41. Santo
Chapter 41
Santo
T he drive to Maksim’s takes a couple of hours, but for Vasilisa, I’d endure longer. Even though I know I shouldn’t be here, Vera is important to Vasilisa, and that makes this important to me. Maksim is either going to force me to leave—which will end badly for us both—or he’ll have to let me stay as he interrogates his aunt.
I expect resistance when I call up to Maksim’s penthouse, but to my surprise, I’m waved through. Either he’s feeling generous—or he’s planning something. As the elevator doors slide open, Vaska greets me at the entrance.
"Scythe," he drawls, lazy but alert, his blade spinning between his fingers like an afterthought. His eyes are sharp, but his grin is sharper.
“Vaska,” I acknowledge with a curt nod.
“Maksim didn’t call for you,” he says darkly.
“No, but I have a right to be here,” I reply, brushing past him.
I hear the quiet scuff of his boots as he follows me down the hall toward the room Maksim reserves for his “special guests.” Before I can grab the handle, Vaska steps in front of me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Did little Vasi send you?” he mocks. “You can run along and tell your wife her mama will be just fine.
A dark chuckle escapes me as I lean in closer. We’re the same build, but I’m faster, and Vaska knows it. He’s lost to me in every spar we’ve had.
My voice drops low, deadly. "Step aside, Vaska, before I decide that blade of yours belongs in your throat instead of your hand."
“Scythe,” Maksim’s voice carries down the hall, easygoing but edged. “Didn’t think you’d make a house call. Here to check on your mother-in-law, or just miss me?
Vaska glares at me before stepping aside, but I don’t miss the warning in his eyes. I turn to face Maksim, who stands a few feet away, his hair now a ridiculous shade of pink. The snakebites under his lips catch the light, glinting as wickedly as the smirk stretching across his face
“Vasilisa would like to request you don’t kill her mother.”
Maksim clutches his chest in mock horror. “Kill my aunt? How could you think so little of me?” His smirk returns. “Besides, my mother would have my head if I laid a finger on her sister.” He takes a key out of his pocket, “I’m just holding her, so she won’t have any way of warning Miroslav.”
“She’s given you information then?”
“Of course, she squealed as soon as we found her.”
“What has she said?”
“Nothing of use, except she had no choice, her duty as a wife, it was all his idea,” Maksim waves his hands around. “In either case, Miroslav has to return if he’s to make his drop off with the Armenians.”
“So, she has no idea where he is now?”
“She claims he’s in Russia. I’ve got men at every port and border—if he so much as breathes wrong, I’ll know."
He hands me the key, “Still need proof of life? Be my guest but lock the door when you’re done.”
I take the key from Maksim and unlock the door, shutting it firmly behind me. The room is nothing like I remember. What was once barren—a mattress on the floor, a bucket in the corner—is now furnished extravagantly. An ensuite bathroom, a television mounted on pristine white walls adorned with art, and a plush mattress replace the cold emptiness.
Vera Popov sits at the edge of the bed, poised and regal, a statuesque vision in couture. She is Vasilisa’s mirror, but where Vasilisa is soft warmth, Vera is sharp edges and cold steel. A magazine rests in her manicured hands, but as she looks up at me, surprise flickers across her features.
"Mr. Amato."
Her voice is composed, but the way she stiffens betrays her unease.
"Vera." I regard her evenly.
She sets the magazine aside, her gaze wary, shoulders taut.
"I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here for Vasilisa."
Her breath hitches. "Is she okay?"
It’s telling that her first thought is fear. "Why wouldn’t she be?"
She wrings her hands. "I thought when word got to you, that you would..." She trails off, and anger coils in my chest.
"I would never hurt her."
Her head snaps up, shock flashing across her face. "You wouldn’t?"
"No." My brows furrow. "Did Miroslav hurt you?"
Sadness flickers in her eyes before she schools her expression, lifting her chin with practiced grace.
"I am a dutiful wife," she says evenly. "Loyal to my husband. Loyal to the Bratva. He would have no reason to hurt me."
That word—dutiful. It grates against me like a dull blade.
"So, you fled willingly?"
“I followed my husband and did what he asked of me, as any wife should .”
It’s like talking to a robot. “Vasilisa can do what she wants so long as she’s safe.”
Vera’s brows furrow, but she fixes her face and scoffs. “So long as she’s safe and under your control. That is how it is for a woman in this world. Under our husband’s thumb, under his watchful eye.”
I stare at her and her eyes don’t waver from mine. “Miroslav never misses a thing. Not with his obsession ." Her voice drops, almost conspiratorial, before she lifts her chin, feigning indifference. “I suppose Vasilisa’s used to that by now.”
Her words offend me until I catch the rise in her brow and her emphasis on obsessed. She’s giving me a clue, that I immediately put together. I incline my head—just a fraction—in acknowledgment. Her face remains impassive, but her fingers twitch, a small betrayal of tension. I leave the room, locking the door behind me, the key cool in my grip.
Maksim and Vaska are talking by the elevator when I approach.
"Leaving so soon?" Maksim smirks.
"Not yet. Did you check the surveillance at the Popov estate?"
Maksim tilts his head, considering. Vaska answers first. "We grabbed his computer. Footage was wiped."
"The cameras at his residence might have stored data on their memory cards. He could’ve deleted files from the system but not from the source."
Maksim exhales sharply. "He’s as sharp as you, Scythe. He’d know to take those too."
"Maybe. But he left in a hurry—either he was threatened, or he saw the storm coming. When you rush, you make mistakes."
Vaska nods, already moving. "I’ll get a team on it."
"I’ll call Marcus, let him know to expect you at NovaRael," I add. "He and his team can help comb through the footage."
Maksim claps a hand on my shoulder, grinning. "Knew choosing you for Kisa would pay off."
My jaw tightens, but I let it slide.
"Vera told you this?" Maksim asks, more serious now.
"Not outright. But yes."
He mulls it over, expression unreadable. I don’t wait for his next thought—I step into the elevator, already focused on where I need to be.
Home. With my wife.
The city blurs past as I drive, my thoughts fixed on one thing—getting home to Vasilisa. My phone vibrates against the console, Angelo’s name flashing across the screen. I grit my teeth. Whatever this is, it’s about to cost me time with her.
"What." I answer flatly, already irritated.
“You hear Maksim has Vera?”
“I went to see her, Vaska’s pulling memory cards out of the cameras at the Popov estate as we speak.”
“Good, I need a favor.”
“My last favor to the family is sitting at home waiting for me.”
“And what a pretty little favor she is.”
My grip tightens on the wheel. "Watch yourself. What do you want?"
“I need you to take over for a bit,” Angelo says reluctantly.
“Fuck no, why?”
“I can’t say right now, but it will be for a week at most.”
"Not happening. I’m not cutting my time with Vasilisa short."
“You can just bring her around with you, she never leaves that house.”
That lands harder than it should. Vera’s words echo back at me, the weight of them settling deep in my chest. “It isn’t safe.”
“It’s not safe if she’s alone, but she has a small army including Nico, that you’ve somehow roped into your orbit.” Angelo spits. “Take her out, show her your life, show her who you really are.”
“She knows who I am.”
“What the fuck ever. I need you to step up and take over for a week.”
“Get your consigliere to do it.”
“ You’re my brother.”
“Then tell me where you’re going.”
He hesitates before responding. “Florida.”
I let out a sharp laugh, full of disbelief. Angelo curses under his breath. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, now will you do the fucking favor or not?”
“Fine, tell her I said hello.”
The call cuts off before I can get another word in. Fine. I slam my foot down on the gas. Every second wasted is a second too long away from her.
***
The sun has set when I make it back home. Luca and Romeo are in the foyer when I enter.
“Where’s my wife?”
“She’s upstairs,” Luca responds. “Nico took Luna home.”
I nod, briefing them on the memory cards now secured at NovaRael. “Head over there in the morning,” I instruct. “Meet with Marcus, assess the situation, and if necessary, reel Vaska in.”
I take the stairs two at a time, driven by an ache that gnaws at me. Even a few hours without Vasilisa feels like deprivation, like something vital has been carved from my soul. My heart pounds in anticipation, and when I push the door open, the sight of her steals my breath. She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, her laptop balanced on her lap, fingers dancing across the keys. The glow of the screen illuminates her delicate features, and for a fleeting moment, jealousy nips at me—what could she be doing that captures her attention so completely?
But then she looks up, and the moment her gaze locks onto mine the world rights itself. Her smile is a beacon, warm and full of love, her eyes shimmering like constellations, and just like that, every insecurity vanishes.
“You’re home,” she breathes, her voice a mix of relief and happiness. She shuts the laptop, placing it on the nightstand, and bounds off the bed. In a heartbeat, she’s in my arms, her warmth colliding with mine, her lips crashing into me with the urgency of someone starved.
I hold her close, the scent of her warm cashmere perfume wrapping around me like a memory I never want to forget. I scoop her up effortlessly, laying her onto the mattress as my lips map the soft curve of her jaw, trailing down her neck. Her giggles spill into the air; light, unguarded, a sound so perfect, I’d bottle it if I could.
When I finally stop, I gaze down at her. She bites her bottom lip nervously, her big, expressive eyes searching mine. “I missed you,” she whispers, her words carrying the weight of her heart.
“Did you not have fun with your friend?” I ask gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“Luna wasn’t happy she couldn’t come to our wedding,” she admits, her tone tinged with guilt.
A pang of remorse shoots through me, and I cup her cheek, my thumb stroking her soft skin. “Now that she’s been here, she can come by whenever she wants. I’ll make sure of it,” I say, my voice low but firm.
She smiles, but it’s small, hesitant, her eyes betraying a flicker of sadness. “What is it?” I ask, my chest tightening.
“She and I used to meet up once a month at this little café after class,” she says, her lips twisting as if trying to keep her emotions in check. Her nose crinkles, and I know she’s holding back tears. “I miss that. I want to do that again.”
“You want to go to cafes with Luna?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
She nods but adds softly, “And I want to go back to school.”
Her words hit me like a cold wind. “I thought you were going to take online courses.”
“I am, but…” She pauses, her gaze dropping. “It’s not the same,” she murmurs.
I exhale, the weight of her words pressing against my chest like a vice. “I see,” I say, barely above a whisper, as I push off the bed, needing space before my guilt consumes me. She sits up quickly, her worry unmistakable.
“Are you upset?” she asks, her voice trembling.
I shake my head, forcing a tight-lipped smile that barely holds. “No, I just want to get out of these clothes,” I lie, my voice hollow. I kick off my shoes and socks, unbuttoning my shirt and tossing it into the closet. My hands shake slightly as I undo my belt, the weight of her unspoken sacrifices pressing down on me.
When I glance back, I catch her watching me, her eyes darkened with longing. For a moment, the tension between us eases, her lips curving into a playful smile.
“Why don’t you come cuddle?” she purrs, her voice laced with something between a plea and a dare.
I chuckle, shaking my head slightly. “Cuddle, huh?”
She nods, her teeth sinking into her lower lip in a way that makes my pulse race. She’s effortlessly the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, and she has no idea just how much she affects me.
“If you want something, you have to ask… explicitly,” I tease, my voice dipping lower, watching as she squirms under my gaze.
Her lips curve into a sweet, innocent smile, but her eyes gleam with mischief.
“I really just want you to lay down with me. If you do, I’ll give you anything you want.”
Her words are a slow-burning fuse, igniting something deep inside me. I slide the belt free, letting it slip from my fingers and hit the floor with a quiet, deliberate thud. I close the distance between us slowly, savoring the way her breath hitches with every step. “That’s a dangerous thing to offer a man like me.”
“Maybe I like danger,” she whispers, her voice soft yet laced with challenge.
I smirk, leaning in. “No, you think you do,” I murmur, my lips ghosting over hers before I finally claim them in a slow, consuming kiss. Her arms loop around my neck, pulling me closer.
She’s intoxicating, her every touch, every sigh, sending my resolve teetering on the edge. When I deepen the kiss, she lets out a soft moan—needy, perfect, and wholly mine.
But then, I stop.
I pull away, even as her lips chase mine, lingering in the space where I was. A pang of hesitation grips me, and I shift, settling beside her instead. The confusion in her eyes is a knife to my gut, but I can’t go on; not with this weight pressing against my ribs.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen with my mom?” she asks, her voice tender but tinged with worry. She props herself up on her elbow, her brows drawn together in concern.
“No, no she’s fine, safe,” I assure her, but then I hesitate, the words lodging in my throat. With a steadying breath, I ask, “Do you feel trapped here?”
“Trapped?” she repeats, her voice rising with uncertainty.
“Yes,” I say carefully. “Like… under watch. Under my thumb.”
Her gaze flicks upward, to the camera positioned in the corner of the room. “You mean because of the cameras?” she asks, her voice thoughtful.
“Yes.”
She smirks, shrugging a little. “I mean, they’re weird and invasive, sure. And I don’t like when you take people away from me because of what you think you see. But I understand why you have them.”
Her words sting, even if they’re delivered with a soft smile.
“I don’t take people away,” I say defensively, trying to keep my tone light as I give her a mock angry glare. “And I’ve already fixed that.”
Her giggle breaks through the tension, a sound so pure it makes my chest tighten. I can’t help but smile as I reach out to caress her cheek.
“So… you don’t want to leave?” I ask, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
She chuckles softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “If I did leave, would you try to find me?”
My expression grows serious, my voice low and unwavering. “I would tear through heaven and hell to find you. Until the world ceases to exist.”
Her breath catches, surprise flickering across her features. A blush blooms on her cheeks, making her look even more beautiful than she already is. “That’s… sexy, Santo. Maybe you should change your threat if you’re trying to be scary.”
“No,” I say firmly. “I don’t want you to ever be scared of me.”
Her playful smile fades, and the room falls quiet. She looks at me then, her eyes full of something that pierces straight through me—hope, light, beauty. Slowly, she places her small, soft hand on my cheek, her thumb brushing over my skin in a touch so tender it almost undoes me.
“I don’t feel trapped,” she says, her voice soft but steady. “You’ve given me more than I ever had before. I have a home , a place to express my art, a library full of books, a space to decorate with my creations, a laptop for school, a whole new wardrobe, a staff that feels like friends… brothers I never knew I needed… I’m happy. I don’t want to leave.”
Her gaze locks onto mine, unwavering as she says the words that stop my heart. “I love you.”
She says it so sincerely, so easily, that for a moment, I can’t breathe. My chest tightens, her words sinking deep into a place I didn’t know existed. I never expected to hear those words—not from her.
My mind races with a thousand things I want to say, but all that comes out is a stunned, “What?”
“What?” she echoes, confused, her brows knitting together.
I cup her hand on my cheek, holding it there for a second, feeling the warmth of her touch like a brand on my skin before I lower it slowly. She watches, her confusion deepening, uncertainty flickering across her face. “What did you say?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
“I love you?” she repeats, her tone unsure now, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge my reaction.
A slow smile spreads across my face, breaking through the haze in my mind. “Yes. Say it again.”
She laughs, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “Santo!”
“Again,” I demand, my voice rougher now, more desperate than I’d like to admit..
She smirks, her confidence returning as she leans closer. “I love you.”
Her words barely leave her lips before I roll us over, pinning her beneath me. A squeal of surprise escapes her as I press my mouth to hers, pouring everything I can’t put into words into the kiss—my gratitude, my devotion, my unrelenting love for this woman whose changed everything.
She turns her head away breathless, her cheeks flushed and eyes shining. “Well, at least now I know how to get you to kiss me like that,” she teases, wrapping her arms around me.
I cup her cheek and press my forehead against hers. “It’s not just about the words Vasilisa,” I tell her, my voice more at peace than it’s ever been. “It’s about the feeling behind them. The sincerity in your eyes when you say them.”
I pull back slightly to look at her. Her hair is spread out on the pillow around her, the lamplight turning it into a golden halo around her face. She’s looking at me with those beautiful eyes of hers, filled with warmth and trust. I kiss her once more, never getting enough of those lips and then I roll off her, pulling her into my side as we lay there in silence. The steady rhythm of our breathing fills the room. It’s peaceful. Contentment washes over me as I run my fingers gently through her hair. This was what happiness feels like.
Breaking the silence, Vasilisa speaks up suddenly, “Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?” I ask.
She lifts her head from my chest and looks at me seriously. “When you said you would tear through heaven and hell for me.”
I stare back into her eyes just as seriously and nod. “Every word.”
A small smile forms on her lips, and she nestles her face into my neck, I wrap an arm securely around her, hugging her close. Her lips skim my neck, a whisper of warmth trailing in their wake. Her breath, soft and steady, fans over my skin, each exhale igniting a slow-burning fire that spreads through me, curling at the edges of my restraint.
She moves her lips slowly, as if savoring the moment. Her delicate fingers glide gently over my skin, tracing the contours of my chest and leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. With every stroke, I feel her warmth seeping into me, igniting a fire within. Her touch is soothing and electrifying at the same time, sending shivers down my spine and making every hair on my body stand on end. I close my eyes and let out a content sigh, savoring the sensation of her hands roaming over me. Her hand slides lower toward the waistband of my pants and I catch her wrist gently, my heart pounding in a sweet rhythm. She looks up, eyes dark and searching, uncertainty flickering beneath undeniable need.
“Santo,” she whispers, her voice a breath of want against my skin. “I need you.”
My heart races at her words, and my grip tightens slightly on her wrist. She swallows visibly, her gaze searching my face for any signs of rejection. But I couldn’t possibly say no to her. To Vasilisa. Mia Dea. My Goddess.
I’ve wanted this, craved this from the second our eyes met.
“Are you sure?” I ask with a ragged breath, needing to make certain she’s aware of what she’s asking for. That the moment she’s completely mine, there will be no turning back. Her eyes darken, and she nods, a small smile gracing her lips.
“Yes,” she whispers, reaching up with her free hand to stroke my jawline gently. “I need you.”
Those words are enough to push me past any lingering reservations. I shift flipping her beneath me, my lips crash down on hers with an overwhelming intensity. She responds instantly, her thighs parting in silent invitation as my hand trails up the silken skin of her leg, pushing her dress higher with agonizing patience. I know she’s wet for me; I can feel the heat radiating from her. My tongue plunges into her mouth, claiming, devouring, as my fingers slip between her legs, pressing against the damp lace covering her perfect, soaked pussy.
A choked moan spills from her lips. Desperate. Needy. Mine .
I break the kiss to drag my mouth along her throat, tasting her pulse, feeling the erratic rhythm against my tongue. Beneath me, she trembles, her fingers digging into my back as I continue to ravish her body.
“This needs to come off,” I growl huskily, pulling at the fabric of her dress as she sits up until it reveals that she’s braless underneath. The lamplight casts a golden glow over her bare skin, accentuating every delicate curve. Her cheeks are flushed, her chest rising and falling with breathless anticipation.
My temptation. My offering. My masterpiece.
“Dea,” I drawl, pressing a lingering kiss to her collarbone before gently pushing her back onto the bed.
Her body melts beneath me. Open. Yielding. Ready.
I devour her with my mouth, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses over the elegant line of her neck, down the delicate swell of her breasts. My tongue circles a hardened peak before I suck it into my mouth, teasing, licking, grazing it with my teeth until she gasps and writhes beneath me, her fingers tugging at my hair, desperate for more.
Slowly, I make my way down her stomach, relishing in the sound of her ragged breaths and pleasurable gasps. When I reach the edge of her panties, I feel her tense in anticipation.
“Faster,” she begs breathlessly.
A wicked smirk tugs at my lips.
Not yet.
I tease her first, pressing my mouth right against the damp lace, inhaling the scent of her soaking wet pussy. My tongue flicks out, tracing a slow, deliberate stroke over the fabric, barely giving her what she needs. She whimpers, her thighs trembling.
“Patience, Dea,” I murmur, my voice dark and indulgent. “You know I love to take my time.”
Her breath hitches and I slide off her panties, revealing every inch of her to me. My cock jerks at the sight. For a moment, I am captivated by the sheer beauty of her naked body beneath mine as if I’m seeing her again for the first time, spread out, slick and glistening for me.
She is a fucking dream.
And all mine.
“Look at you,” I rasp, my fingers gripping her thighs to admire what's mine. “So pretty and wet for me.”
A blush stains her cheeks, but there’s no shyness in her gaze—only raw, liquid desire.
She wants this. She wants me.
“Perfect,” I whisper, the word a prayer against her skin. I press another slow, lingering kiss to her abdomen, savoring the soft shudder that runs through her before continuing my devotion and worship of every inch of this goddess before me.
A shiver rolls through her, a delicious tremor that courses through her lithe body. A growl rumbles low in my throat as I lower my head, determined to commit every inch of her perfection to memory. From her entrance to her aching clit, savoring every drop of her arousal. With each slow, deliberate lick, her moans grow louder, breathless little whimpers that have pride swelling in my chest. I’ll never get over her taste—pure fucking heaven, the perfect blend of sweetness and the intoxicating musk of desire. And it’s all mine.
She is mine.
Her hands tangle in my hair, tugging hard as I suck her clit between my lips, teasing and flicking the sensitive bud with my tongue. I groan against her, the vibrations pulling a sharp gasp from her lips. I could stay here forever, lost in the way she writhes beneath me, her hips rolling to chase the pleasure only I can give her.
I slide a finger into her tight, hot pussy, feeling her walls clench down around me, greedy and desperate. Fuck , she’s so tight. My cock aches, the need to bury myself inside her almost unbearable. But this is her first time—mine to take, mine to ruin , mine to cherish. I force myself to go slow, despite my desperation, to make sure she’s ready before I claim her the way I need to.
As she moans out my name, I curl my finger inside of her, pressing against that sweet, sensitive spot, and she gasps. Adding another finger, I start to thrust, stretching her open, preparing her for me and relishing in the way she whines and pants beneath me.
“There you go,” I rasp, my voice thick with need. “Come for me, Dea.”
My fingers continue their relentless pumping as I watch with rapture as she moans, writhes, and bucks her hips. Her hazy eyes lock onto mine, full of raw, desperation. I seal my mouth over her clit once more, sucking hard as my fingers fuck her without mercy. She cries out, her body seizing up before shattering, her walls pulsing around my fingers as she comes, soaking my hand in her release.
Tears spill down her cheeks as she whimpers my name, her body still trembling from the force of her orgasm. She is fucking divine; truly a goddess in this moment, wrecked and perfect beneath me, her pleasure laid bare for me to witness.
As her breath steadies, I remove the rest of my clothes before positioning myself between her thighs. I kiss her, slow and deep, and she moans against my lips, licking at them, tasting herself with a soft, needy sigh.
And fuck, if that isn’t the most perfect fucking thing I’ve ever seen.