Chapter Six
Becca
I lay down two cards and Max deals me two replacements, and I bet one hundred dollars.
He calls, Art calls, and Rurik raises another hundred. His cheek ticks slightly, giving his bluff away.
“I call.”
Max groans and folds and Artie follows, a smart move.
“What do you have RuRu?”
He ignores his new nickname and lays down a pair of kings.
I plop down my three of a kind and rake in my winnings.
“I need another shot to ease my pain.”
I refill our shot glasses with Zoyalov’s new citrus flavored vodka. We all tap our glasses twice against the table before shooting the liquor back.
Art shuffles the deck and deals out the cards. I slur happily, “Artie and RuRu! My new best friends!”
Art snorts, “Your latest targets.”
I prop my leg on the chair and smirk. If Niko walked in right now I would be in so much trouble. I’m wearing another pair of cotton shorts and a cropped camisole. Not because I want to entice anyone but because it’s comfortable. Besides, when Niko tells me not to do something, I’m literally going to do it. I'm not the kind of girl who has drawers of pjs and nighties. I like my shorts and tank tops, and I don't see what the problem is.
I have nothing to worry about. These men are more like my uncles. Some, like Max, worked for Boris, but after Andrei killed his father, many, including Max, Art and Rurik, happily fell in line to serve Andrei.
I grin at my pile of money. This isn’t the first time I’ve played poker with them and I’ve long figured out their tells. Rurik’s cheek ticks when he’s bluffing, and he wipes his left palm on his jeans when he has a hot hand. Artie sniffs when he’s bluffing, and when he’s holding a winning hand he furrows his eyebrows, wanting his opponents to think the opposite.
Thankfully, Uncle Max is a worthy opponent, otherwise I’d be bored out of my mind. Rich but bored.
Max bets and Rurik calls. My hand is shit so I immediately fold and sip my vodka as Max takes Rurik’s money. They talk smack to each other in Russian and I laugh, but my mind is elsewhere.
Niko.
The dirty words he said to me have been on repeat in my head non-stop, and each time I think about it I grow wetter.
When I joked that he was suddenly interested in me, he looked at me like I had two heads. I’m usually good at reading people and up until today, Niko hasn’t shown any sign of interest. He’s an overprotective brut who thinks I’m a dimwit with no passions other than shopping, drinking and dancing. He always looks at mewith indignation.
I still hope he’s safe tonight. They all think they’re bulletproof, but anything can happen. Even an idiot with a shit shot can hit a target once.
I managed to ignore him after our incident, and I lost myself in my painting. Deep down I’m touched he had Tali bring my art supplies, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to thank him.
After Max and friends showed up, he left, satisfied that I wouldn’t escape tonight. I showered and ate, and then I wandered around the house until I found the basement. There’s a theatre room, and a bar with a pool table, but the poker table is what caught my attention.
My phone buzzes with a text from Kira. It’s a picture of her and Trish with two random guys, and they’re taking shots while strobe lights flash behind them.
Her text says look what you’re missing. Where are you?
I had family obligations.
Dinner should be over by now.
I didn’t go.
Where are you?
Not with you.
Funny. Come out!
Next time.
You owe me bottle service for ditching us!
Done.
Let’s meet for lunch tomorrow. At R.L. We can sit on the patio and let all the peons see our beautiful faces. I’ll pick you up.
Can’t. The new tasting room is priority.
Fuck priorities!
LOL
Seriously, where are you? Got a hot date?
You know I don’t.
Trisha just said you have a date with a vibrator.
Don’t tell anyone, ha-ha.
I stopped by to borrow your pink dress, but no answer.
Shit, I forgot.
Lucky for you I used the excuse to go shopping.
Nice.
I called the distillery. They said you were MIA all day. Priorities, huh?
I had work errands all day. I’ll call you tomorrow. Go, enjoy your night.
I should be jealous but the FOMO doesn’t set in. I’ve known Kira and Trish since college, and I consider them friends, but I still keep them at arm’s length. I would never tell them my darkest secrets. Although, they know more than I’d like. Not by choice.
I’m actually surprised Kira wants to even see me tonight.
In college, Trish and I had some business classes together and were in the same study group. We became pretty friendly and one day she insisted I meet her best friend, Kira, because she was also Russian. Since then, we’ve partied a lot together. They know who my family is, but I try to downplay it. Kira Lebedev on the other hand loves attention. Kira’s father was a Senator of the Russian Federation Council, until he retired and they moved to the States. Because of his political background she has a small security detail. She often jokes how odd it is that I, the Sokolov Princess, walk around free of bodyguards while she has her own entourage.
I do have a security detail, and Sergei and Andrei are sly about it, but I’m no idiot. They didn’t balk when I wanted to move out and go to college, but I was never under the illusion they weren’t going to protect me. I say smother, they say protect.
Kira loves the attention when we hit the clubs, but I have an alias and fake I.D. to accompany it. We all know I’m way past the legal drinking age, but the fake identity makes life easier. The bouncers know who I am, but we have an unspoken agreement. If you know me you know me. If not, all the better. For both of us.
Kira sends another picture and I shake my head. She looks like she’s having the time of her life. I’ll never admit it to Niko but I’m happy with staying in. Honestly, I’m more comfortable here- drunk, playing poker with beefed up, scary Russian men.
A day in the life of a Russian Bratva princess.
At least I have the distillery, and I'm proud of the success it is today. I love going to work every day, but lately, I dream of coming home to a husband, maybe a couple of kids. I want what Summer and Tali have. What Sergei and Andrei have. Someone I can fully trust, someone who knows and accepts the real me.
I don’t want the fairytale Niko thinks I’m looking for. I want a partner. I want someone who admires my independence but will hunt down anyone who harms me. I don’t want perfection. I want someone who’s just as flawed as me, but when we bring our broken pieces together, we become whole. I want a lover who can be vulnerable with his feelings but who will dominate me in the bedroom. Yes, dominate. But I won’t dare divulge that to Niko.
He’s going to be so pissed when he returns. His men away from their posts, drunk and playing poker with me. Good. I’m not afraid of him and his empty threats. What’s he going to do? Spank me?
My thighs clench. Fuck, is that what I want?
We’ve always known our roles, but now, I don’t know what he’s thinking.
When my father moved us here, I was immediately thrusted into a big Russian family. Andrei was busy running an empire, so I became Sergei’s shadow, following him everywhere. I grew up with him, wrestling and playing football with his friends, getting in mud fights, arm wrestling, fishing. Yes, I had Anya, but she was just as bad as me, our mother’s called us the tomboy twins. At school, the other girls teased us because we didn’t want to play with dolls or dress up. Most times, the teasing led to fist fights, and our fathers’ were called to the school but nothing ever came of it. One of the few times my last name worked in my favor.
I pour another shot for all of us and enjoy the citrus flavor hitting my tongue. It’s good. Really good. Probably another award winning batch. I need to get to the distillery. There’s so much to do, and I know Anya is annoyed with all of my texts. She’s not only my best friend but the Manager of the distillery, and I trusted her when she assured me everything was in good shape. The bomb, if you can even call it that, only tore the shed’s door down and busted a window. It happened before any employees showed up, and when Anya discovered the flowers and the damaged shed, she immediately called Alek who took care of everything, including calling Sergei. The other employees don’t have a clue about the threats, flowers, or so-called bomb.
Once we catch the fucker, and they will, I’ll be home and back to my life, away from him.
But, I’ll be away from him.
I lay down a straight and Max rolls his eyes. “I should’ve never taught you and Anya poker.”
The mention of my best friend’s name tightens my chest. “I’m so sorry Anya was at the distillery when that bomb went off.”
“It’s not your fault, sweet girl. And the way she describes it, it wasn’t more than a dinky firecracker. I swear that girl loves danger.”
I laugh, “It does have a way of finding her.”
“It? You mean Alek and Isaak. I swear I’ll kill them.”
His phone vibrates with an incoming message. “Shit, the guys at the gate texted, Niko is home.”
We barely have time to comprehend before he barges in. Fuck, he looks so hot, still in his fatigues. He must’ve trimmed his beard before he left tonight. Did he have plans with a woman before his killing spree? Or does he like a victory fuck after?
I notice blood on his T-shirt and I immediately jump up and rush to him without even thinking. “Are you hurt?” I lift his shirt, relieved the blood isn’t his.
He keeps his dark eyes on me. It’s obvious he’s trying to restrain himself, his angry words directed at Max, “Get out!”
All three men quickly exit the room, leaving me with the beast.
He stares at my hand against his eight-pack, and the heat of his muscles ignites my own. His scowl hints at a smirk. “Were you worried about me, Printsessa ?”
I drop my arms and scoff, “Excuse me for not wanting you to bleed out.”
“Is that all? Didn’t want me to stain the carpet?”
“Whatever.” I huff.
He eyes my winnings. “Poker? Really?”
“Yes, really. I was kicking their asses.”
“Their job is to protect you, not entertain you.”
I roll my eyes, “They can multi-task. I was bored.”
“Missing the limelight?”
“No.”
He lifts up the almost empty vodka bottle. “Not missing the alcohol I see.”
“I’m Russian, what do you expect me to do? Drink beer?”
“You don’t have to drink at all.”
“Said no Sokolov ever.” I take my hoodie off, all of a sudden over-heated from his presence.
His dark, dangerous eyes scan my body. “What the fuck, Becca?”
“Is there a problem?”
“So many.” His angry words are laced with disappointment. “Can’t you go one night without looking for attention?”
My chest stings from his words, but I fight the tears, focusing on the one emotion I can handle, anger.
“How dare you!” I raise my hand to slap him and he catches my wrist, but it doesn’t stop me from yelling at him. “For your information, I like to be comfortable when I’m at home.”
“This isn’t your home.”
I can’t explain the twinge in my chest. “That’s your fault. And it’s Max, Art and Ru. They’ve known me forever. I’m best friends with Max’s daughter!”
“I don’t care. No more fraternizing.”
I snort, “Right, right. No fun allowed.”
“If you want to stay safe.”
I cross my arms and narrow my eyes at him, “Their job is to protect me from the big bad boogie man, but here’s a question for you.”
“What?”
“Who’s protecting me from you?”
He rips me into his chest and wraps his hand around my throat. “Are you scared of me?”
I can feel his hard cock against my thigh, I try to wrestle out of his hold but for such a large guy, he’s quick. Before I can comprehend, he’s sweeping the table clean. Poker chips, money, cards, shot glasses, are strewn across the room. I land on my back in the center of the table, he spreads my legs to stand between them, his palms slap against my thighs, keeping me where he wants me. The heat of his touch burns all the way to my soul.
He sneers, “You think I’m dangerous?”
I don’t bother answering because he knows the answer.
One of his hands gently runs over my ankle, along my calf, under the crease of my knee, and slowly up my thigh until his fingers find the hem of my shorts.
His deep voice quickens my pulse and awakens my desire. “What is it with you and flimsy shorts. Fuck, they barely cover your perfect, round ass.”
His hand slips under the thin fabric. “No fucking panties? You’re killing me.”
My brain is muddled and I’m suddenly mute, all retorts evaporate. My breathing becomes erratic as he continues to explore my ass, creeping close to my forbidden hole and the trail of flesh that will lead him to the pool of wetness he’s creating.
He leans in and I silently beg him to kiss me. We’ve never kissed. He’s licked my pussy, but his lips have never touched my mouth and I desperately need to know what kissing Niko Petrova feels like.
He sinks his teeth into my shoulder and runs his tongue across my neck, sucking on my tingling skin. He smells of musk, gun powder, and danger.
“You taste so fucking good.”
It takes a second to realize the whimpers filling the room are mine.
“I love the sounds you make when you crave my cock.”
The air is heated and heady, and my arousal is dripping dangerously towards his fingers. I cling to my armor and say, unconvincingly, “I don’t crave anything of yours.”
His lips move over the sensitive skin beneath my earlobe as he speaks, raising the hair on the back of my neck and sending my pulse in overdrive. “Let’s see about that, shall we?”
I should fight him but I’m paralyzed by his scent, his voice, his touch. His finger runs along the crack of my ass to my slick folds. But, instead of sliding into me and filling me, like I so desperately need, he teases the skin just beyond my sensitive entry, running the lightest touch of imaginary circles around my wetness, inching closer each time. My body trembles, aching for him to touch me there, and if he doesn’t soon, I will certainly die.
He tortures me, removing his hand, and a groan of agony escapes me.
He tugs at my thin top. “Are you trying to give every male in Vegas a coronary?”
My voice sounds stronger than my diminishing will power, “I lounge in them, sleep in them, I don’t go grocery shopping dressed like this.”
He pushes the fabric aside to reveal my breasts. The tips of his fingers draw a circle around my nipple before he pinches hard, and I gasp at the pain sending a bolt of pleasure between my thighs.
“Those men are lucky I don’t kill them for looking at you.”
He mimics his actions with my other nipple and I arch into his touch. “Oh, God.”
“No sweetheart. You’ll only find the devil here.” He continues to torment my breasts, pinching and sucking, alternating and teasing me into a frenzy.
“Please,” I beg.
“Don’t worry, Printsessa , in due time.”
My breath hisses.
He pulls away and I muster the courage to meet his gaze, and it’s like looking into the eye of a storm – dark, deep, tumultuous,
Every nerve in my body is alive and screaming for more.
His sneer sends a cold shiver down my back, I should be frightened, but he caresses my wrist with his thumb and the swoosh running through my chest makes me dizzy. He’s controlling but there’s an unexpected softness to him. A softness few people are privileged to see.
“Niko,” I whisper, not knowing if I want him to let go or swallow me whole.
He runs his tongue across his lower lip, those dark hooded eyes boring into my soul.
I finally get my wish. In an instant his mouth crashes into mine, the desire raw. His lips move with a fervor, and my body responds immediately, like it was always waiting for him.
It was.
He lifts me and my legs automatically wrap around his waist as he walks backwards and lays me on the floor, his body crowding over me. Our mouths never separate and our tongues tangle together matching each other’s intensity. I knew kissing Niko would be otherworldly, and a rush of emotions tears into me. All the tension and underlying current pulses between us boiling to the surface. But, there’s something more, something that shouldn’t be here. But now that it is, it’ll be with me forever. Feelings so complicated words can’t express, and our kisses are the only language close enough to translate this powerful connection.
There’s always been a line between us. One he drew in the sand and one I knew we would never cross, but here he is, slashing every conceivable boundary again and again, staking his claim on me. This force between us is unexplainable. I can’t decipher what this moment means, but it feels deeper than a one-night-stand, more profound than physical attraction.
He pulls back and I tentatively search his face.
The center of my chest skips when I hear the vulnerability in his voice. This is a man who laughs in the face of danger, and he’s baring his soul. “You’ve ruined me. You ruined me all those years ago, and somehow, by the deal of the Devil, I held strong… but now…. when I think of someone harming you… fuck…. I will slice the fucker into a million pieces ….. the thought of losing you, even though you’re not mine to lose… fuck, Becca.”
My chest squeezes, his words a boulder of confusion, too heavy to comprehend.
The dark intent in his eyes and the flare of his nostrils and the way his chest rises and falls rapidly. Those dark eyes flame with hunger, like he hasn’t eaten in days and I’m his meal. He has the focus of a hunter, lying still but ready to pounce. My heart hammers, waiting for him to attack, begging him to attack. If he doesn’t I’m going to jump headfirst into the trap myself.
I lick my lips and his gaze follows the tip of my tongue. It takes great effort to restrain himself as his fingers caress the curve of my cheek, his lips softly following to the hollow of my throat. He nips my collarbone and I gasp, his hold tightening, certain to leave a bruise. I feel his control dissipate, and the kindling of need returns with each touch.
His lips seek mine out again, as if they hadn’t separated only moments ago. They yearn for each other with the need of long lost lovers, as if years have passed, and not mere seconds.
But years have passed. Years of longing, wishing, craving. Years of fighting, denying, lying.
If I give up control to this man, will he give me what I so desperately need? He has something other men lack. Not only power, but a warmth few people are allowed to see. He could ruin me.
His strong hands, teasing fingers, and magical mouth were created for pure pleasure. And destruction.
I want both.