24. Dmitri
Dmitri
Alexei’s sedan tears up the drive, sending gravel flying. He only drives like that when Moscow’s on fire.
“Shit.” I watch him through the kitchen window as Katya sips coffee behind me.
“More unexpected visitors?” she asks.
“My brother. He doesn’t come uninvited unless Moscow’s burning.”
Alexei’s out before the car stops, stalking for the house. He spots me through the glass and signals.
Urgent .
“Business emergency?” Katya asks.
“Looks like it.” I face her. “This might take a while.”
“I’ll give you privacy. Maybe another walk.”
“Stay close.”
She nods, and Alexei pounds on the door like he’s raiding the place. I let him in before he wakes the whole countryside.
“We’ve got a problem,” Alexei says the second he sees me.
I let out a long sigh and ask, “When don’t we?”
“Multiple government agencies coordinated surveillance operations starting yesterday. FSB, federal financial crimes unit, and at least two black ops divisions that I can’t identify.”
My stomach drops, and I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Boris counted fourteen surveillance teams circling our sites. They’re not watching; they’re prepping for arrests. Semenov wants to activate protocols and scatter our key people until the heat dies down.”
The suggestion makes sense, but implementing emergency protocols means abandoning the estate and returning to Moscow’s heightened security environment.
It means ending this interlude with Katya before I’m ready.
“How immediate is the threat?”
“Immediate enough that I drove here instead of calling. Phone communications are compromised as of this morning. Viktor Petrov confirmed it an hour ago when he called from a secure line to warn us.”
Viktor’s involvement bothers me. The man runs intelligence operations for multiple families, which means he has access to information that could implicate all of us if he ever cooperates with federal investigators.
“What does Viktor want in exchange for the warning?”
“That’s the interesting part. He’s offering protection services against government intrusion. Claims he can provide countersurveillance and communication security for a reasonable fee.”
“Since when does Viktor offer protection services?”
“Since this morning. He hinted he’s dealt with ‘displaced assets’ before. Said missing personnel could be ‘returned to their handlers’ for the right price.”
The phrasing makes my blood run cold. Viktor’s never been one to get involved in Bratva operations firsthand, which means either he’s expanding his service offerings, or he knows something about our current situation that he hasn’t shared.
“Did he specify what kind of arrangements?”
“He was vague. But he mentioned that government operatives who go missing sometimes find their way home if the right people are motivated to facilitate their return.”
Government operatives. Like missing FSB agents whose handlers might be getting impatient about their lack of contact.
The smart play would be to take Viktor’s offer.
Return Katya to her handlers, complete my original plan for revenge by handing them back their broken agent, and eliminate the threat to my organization all at once.
It’s what I’d planned from the beginning when I decided to keep her alive instead of killing her.
But the thought of her remembering—and of her eyes filling with hate when she realizes what I’ve done—twists something violent in my chest.
She’s no longer just a tool for revenge. She’s become something I can’t sacrifice, even for the satisfaction of destroying her handlers.
What choice do I have but to return her to the FSB if I’m not going to kill her?
“Set up a meeting with Viktor for tomorrow. Secure location, full security protocols.”
“Already arranged. Warehouse district, noon. Dmitri, if Viktor can solve our problem cleanly…”
“I know what the smart move is.”
“But?”
“But nothing. We’ll hear him out and decide what’s best for the family.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
What’s best for the organization is obvious. What’s best for me… I’m not ready to face.
Alexei isn’t satisfied with my non-answers, but he knows better than to push when I’m not ready to commit to a specific course of action.
“Katya and I will leave in the morning,” I assure him. “Back in the city, we’ll get this sorted out.”
“Tonight would be better.”
“Morning,” I repeat with finality.
After Alexei leaves, I bury myself in contingency plans while Katya reads on the porch. My eyes keep drifting back to her. Memorizing her.
By nightfall, the quiet between us is heavy. We both know this peace is over.
“You’re distracted,” Katya says as we clean up.
She’s not wrong. I’ve been buried in worst-case scenarios instead of focusing on her.
“Business. Nothing that can’t be handled.”
“But it’s ending soon, isn’t it? We’re going back to Moscow.”
“Tomorrow morning. Certain matters need my attention.”
She narrows her eyes, disappointment flashing before she hides it. “Always business.”
“I’ve loved being here with you,” she says softly. “Away from everything else, just us.”
“So have I.”
Her kiss comes desperate, like she knows this peace is ending.
“Make love to me,” she whispers. “Before we go back.”
There’s no denying her. I lift her and carry her upstairs, her fingers tearing at my shirt before I even set her down on the bed.
“Katya—”
“I know this doesn’t make sense. I know you’re hiding things. But none of it matters. Right now, I just want to be yours.”
The confession destroys me. This woman who should hate me—who would hate me if she remembered the truth—is offering herself to me with complete trust.
She yanks at the buttons, and the fabric of her clothing follows my shirt to the floor. Black lace clings to her body, and my mouth goes dry.
“Slow down,” I mutter, catching her wrists.
“I don’t want slow. I want you.”
Her words burn through me. My control slips, and I crush my mouth to hers.
“Lie down,” she orders against my throat before pushing me back until I’m sitting on the edge of the bed.
She straddles me, her thighs gripping mine, black lace brushing my skin. I grip her hips to keep from losing it.
“You’re perfect,” I rasp, running my hands up her sides to cup her breasts.
“Then take me.”
The possessive edge in her voice makes me throb inside my jeans. She rocks against me, slow and deliberate, until we’re both moaning.
“Touch me everywhere.” She slides her hands over my chest like she’s claiming me.
Her mouth trails fire across my throat, teeth grazing skin. My control snaps, and I fist her hair, dragging her back to my lips.
When she reaches for my belt, I catch her wrists. “Let me worship you first.”
“Later. Right now, I need to feel you inside me before I lose my mind.”
Her desperation shreds my control. I flip her beneath me and tear the rest of our clothes away. We’re naked, desperate.
“Look at you,” I breathe, drinking her in. Spread for me, flushed, nipples peaked and begging for my mouth.
“Stop looking and start touching,” she demands, arching up to me.
I take one nipple between my lips, sucking hard while my hand works the other. She cries out and threads her fingers through my hair, holding me against her.
“More,” she gasps. “I need more.”
I slide my hand down, find her dripping. She arches and spreads wider for me.
"You’re dripping for me.” My thumb circles her clit.
“Because only you make me feel like this. No one else.”
I slide two fingers into her, steady and relentless. She moans my name, clenching around me.
“I could make you come just like this,” I murmur against her skin. “Watch you fall apart on my fingers.”
“Don’t you dare. I want you inside me when I come.”
Her plea nearly makes my pulse race.
“Please,” she breathes. “I want you now.”
The first slide of my cock into her makes us both cry out with relief. She’s so wet that I sink into her in one stroke, stretching her around me.
“God, you feel incredible.” I hold her still to let her adjust to my size before I start slow, savoring the way she feels around me.
Katya has other ideas.
She rolls us over and straddles me, thighs clamping around my hips. The sight of her above me, black lace barely hanging on, nearly makes me lose it.
“I can’t get enough of you,” I rasp as my hands grip her waist.
“I need you deeper.”
Her words make my cock twitch inside her. She starts to move, slow rolls that drag every inch of me.
“Fuck, Katya.”
She grinds down harder, nipples brushing my chest as she leans over me. “I love watching you lose control.”
“Then finish me.”
Her pace quickens, desperate, head tipped back, hair falling over her shoulders as she rides me raw. My thumb finds her clit, and she breaks apart with a scream, pulsing around me until I can’t hold back.
I spill inside her with a groan, gripping her to me as if I’ll never let go.
She collapses against my chest, panting. I hold her, our breaths tangling until the world goes quiet.
Then she lifts her head, her eyes raw. “Whatever happens in Moscow, this mattered. You matter.”
“You mean everything to me.” The words slip out before I can stop them. But they’re true. I’ve fallen for Katya Kozlov, and there’s no undoing it.