Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
JACE
I’m a happy man. My heart is full, balls are empty, and the scumbro saw exactly why.
I’m too in love, too satisfied to worry that minutes after we left him locked in the bunker, we were summoned by The Queen to meet in her office at the club.
Usually, it means we’re in trouble.
I grew up with a mother who’d warn, “Me and you are ’bout to have a come-to-Jesus meeting.”
And our punishment after the terrifying meeting?
We had to sit on the front porch, in front of our other brothers, and cross-stitch a “Jesus Loves You” pattern in pink. Years later, we had sewn so many, Grant had them made into a quilt for Mom.
Holding Vivian’s hand, I sit on one of the velvet sofas in my mom’s office and know I’m in trouble again.
It’s worth it.
Mom arches her brow at me. “I understand you have a captive in my bunker?”
“Yes, my Queen.”
Methodically, she taps a gold pen on her mahogany desk. “Care to tell me who?”
“It’s Vivian’s ex. We needed to interrogate him to make sure we’ve secured all the copies of that video. And we did, and now Viv has his phone, the final copy, so mission complete.”
I love Vivian too much not to give her that phone or to ever need to see the image that was stolen from her.
All that matters is she has her power back.
She tucked it into her camera bag and didn’t even check it. She just gave me a deep kiss with the taste of our love on her lips.
It’s all I need.
Mom keeps tapping her pen. “Care to tell me how that criminal got there when it wasn’t our men who picked him up?”
Nick and Zar sit on the sofa opposite us. Zar’s resting his shoes on the ottoman. He’s relaxed and smirking, amused to see me squirm, while Nick shakes his head at me.
“Dumb fucker, told you this would happen,” is written all over my little brother’s face.
Vivian raises her hand. Like my mom’s a teacher and this is middle school detention. Not the escaped wife of the Bratva Pakhan, schooling her sons on playing with the Mafia boss. “Ma’am, please don’t be mad at him. Jace did it for me; it’s my fault.”
“I know he did, dear.” Mom softens her tone toward Vivian. “And when it comes to my kings, I’ve raised them to take care of their queens. It’s not your fault.”
Mom narrows her sapphire eyes at me. “But when it comes to my sons and the devil who thinks he’s their father, I told them never to stir up shit unless they’re willing to lick the spoon.
” She slams her jeweled hand on her desk.
“What in the Sam Hill were you thinking, Jace Oliver Ryan, letting him help you on a mission?”
“It’s part of my plan.”
She points at me. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, son. I can smell it a mile away.”
“What is bullshitter?” Sasha asks, sitting in the amethyst velvet chair by the sofas.
Usually, our mother sits there for our meetings. But now, this feels right: The Queen, reigning behind her desk and her daughter, learning to fill her seat.
“A bull is a male cow,” Nick answers our sister. “And shit is what comes out of your ass and Jace’s mouth when he thinks our father will submit to us.”
Pensively, Sasha nods. She understands our family politics perfectly. It’s English that takes her a moment, but she’s catching on fast.
“That man doesn’t follow plans; he fills graves.” Mom leans back in her leather chair. “And I didn’t raise fools to believe otherwise.”
“Exactly,” I affirm, “and that’s my plan.
Ruslan thinks I’m working with him, when really I’m luring him into a meeting where he’ll agree to step down and let a new Pakhan lead.
He knows he’s dying, and now all he wants is to feel like his sons and daughter give a shit.
That’s my plan, to give him peace so we can have it. ”
I let go of Vivian’s hand to wrap my arm around her shoulder.
To hold on to my future and let go of my past. “You didn’t raise fools, Mom.
You raised seven sons to be better men than him, and we are.
We don’t hate; we avenge. Because soon, he’ll be dead, and we’ll be free of him without even firing a shot. ”
There’s no surrender in my mother’s regal eyes. Power is in her DNA. A true queen never lowers herself to a man’s level. She rises above it.
Our mom knows I’m right. She taught us that hatred is for the losers. Love goes to the victors.
And our victory is right here, a circle of loving kings and queens, almost complete.
“We have everything we need,” I continue respectfully. “We’ll have the honor of initiating our final queen. Then, we’ll have our last meeting with him, where we’ll stand as a united front—together. Not as his, but as yours.”
I want this for our mother, my father on his knees for her, but she’s not focused on herself.
With that news, she turns her tender focus to Vivian. “My dear, is this true? You’re ready to be his queen?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Vivian softly squeezes my hand. “And I want to do it soon. Jace has waited long enough.”
“And I’ll proudly vow to be her second king,” Nick proclaims. But Mom furrows her brows, never agreeing to anything coercive, so Nick clarifies. “Zar will initiate Vivian as my proxy.”
Zar’s quick to add, “With your permission, our Queen, of course.”
“What is proxy?”
Sasha’s so cute with her language questions. I introduced her to Vivian when we arrived, and they’re already thick as thieves.
Vivian smiles warmly at her. “Proxy means to act for someone. So Zar will act for Nick and um… initiate me.”
Sasha nods. “This is fuck, right?”
Nick snorts, and Mom interjects, “Please stop listening to your brothers. Their brains hang between their legs. An initiation is more than sex. It is sacred.”
“She means sacred sex,” Zar whispers conspiratorially to Sasha,
“You have a death wish,” Nick murmurs to his husband.
They make Sasha stifle her giggle. Vivian as well.
But I’m determined. “Please, our Queen, do you agree? Can Zar act as Nick’s proxy for Vivian’s initiation, and can we do it soon?”
“Next week,” Vivian blurts out before she turns to me, blushing. “Before Aunt Flo comes.”
Sasha’s brows fly up, excited for Vivian. “Your aunt is coming?”
Nick can’t resist. “Yes, her Aunt Flo is flying here on Red Wings Airlines.”
Nick makes me laugh, Zar too, while Mom is not amused, Vivian is pink faced, but Sasha is pissed, sensing a joke she can’t understand.
Jumping to her feet, she points at us. “I love my brothers, but joke me, and I jerk your dick!”
Vivian reaches over, softly grabbing Sasha’s hand. “No, don’t say, ‘Jerk your dick,’ not to your brothers. Say, ‘Punch your dick’ or better, ‘Shoot your dicks.’”
Sasha lifts her dainty chin. “I shoot dicks.”
“That’s my daughter.” Mom’s proud, and so am I.
Sasha has survived hell.
She reminds me of a Russian-cut rose. Like her, they bloom later and more vibrantly.
Prized for their resilience. Sasha is beautiful too.
With dark hair and aqua eyes like her twin, Loch, she doesn’t share his size.
Guess Loch stole it from her in the womb, but it’s obvious Sasha got most of the strength.
She needed it to survive Sheremetev.
And he’ll need it when she gets her revenge.
“‘Aunt Flo’ means I’m going to bleed.” And Vivian shows her all about grace. “To menstruate. To get my period.” She doesn’t want Sasha to feel foolish while learning a new language. “And ‘red wings’ means a woman is bleeding. It is all slang. Understand?”
Sasha nods, plopping down beside Vivian, while I notice Vivian suddenly flinch with a scared look in her eyes.
I open my mouth to ask her what’s wrong, but Nick takes control. “We’re sorry, Sasha. Women proudly bleed every month, and good men, like your brothers, respect it. And…”—he grins—“we love you, and are sorry we’re fucking idiots.”
“Agreed and settled.” Mom slaps her palm on the desk again. “I’ll make the calls. In one week, we complete the circle. We get our final queen and you…” She points her French manicured fingertip at me. “You need a ritual to be sure this is what your queen wants.”
Wants?
I know it’s what Vivian wants.
But why does she suddenly look so worried?