Chapter 26 Vaughn #2
That makes him grimace before he blows out a breath and finally flops down on the armrest of Gareth’s chair.
“Any updates about that?” Jeremy asks me. “Dad says the general consensus is that an Italian faction from Seattle did it, but is it true?”
“Not sure. Anyone who attacks such a large Bratva gathering is an idiot, but then again, some smaller groups can only survive by going big. All the other branches are looking into it, so something is bound to come out of that.”
“Don’t you get bored keeping up with all of that?” Killian asks.
I lift a shoulder. “It’s what I’m born to do.”
“You can also choose to live your life like Jeremy and Niko,” Kill says. “Your dad is still young, and it’ll be decades before you take over, so might as well enjoy yourself a little.”
“He’s right.” Jeremy nudges my shoulder. “You’ve always been responsible to a fault. It’s okay to take a step back and have fun, especially after the whole thing with Danika.”
“Yeah, the whole thing with Danika,” Gareth says, sounding sympathetic. “I bet you’re still thinking about her.”
“Am not,” I say.
“Oh?” the prick says.
“It’s good you’ve come over outside the initiation.” Jeremy slams me on the shoulder. “It feels like we don’t see you that much.”
“I don’t think he’s here for us, though.” Gareth releases a sigh, and I glare at him.
He just laughs. The asshole.
“Question.” Niko jumps up. “How about we disguise ourselves, and the Serpents don’t know it’s us? Genius, right?”
“There’s no way we can disguise you, Niko,” Jeremy says.
“Listen, motherfucker—” Niko trips and falls near the coffee table, narrowly avoiding hitting his head.
I pull my leg back discreetly as he yells and bitches.
Childish, maybe.
But I don’t like that he beat Yulian up, especially that punch that knocked him down. He had to shake his head to get back on his feet.
Since I have a broad idea of the type of abuse Yulian has endured at his father’s hands, I don’t like anyone hitting him—Nikolai included.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out faster than I’ve ever done anything in my life.
I knew Yulian wouldn’t ghost me. The other times he attempted that, sulking and acting like a drama king, lasted an hour max.
Besides, it’s not really that I don’t want to go to the house. I want to touch him so badly, I’ve been having withdrawals.
But that’s exactly why I want to put some distance between us, train my brain to stop acting on instinct when he’s around and teach him—and myself—some impulse control, because fucking hell, he can be so reckless.
Y
You don’t get here in thirty minutes, I’m fucking him on your bed.
He sends a photo.
The picture shows Kevin on his knees, sucking on Yulian’s thumb. It’s a little blurred, but I’d know that hand anywhere—the veins, the tiny wing inked above the fang at the slope of his thumb, curling into the inside of his wrist. I kissed and held and touched that hand more times than I can count.
And now that fucking hand is on someone else.
My spine jerks upright as I type.
Me
You do that, and it’s over, Yulian.
Fine by me. Better that than playing your push-and-pull games. Goodbye, Vaughn.
Goodbye? You’re not the one saying goodbye, I am. You think you have any control over this relationship?
Apparently not. I can still end it, though.
My jaw tightens. Is he seriously ending it? He thinks he can end it?
Or threaten me?
Or make me do something I don’t want to?
Fuck Yulian Dimitriev. No one dictates my actions.
Twenty minutes later, I nearly slam my car into the wall of the house.
The purchase itself didn’t take long, but finding the right place took work.
I practically made the realtor strong-arm a couple into giving up their dream beach house on a hill—secluded, overlooking the sea, far from anyone else.
A discreet private gate, a long driveway, and a recent renovation in a clean, neoclassical style.
In short—exactly what I needed.
At first, it was the location that caught my eye.
I spotted it on Google Earth, ran drone footage around the property to assess security risks, then dug into a background search to find out exactly who I’d be dealing with.
The final step was hiring a realtor to push the sale—I couldn’t risk handling it myself and exposing my anonymity.
The elderly couple resisted, of course. That changed when I offered them a mansion in Kent, close to their children and grandchildren. They’d still have their seaside dream. But this one is mine.
That’s what I do. If I want something, I make it happen, by whatever means necessary.
And I accomplished all of that while overseas through representatives. Although the process took a bit longer than I’d like. Several weeks, to be exact.
I did all of this just so I’d have a discreet, secure place to meet the motherfucker who dared to end it.
Not sure what it is. Sex? Obsession? Whatever it is, he has no right to.
I shove the car door shut and step out into the storm. Rain pours down from a sky smothered in black, the night raging as waves slam against the cliff beneath the house, their roar nearly drowning out the downpour.
My shirt clings damp to my skin as I pull the key with the bullet key chain from my pocket—the same key I sent him yesterday, so he’d have it in time for the weekend.
The thought that he actually brought Kevin here nearly snaps my muscles as my vision turns red.
How dare he?
How fucking dare he?
A frown bunches my brows when I spot the bike parked on the side of the driveway, soaking with rain.
Don’t tell me the motherfucker had Kevin glued to him on that bike…?
My vision is entirely black as I unlock the door and step in.
Rain taps against the floor-to-ceiling windows, steady and unrelenting, the only sound against the weight of silence in the house.
I move through the entryway, my steps muffled by limestone tile, the soft glow of recessed lighting tracing clean lines along archways and wall paneling.
Everything smells faintly of the woods and sea surrounding the place.
The house is sharp, elegant, has symmetrical lines, and is decorated with dark walnut and marble.
My feet come to a halt.
Yulian stands halfway up the staircase, one hand locked around the banister, the other buried in the pocket of a battered leather jacket. His hair hangs damp in uneven strands across his forehead, his face mottled with mauve bruises from earlier. And still, the bastard grins widely when he sees me.
“Nice place,” he says, his voice thick with amusement.
I take the stairs two at a time, shoving past him and toward the bedroom, expecting to find a certain motherfucking Kevin lying in bed.
The main bedroom is empty, the sheets clean and untouched. I search the bathroom and the second room, then go back to the main bedroom, but there’s no blond-haired flirt I clearly threatened to kill the next time I see him touching Yulian.
Maybe he took that threat seriously and hid—
A chin drops on my shoulder from behind, and I swallow when Yulian’s head-turning scent bathes me in an extremely weird sensation.
Yes, it’s desire, but there’s something else in there.
Anger. Let’s call it anger, because I’d rather it be that than something else.
I’d actually prefer to do the more sensible thing of bashing my head against a wall until I bleed out, instead of facing what that something else is.
“What are we looking for?” The rough edge of his husky voice makes my mouth water.
Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Kevin,” I say coolly, at least sounding angry and not at all plagued by the feel of him against me.
“Do you want to see Kevin?”
I turn around, forcing him to release me, to put some distance between us since his touch obviously muddies my head, but then he smiles.
And I hate how he’s so fucking blasé about everything. How he has none of the fire that’s consuming me alive on the regular since he came back into my life.
My hand wraps around his throat and I back him up until he topples and falls on the bed and I’m on top of him, my legs straddling his waist. “You think you can bring some fucktoy to my place while ending it with me in the same breath, Yulian? You think you can do what you want? Hmm?”
He grunts and shoves at my chest, wrestling me so that he’s hovering on top of me. “You don’t get that privilege either. I’m not your toy.”
I kick him and shove him down, grabbing his hair. “You’re whatever the fuck I want you to be, Volchonok.”
“Fuck you.”
“We’ll get to that in a bit. But first, where’s Kevin?”
“There’s no Kevin.”
“You sent me the picture, asshole.”
“Old one. Had to go back into the chat to get it.” He flips us around while I’m momentarily stunned.
I’m staring up at him now as he wraps his hand around my throat. “Figured the only way to get you to come was by playing on your nonsensical possessiveness, but didn’t want to risk bringing the actual person, in case you’d kill him.”
Smart. He’s right, I probably would’ve committed serious bodily harm to Kevin if I saw him here.
“Block him,” I say instead.
“What?”
“Block Kevin. Don’t have any chat history with him.”
His laugh is low, edged with something unhinged. “You throw a fit over me asking you to show up, and now you want me to block Kevin? What’s next? Block everyone I know?”
“Preferably.”
“Would you do that if I asked?”
“I don’t have fuck buddies, Yulian.”
“Except for me.” His nostrils flare, and I’m shamelessly staring at his lips. Fuck. I think I missed kissing him.
He leans down, his nose touching mine, his lips hovering so close, I can almost taste them on my tongue.
“Say it, baby,” he whispers.
“Say what?” I lick my lip, hoping to close the distance.
“That I’m the only one you’ll ever have.”
“Get over yourself.” I’m nearly moaning the words because he’s breathing against me, my lips tingling at the rush of air, but he’s not kissing me yet.
“In that case…” Yulian licks my lip, then pulls away, but I grab him by the back of the neck.
“I fucking hate you,” I growl, then crash his lips to mine.
Operation Putting A Distance—an epic fail.