Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Silas
The bedroom door clicked shut behind me, cutting off Anthea's amber eyes—full of longing and heartbreak.
Her warmth still lingered on my hands, but I killed that feeling in two fucking seconds flat. Anthea was the breeding vessel my father handpicked to continue the Thorne bloodline. Nothing more.
I cleaned up fast and headed downstairs.
The grand hall gleamed under a massive crystal chandelier, its light sharp and decadent, bathing everyone below.
My father, the current Pakhan, sat in his usual spot. Old, but those eyes were still hawk-sharp.
"Silas." He nodded, satisfied. "You're here."
"Father." I returned the nod.
Then I turned to Vanessa. She sat in the armchair beside him, flawless. A red dress hugged her curves, matching that signature mane of red curls. Legs crossed at an angle, a polished smile on her lips.
This was the future lady of the Thorne family. A mob princess who knew exactly what mask to wear and when.
"Vanessa, welcome back. How was London?"
"Very productive. Silas, it's been too long. You look more composed. More dangerous." Her smile widened as her gaze traveled over me.
Damn obvious. If Anthea was a lily kissed by morning dew, Vanessa was a rose—bold, thorned, hungry.
"Vanessa came straight from the airport," Father said, eyes flicking between us. "I was just asking about her parents. Vanessa, I hear your father's making moves in Colombia?"
Vanessa answered smoothly. "Yes, Mr. Thorne. He's consolidating the South American market. Demand's exploding—purity's through the roof. He's renegotiating prices and shares. You know how greedy those Colombians can be. That's why I came alone this time."
"Big business." Father nodded approvingly, rising with the help of his lion-headed cane. "When you go back, invite them to the manor. Since you and Silas are getting engaged, it's time our operations merged."
"I will. That's exactly what my father wants." Vanessa's voice was obedient, but her eyes stayed hooked on me.
"Good. You kids talk. These old bones need rest." Father waved me off when I moved to help him. As he passed, he dropped his voice low—just for me. "She's smart, Silas. She brings half of Miami's drug trade with her. Don't fuck it up."
"I understand, Father."
As the future Pakhan of the Bratva, I knew my duty. Everything was a tool to reach my ambition. Including Anthea and Vanessa.
The moment Father disappeared down the hall, the air shifted. Vanessa's prim facade melted away. She relaxed, stood, and sauntered toward me.
"So," she purred, voice playful now, testing, "my mother was right? You got yourself a surrogate? A schoolteacher ten years younger than you?"
I walked to the bar and poured myself a bourbon.
"Yes. For the Bratva's future. I need an heir." I took a sip, turned to face her. "And you can't... You know we'll need children after the marriage, Vanessa."
A shadow crossed her face, gone in an instant. She was smart enough to know this was unchangeable.
"I understand." She stepped close, fingers grazing my chest. "I'm just curious. I heard she's very... innocent?"
She leaned in. Her perfume was aggressive, invasive—nothing like Anthea's natural scent.
"I want to meet her." Her voice dropped. "After all, her baby will call me mother. I should see what kind of woman is carrying our future child."
I looked at her, expression flat. But Anthea's face flashed through my mind.
Those amber eyes—when they looked at you like you were everything, you wanted to ruin her. Lips soft and full, practically begging to be claimed, though I'd never actually kissed her. And that blonde hair, spilling across my chest, sparking something deep and maddening.
"No need." I yanked myself back, shut her down. "She's resting. Doctor's orders. She needs to stay calm for the baby."
"Oh, please." Vanessa rolled her eyes. Her fingers traced circles on my chest, teasing. "Don't be so tense, Silas. I just want a look, but you're hiding her like..." Her gaze sharpened. "Unless you're interested in her? Did you fall for her?"
Stupid question.
"Fall for her? Don't use childish words, Vanessa." I laughed coldly, grabbed her waist, and pulled her tight against me. "This is a transaction. She provides the womb, I provide the money. Our marriage is what matters."
I said it hard. Because it was the truth.
Vanessa stared into my eyes for a few seconds, searching. Then she smiled, satisfied.
"Fine." She shrugged. "As long as the baby's healthy, I don't care."
She dropped the idea of meeting Anthea and turned her full attention to me.
"Since I don't have to meet that boring pregnant woman," Vanessa slid down, kneeling between my legs, eyes smoldering, "let me give you a Valentine's gift, my fiancé."
I set my glass down, leaned back against the bar, and looked down at her.
Vanessa unbuckled my belt. The zipper hissed. She freed my cock.
"God..." She breathed, eyes hazy and wild. "It's already this big, and you're not even hard. Silas, this was made for me."
She opened her red lips and took me all the way in.
Warm. Wet. Tight. My cock jerked inside her mouth, swelling instantly to full size.
Vanessa's technique was flawless. She knew exactly how to swirl her tongue around the sensitive ridge, how to hollow her cheeks for suction. The wet sounds from deep in her throat echoed obscenely in the silent hall.
It felt good. Raw pleasure, like high-octane fuel pumping through an engine. I closed my eyes, let her tongue work. Her hands kneaded my balls with perfect pressure.
But then—damn it—Anthea's face appeared in my mind. I thought of her clumsy, eager attempts in bed. The way her amber eyes looked at me with stupid, unguarded trust. Love.
"Silas..."
Fuck. Why was her voice crawling into my head now?
I snapped my eyes open, looked down at Vanessa—red curls bouncing as her head moved. But all I could see was Anthea's blonde hair spread across the pillow. Disgust twisted in my gut. I hated this loss of control.
I grabbed Vanessa's head roughly and shoved down hard. My cock plunged deep into her throat.
"Mmph!" She gagged but didn't pull back. Instead, she sucked harder, throat muscles clamping down, trying to drain me.
I thrust fast, brutal, wanting it over.
"Fuck."
With a low growl, anger and release tangled together, I came—hot and hard down her throat. Vanessa swallowed, struggling, then lifted her head. White streaks clung to her lips, but her face wore satisfaction.
I panted. The irritation didn't fade with the release.
"Looks like you enjoyed me. More fun than that pregnant woman, right?" Vanessa stood and whispered in my ear. "I missed you, Silas."
Her hands wandered, ready for more. Then my phone buzzed, sharp, urgent. I snapped out of it and caught her wrist.
"Emergency call." I pulled out my phone and answered.
"BOSS!" Marco's voice came through the wind and panic. "Our premium shipment on Highway 5 got hit—Tomaso's Italian bastards! They took the goods and put several of our guys in the hospital. They're heading north. We need backup!"
My eyes went cold. Lethal. Tomaso Lucese. That rat had been skulking in the shadows, watching the Thorne family. And now he had the balls to hit my core route.
"Hold them." My voice was ice. "Don't let them run. Contact Pavel. We're on our way."
I hung up, buckled my belt, and turned to leave.
Vanessa stared, disbelief on her flushed face. "Silas, you're leaving? You just came in my mouth, and now you're throwing me away like trash?"
"Tomaso hit our shipment. That's your father's most valued line." I gripped her shoulder, stroked her hair—calming, controlled.
"That fucking Tomaso..." She cursed, then grabbed my tie and pulled me down. "Fine. Go kill people. But before you leave, you owe me."
She stood on her toes, lips close. "Kiss me."
I kissed her—no tenderness. Just blood and the foul taste of cum. Seconds later, I pulled away.
Underground armory.
No luxury carpets or crystal chandeliers here. Just cold concrete, bulletproof glass cases, and the smell of gun oil. I strode in, tossed my jacket on a bench, and rolled up my sleeves.
"About damn time." Pavel leaned against a rack of assault rifles, meticulously cleaning a black M4. He looked up, voice rough. "Those bastards thought it was Valentine's Day—figured you'd be too busy plowing some woman to notice. Big mistake."
He tossed me the rifle, grinned. The scar running from his brow to his jaw twisted with the movement. "What, couldn't the sweet little thing at the manor keep you? Or did the foreign princess give you indigestion?"
Click.
I caught the rifle, checked the firing pin and chamber. Smooth. Perfect.
"Shut up." I grabbed extended mags from the ammo locker, started loading. "Vanessa's a pain in the ass. But she's useful."
Pavel whistled, pulled a tactical vest from a cabinet, and threw it at me. "You look like shit. Did Vanessa bully your little manor pet?"
I strapped on the vest and tightened the Velcro. "I didn't let her see Anthea."
"Smart. If Vanessa met Anthea... like throwing a rabbit to a viper. Wait—are you protecting your little mistress?"
I snorted, shoved a Glock into the thigh holster.
"I'm protecting the old man's precious future heir. Anthea's just a breeding tool."
"Sure. Keep telling yourself that." Pavel stepped closer, arms crossed, smirking.
"Then why'd you look like you wanted to skin me alive when I kissed her hand?
And I heard you replaced the entire medical team with women because she talked to a male doctor too long.
That doesn't sound like 'tool' behavior.
Sounds like a rabid dog guarding a bone. "
I paused.
After a few seconds of silence, I looked up. Eyes dark. "I don't like people touching my things."
"Right, right. Whatever you say." Pavel shrugged, but his grin said he didn't buy it. "Still, you've got it good. Two women, total opposites. Which one do you like better?"
"They're both tools, Pavel." My voice was cold, emotionless. "One helps me run the drug trade. One gives me an heir. Tools don't have favorites. Just useful or useless."
"No wonder the Pakhan wanted someone to knock up fast. He's worried you'll never care about any woman and end the Thorne line." Pavel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So—"
"Stop asking questions if you still want revenge." I shot him a look, headed for the elevator.
Pavel's hand instinctively touched the vicious scar on his face—a gift from Tomaso three years ago during an ambush.
That night, Pavel ran out of bullets. Tomaso pinned him down and carved half his face open with a knife.
If I hadn't come back with reinforcements, that blade would've gone into Pavel's gut.
Since then, Pavel swore he'd chop Tomaso into pieces himself.
"It's Valentine's Day. No roses, but we can send Tomaso's crew some bullets and grenades as gifts." Pavel laughed—bloodthirsty, excited.
"That's why I'm bringing you." I watched the elevator doors slide shut, our armed reflections staring back—ready to kill.
I touched my lips. Vanessa's kiss still lingered—foul, metallic. But suddenly, I wondered what Anthea's mouth would taste like. Those clean, innocent lips that always trembled with fear.
The thought lasted a second. I shoved it down deep.
The doors opened. Cold wind hit my face, sharp and biting. Outside, the night was black. Bratva soldiers waited, armed and ready.
Time to kill.