking unreal.
But then her hands slide lower, down my chest, trailing down my abs to grip onto the metal buckle of my belt.
I don’t dare move a damn muscle, not as she slides off my lap and settles on the floor.
My fingers indent into the fabric of the sofa.
Her eyes peer up at me with desperate desire as she works my belt loose.
Drags down my zipper. Frees me from my pants.
“Fuck, baby.”
“Stay still.” She smirks up at me, wrapping her hand around my hot cock. I hiss, head falling back to the couch in overwhelming need.
“Eyes on me.”
And fuck, I have no fucking choice but to obey as she does an experimental pump that I feel all the way up my spine, her tongue drifting out to lick the cum already seeping from my tip.
I have to tense every muscle in my arms to keep them from seeking her out, holding her against me.
And then she’s swallowing me down her throat, sucking me in with her hands clenched around my base.
All I see are stars. Zips of electricity shoot from my body, and I groan her name, low and guttural.
Her eyes find mine, and the hunger lacing them fucking undoes me.
“Can I touch you now, baby?” My voice comes out an octave lower than usual, my hips desperately jutting up. “I need to be inside you.”
No faster is she nodding than I’m ripping my arms from their metaphysical chains, heaving her body back onto me. We both groan out as I line myself up, sinking myself into her in agonizing relief.