48. Santo
Chapter 48
Santo
T here’s a way Vasilisa’s eyes burn when she’s angry—a wildfire licking at the edges of an unforgiving winter. It’s beautiful. Maddening. Magnetic. A force meant to consume or command, and I don’t know which I want more.
She’s wound tight in my lap, every muscle humming with restraint, thrumming against my control. When she finally turns those smoldering eyes onto me, I see a twinge of irritation but also defiance. It makes my heart swell with something akin to pride.
Luca shifts his weight, exhaling through his nose like he’d rather be anywhere else. Vasilisa pins him in place with a look, and for once, he doesn’t have a smart remark.
“I don’t want to hide,” she finally breaks the silence, her voice low and surly. “I want to stay here.”
“You don’t know Sarkisian like we do, Vasi,” Luca interjects and immediately regrets it as she shoots him an icy glare.
She turns her focus on me, sharp and unyielding. “I’m not made of glass, Santo. I don’t shatter.”
Her conviction strikes like a knife, sharp and undeniable. I know Vasilisa is strong, but hearing it from her lips makes it absolute.
“I know,” I say just to her, my thumb pressing into her knee, not tracing anymore, just holding her there. “I’ve always known.”
The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken things. Luca watches me, waiting for my call. Vasilisa watches me, waiting for my trust .
“Alright, but I can’t make any decision about your safety until we hear the audio… maybe you should,” I say to her arching an eyebrow as her frown turns into a deep scowl.
“No,” she says with conviction. “I’m not leaving this room, I want to hear it.”
I exhale, dragging a hand down my jaw before looking at Luca. “When did Beaumont send the file?’”
“Right before I got here, to your secure email.”
I ignore Luca’s stare and open the file. The first crackles bleed through the speakers—garbled, broken—but then, a voice slices through the static.
Miroslav Popov.
Vasilisa goes completely still, her breath hitching.
“Please one more chance.”
“You’ve run out of chances Popov, you over promised and didn’t deliver.”
“This was out of my hands. Korsakov—”
A sharp metallic click cuts Miroslav off, the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking. The silence that follows is suffocating.
“I can give you what you want plus more money.”
“I don’t need your fucking money, I want what was promised.”
“Both my daughters are upstairs, please, my youngest is fifteen.”
“Fifteen?”
“Yes.”
A chair scrapes, footsteps shuffle—then another voice cuts in, low, urgent. “Miroslav, I— holy fuck.”
Vasilisa jerks upright at the sound of Jude Olsen’s voice, her breath catching as shock flares in her eyes.
“Jude, now is not the fucking time!”
“The boyfriend?”
“I— yes.”
“We should talk.”
The sound of the door shutting and Miroslav cursing under his breath ends the audio.
Vasilisa is frozen, her breath shallow, her wide eyes locked on the screen as if she can will the audio to change. The fire that usually burns in her is dimmed, clouded with worry.
A pang of helplessness settles in my chest, sharp and unwelcome. All I can do is hold her tighter.
“He wants Mimi,” she breathes, her voice laced with worry.
“We won’t let that happen,” I murmur, pressing a firm kiss to her temple. My gaze flicks to Luca. “Is that what we think the drop-off is for?”
“It’s a strong possibility.”
“Do we have eyes on Olsen?”
“Not yet. Last report had him back in Seattle.”
“I can call him,” Vasilisa says suddenly.
“The hell you will, ” I snap, jealousy flaring hot in my throat.
She meets my gaze, calm but insistent. “He can’t be in Seattle,” she says quietly, glancing between Luca and me. “He has to be here for his father’s banquet.”
“We can send men to crash it, but you’re not being used as bait.”
“Why not?” she challenges, her chin tilting defiantly. My breath hitches at the fire in her eyes—strong, unrelenting. Inspiring. Infuriating. Irresistible.
“Because it’s dangerous,” I grit out, forcing my voice to stay even. “You’re too valuable to risk.”
Her brows pull together. “But Mimi— ”
“Mimi is safe,” Luca interjects. “Andras has twenty-four-hour surveillance, and Santo has men there.”
She regards Luca for a moment, then turns to me, her eyes searching mine. Pleading .
“She’ll be safe?”
“Of course,” I soothe, wrapping my arms around her as she presses into me, laying her head on my shoulder. I glance at Luca, giving him a grateful nod.
“If any more audio is deciphered, send it over immediately,” I order, dismissing him.
Once we are alone, I press a soft kiss on Vasilisa’s forehead, then her nose before brushing her lips with mine. Her body melts into mine - a testament of trust that fills me with an inexplicable sense of contentment.
Her body’s warmth against mine reminds me of our unfinished business. My voice is a low command: “Hop on the desk.”
She pulls back slightly, brows knitting together—then they lift, excitement flickering in her gaze. “My turn?”
“Hell yes,” I drawl as she perches on to the desk, her legs bare, her skirt barely covering her thighs. I push my chair closer and pull her legs over my shoulders
As her legs part, my gaze sharpens. “Bare again , Dea?”
She blushes and nods. I push her skirt up as I kiss up her thighs, sucking as I go, leaving a trail of love bites on her fair skin. She gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders as I drag a slow touch up the inside of her thigh.
“Santo...” she breathes as I continue my ministrations, my hands dancing over her bare skin. Her body squirms under my touch, sending ripples of pleasure coursing through me.
I tease her mercilessly, going slow and taking my time, drinking in every moan and shiver that escapes from her parted lips. Her body trembles with anticipation, and I can feel the heat radiating off her, making me lose all sense of time and space. I circle her clit with my tongue as I slide a finger inside her. She moans, her body trembling. Another flick of my tongue makes her whimper, and I drink in the taste of her, branding it to memory. Her hips buck against my face, urging me deeper. I take the hint and add another finger, stretching her deliciously as I continue to lap at her clit. With every thrust of my fingers and flick of my tongue, she moans louder, sounds of pure pleasure that send shivers down my spine.
Her thighs tighten around my shoulders, her body trembling—so close. But I don’t let her fall just yet. Instead, I slow, teasing her with the barest movements, waiting for the inevitable sound I crave.
“Santo... please ,” she begs, her voice rough, needy.
I look up at her from between her thighs, our eyes meeting. “Tell me exactly what you want, Dea, ” I murmur against her skin, knowing very well what she craves, but wanting to hear it from her lips.
“I want... I want you...” she pants out as she reaches for me, fingers threading through my hair. I plunge two fingers back into her depths while circling her clit with my tongue.
Her body tenses up instantly as an orgasm takes hold of her. She cries out my name in a strangled moan as waves of pleasure ripple through her body.
I slow down my pace, drawing out her ecstasy for as long as possible. As she comes down from her high, I continue to lick her gently – soothing and caressing until I am sure every tremor has subsided. Her scent intoxicates me, her taste driving me further. I stand, letting her legs fall, and I unbutton my pants, pulling both my pants and underwear down to release my cock, now hard again from watching her climax. I rub the head of my cock from her clit to her entrance, her eyes flash with excitement.
“Yes,” she breathes putting her feet up on the desks edge, she’s beautifully spread for me.
I push inside her.
Her gasp fills the room as pleasure shoots through me. I anchor my arms on either side of her, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips as I slowly bury myself to the hilt.
She gasps into my mouth, and I grab the edge of the desk above her and pull back a bit to thrust in hard.
Each thrust earns me a gasp, a moan that echoes in the quiet room. She’s tight and slick around me, every movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through our bodies. I pull back and slam into her again and again, watching as she throws her head back in ecstasy.
“Santo... more,” she whispers, eyes fluttering shut.
I capture her lips in a searing kiss as I pound into her harder and faster, spurred by her plea. She meets me thrust for thrust, her body rocking with mine on the desk. The room fills with the sound of our labored breathing; the steady impact of our bodies meeting fuels the fire between us.
Feeling her legs wrap tightly around my waist, she fuses me to her as she pulls me deeper inside. She’s so close now; I can tell from the way her hot pussy is clenching around me. Wanting to take her over the edge with me, I grind into her and hit that spot deep inside that makes her gasp out loud.
“Let go for me, Dea...” I urge her gently.
She bites down on her lower lip as a powerful orgasm tears through her. Her body convulses underneath me and the sight of it sends me over the edge too. Pleasure seizes me, white-hot and consuming, as I lose myself inside her.
I press soft kisses all over her face - on the corners of her eyes, on the tip of her nose, on those swollen lips that have driven me crazy since I met her. Her eyes flutter open, soft and unguarded. And there it is—the raw, unspoken trust that’s mine alone.
“I love you,” I whisper against her lips.
***
I take Vasilisa to La Serenata for dinner. This time, I don’t clear out the restaurant, but Vincenzo still serves us personally. We take a booth tucked into the corner, and instead of sitting across from me, Vasilisa slides in beside me. The ambient lighting casts a soft, ethereal glow over her skin. She rests her head on my shoulder as we wait for our orders, a sweet gesture that sends a wave of contentment through me. Her fingers trace lazy circles over the back of my hand. My girl is happy.
Content.
Safe.
I never thought I’d have this—let alone deserve it.
We sit there, lost in our own bubble, and I can’t help but marvel at her softness. Vasilisa. My Vasilisa. The woman who took a man steeped in darkness and turned him inside out with her light.
She shifts against me, parting her lips in a soft sigh. Her eyes take on that faraway look that tells me she’s lost in thought. She doesn’t speak, and I don’t push. I’ve learned that with Vasilisa, silence is never empty—she’ll share when she’s ready.
Our dinner arrives, and we eat in comfortable silence. Dea picks at her food slowly, savoring each bite. Her eyes light up when she finds a flavor she likes, and the soft hum of pleasure she makes after a sip of wine sends warmth curling through me. It’s the little things that enchant me most—the ones she doesn’t even realize she does.
After we finish our meal, Vincenzo comes by and asks us if we’d like dessert. I can see Vasilisa hesitating; she’s got an insatiable sweet tooth, but I can tell she’s thinking about her stash at home.
“Order whatever you want, Dea,” I murmur, lips brushing her ear. “You can raid your snack stash later.”
She smiles at me sweetly before ordering tiramisu for us. We continue to chat about everything and nothing. Tomorrow, the staff returns, and I’ll have to leave her with guards while I meet with Angelo. The thought of it gnaws at me. I’m consumed by her—an hour apart already feels unbearable.
On the drive home, Vasilisa links our fingers and hums happily. I look over at her as she stares out the window, the soft glow of the streetlights illuminates her face. “What’s going on in that head?”
She peeks over at me, her smile tinged with sadness. “I’m going to miss you.”
I lift our conjoined hands and kiss her fingers. “I will come home to you in our bed, every night.”
She worries her bottom lip before giving me a nod. I park the car out front, and I follow her inside, she begins removing clothes as she heads to the kitchen.
With effortless grace, she kicks off her heels and lets her dress slip to the floor, leaving her in nothing but lace. My brow lifts in amusement, and she meets it with a playful smile, hand outstretched. “Shirt, please.”
I shake my head playfully, but comply by unbuttoning my shirt and handing it to her. She puts it on hastily, barely bothering to button it up properly. I lean against the countertop, taking in the view of my petite goddess bustling around the kitchen. She returns with snack cakes in hand, tossing one to me with a mischievous grin as she takes a seat. I catch it easily and take a moment to appreciate her adorable beauty. I am completely and utterly in love with this woman.
Placing the snack cake on the counter, I grab a glass from the cupboard and make my way to the fridge. I pour her a glass of milk and slide it towards her, watching as she dips the already half-eaten cake into the creamy liquid with a self-satisfied hum. Unable to resist any longer, I press my lips against hers in a sweet kiss. “You’re beautiful,” I murmur against her chocolate-coated lips.
Her tongue darts out to lick my lips and I deepen the kiss, savoring the taste of chocolate on her tongue. Her arms wrap around my shoulders and she moans softly into my mouth.
The moment is perfect. Blissful. Until a voice ruins everything.
“Ugh, that’s disgusting,” comes my sister’s unmistakable voice.
We both freeze, turning to see Elena standing in the threshold of the kitchen with her hand up to shield her eyes like she’s been personally offended by the sight of us. Behind her, Riot stands with a smirk plastered on his stupid fucking face.
A rush of possessiveness surges through me, instinctive and immediate. I step in front of Vasilisa, blocking Riot’s line of sight to her. He shouldn’t be looking at her. No one should.
“Get the fuck out of here, Riot,” I snap, my voice low, dangerous.
He chuckles like the asshole he is but lifts his hands in surrender and saunters out, all too amused with himself. I watch him go, jaw clenched, before turning my attention to Elena, still lingering with an attitude like she owns the place.
“Why are you here?” My voice is clipped, my irritation bubbling just below the surface.
I should be happy she’s back. I should be relieved. But her timing is fucking terrible, and I’m still wound tight from the interruption.
Elena raises a brow, unimpressed. “I came home since no one thought to tell me our father almost died.”
Her tone is pure Elena—sharp, challenging, and laced with attitude. Hands on her hips, she glares at me like I’m the one who’s wrong for not rolling out the red carpet for her grand return.
I scoff. “Oh, so now you care to come home? We didn’t think you gave a fuck about Dad, considering you didn’t even bother after you almost got taken.”
Elena grimaces, clearly unbothered by my fury. “Ew, if you’re going to yell at me, at least put on a shirt.”
I take a threatening step forward, my patience already razor-thin. “This is my fucking house. I want my key back.”
She folds her arms, not backing down. “No. You gave it to me.”
“In case of emergency .”
“Dad in the hospital constitutes an emergency.”
“Why didn’t you go to Angelo’s?”
“I did,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “But I wanted to meet your wife.”
At that, I feel Vasilisa shift behind me, peeking out from where she’s been pressed against my back.
Elena’s gaze flicks to her, lips curling slightly before she lifts a hand in a small wave.
Vasilisa hesitates but waves back.
I groan, already seeing where this is going. “Don’t encourage her, Vasilisa.”
Vasilisa
I peer over Santo’s shoulder. The pretty brunette still stands there, watching me.
She’s a striking combination of her two brothers—dark-haired and sharp-featured. But her eyes, a warm light brown, soften her overall appearance, giving her an air of quiet observation rather than cold intensity.
Her clothes are effortlessly expensive, her hair sleek and styled, and even though Santo is practically growling at her, she seems entirely unbothered. She exudes an air of sophistication that tells me she’s used to commanding a room without needing to raise her voice.
She meets my eyes, and I instinctively sink back behind Santo, half-hidden by his broad frame.
At the mention of my name, her lips twitch. “Vasilisa?” she repeats, her tone laced with curiosity.
Santo grunts, muttering something under his breath, before turning toward me. Before I can process what’s happening, he scoops me up, arms firm around me, and strides toward the pantry.
I blink, startled. “Santo— ”
He doesn’t respond, just steps into the elevator inside the pantry, jaw tight. The doors close behind us, sealing us in silence, leaving Elena behind.
The elevator doors slide open into our closet. Santo puts me down without a word, his grip lingering for just a second before he steps back.
“Get dressed,” he grunts out.
I grab a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, pulling them on as Santo puts on a shirt. I wrap my arms around his waist, “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”
He presses a lingering kiss to the top of my head. “It’s our last night alone before everything gets too busy again.”
I look up at him, his face hardened and angry. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, pressing my cheek against his chest. “We can tell her she can come back tomorrow and I can get to know her then.”
He exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. Leaning down, he kisses me—slow and grounding. “Alright.”
He laces our fingers together, leading me out of the bedroom and down the stairs
Elena is in the living room with Riot, the model looking guard she came in with, “Listen, I screwed up, alright?” Elena sighs, crossing her arms. “Angelo just got back from a trip, he wasn’t exactly in a welcoming mood. It’s too late to see Dad, and—I should have come home sooner. I get it.”
Santo sighs, “Next time we ask you to come home, come home .”
She nods, and Riot’s hand skims over her back in a gesture that feels too familiar.
“Hands off my sister,” Santo snaps, his voice sharp enough to cut. Whatever restraint he had before is gone in an instant. Riot withdraws his hand quickly, raising it and backing up with a smirk.
“Understood, boss,” Riot responds, his voice smooth as silk even though the tension in the room is cutting edge sharp.
Elena rolls her eyes, clearly unfazed. Then, just like that, she pivots her attention to me. “Vasilisa, right?”
“Yes,” I smile removing my hand from Santo's to extend towards Elena.
Instead of shaking my hand, she bats it aside and pulls me into a hug. I barely have time to react before I’m wrapped in her warmth, her perfume filling my senses. “It’s so nice to finally have a sister,” she says kindly.
We part, but hold hands. “I have a younger sister, but she’s away at school, it will be nice to get to know you… tomorrow?” I ask.
She nods understandingly, “Yes, tomorrow.” She gives Santo a sideways glance. “Is that alright with you, Boss ?“ she asks sarcastically.
“Don’t push it,” Santo grumbles. Elena holds her hands up in mock surrender, a smirk playing on the edges of her lips, before she pivots and heads to the front door.
“I will see you tomorrow then,” she calls over her shoulder, Riot trailing behind her like a loyal guard dog.
Their departure leaves a silence that rings heavy in the air. I turn to Santo. His eyes are still glued to the now-closed front door, jaw held tight.
I pull him out of his thoughts by slipping my hand into his. His fingers tighten reflexively around mine, his gaze shifting down to me. The anger has faded from his features, replaced by a softness that makes my heart flutter.
“We, okay?” I ask softly, looking up at him through my lashes.
“Always, you’re never the problem, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. “We can deal with Elena tomorrow,” he replies gruffly.
I chuckle, but before I can say anything, Santo pulls me flush against him, lifting me effortlessly into his arms. His lips find mine in a kiss that’s deep and claiming.
He pulls back just enough to murmur against my lips, “Upstairs. Now. I need to be inside you.”