31. Vlad
CHAPTER 31
VLAD
Nerves on edge, I stand by the window, gazing out at the sparkling sea of city lights that stretch to the distant horizon and blur into the darkness of the night. The pristine starched collar of my white shirt presses against my neck as I shift my broad shoulders. I reach up and undo the two top buttons, needing some room to breathe.
I should be there. With him.
But showing up in front of Tony as Nico's sidekick would make me look weak. And I can't have anyone think that. Think that Vlad Solovey has a weakness. Not when the war is brewing on the horizon.
It would also make him seem weak too.
Behind me, the lock clicks softly and I sense a familiar presence enter the room before I hear his footsteps. His reflection flashes in the window in front of me. Like a mirage of an oasis in the withered desert.
His Ferragamo loafers pad softly across the carpeted floor as he strides over to me. His normally overconfident gait is riddled with tension and I feel the storm cloud of his anger swirl through the room before I even turn to face him.
"It was a fucking disaster," he growls, coming to stand close behind me, his breath hot on my ear. The fruity, grassy, winelike scent of him fills my nostrils. "That geriatric bastardo cut me off completely because Salvatore told him about us before I could do anything."
I told you so.
But I don't say it out loud. I don't want to hurt him even more.
Instead, I keep my gaze fixed on the glowing landscape, the neon signs pulsing like a stuttering heartbeat. I had already anticipated this move from that conniving snake Salvatore. I knew involving Vartan into helping us to arrange the meeting was a crapshoot.
"And your cousin?" I ask.
"He's cut off too," he replies evenly. "One less rival to contend with… At least for now."
"I don't think he'll stop here," I tell him honestly.
Nico exhales sharply through his nose and wraps his toned arms around my torso from behind, resting his jaw on my shoulder. The heat of his body seeps through the cotton of my shirt. I can feel his heart hammering against my back, the wild rhythm betraying his inner turmoil beneath the expensive Brioni suit.
We stand like that for several long moments, silently sharing this new burden, breathing in sync while the city keeps on living on below, ignorant and uncaring of the machinations of men like us. Two solitary islands, temporarily bridged.
Finally, I pivot in his embrace to face him directly, our noses nearly brushing. I search his blue eyes, noticing the tightness around them, the unspoken distress hiding in their depths. An entire conversation passes between us in that loaded gaze, no words necessary. An understanding of our mutual isolation.
"It was a fucking shit show," Nico whispers. "The entire city will know by morning." His voice trembles with barely suppressed emotions.
I nod slowly. "I'm fine with it. How about you? Are you fine with it?" I cup his face in my hands, thumbs brushing his cheekbones.
"I'm tired of this archaic bullshit," he finally says. "How can loving another man be considered weakness, when it's anything but. Especially for a man in my position. It takes fucking guts to go against the world." The fire in his eyes burns bright again.
Pride swells within me. This man has so much to lose, yet he doesn't back down.
"I'd say you're a coward if you don't have the guts to love who you truly want just because someone tells you you are not allowed to." I wish for a moment, I had the strength to do what Nico did—go against my family, my father. Tell Yuri to shove it. But I didn't. And now I'm going to do everything I can to make the one who did happy.
"Did I ever tell you how grateful I am for all that you've done for me?" he murmurs, tilting his head slightly into my touch and kissing my hand.
I press my lips to his cheek, a brief, reassuring contact. "I don't think you did but you don't ever have to."
Another endless moment passes between us. And I understand talking business seems coldhearted but we have to. We can't afford to relax for long. Decisions still need to be made.
"Nico, listen," I start. "We must think it through." My voice hardens. "The shipment... it is too risky to keep it now."
Nico frowns. "That's true. Vartan can become a problem for both of us if we don't handle it." His jaw clenches, showing his frustration. "Damn it, Vlad, I hate this! I hate having to choose between what's right and what's safe!"
A hand on his chin, I force him to meet my gaze. "I know, Nico. I understand better than anyone. Trust me. But it's not mine. It belongs to your family, so it's up to you. What do you want to do?"
"With Sal on the loose, I don't want to risk it. He's reckless enough to start messing with the network. Two days. Let's see what he does first."
"Then it's decided. We keep the shipment for two days and after we reassess the situation."
Nico's gaze drifts away. "There's something else," he says eventually, his voice low and tight. "Tony's new security detail. I saw him at the restaurant. The Sicilian…"
Nico's words trails off, but the unease in his tone speaks volumes. I study his face—the curve of his brow, the clenched teeth.
"Who is this Sicilian?" I ask carefully, knowing full well when an Italian family commissions someone from Sicily, it can't be good.
"I don't like it, Vlad. The way he watched, the way he moved. Like a viper. He's more than just added muscle. It's a message."
I step closer, my hand coming to rest on Nico's shoulder, a reassuring anchor. "We'll handle it. I'll have my men keep eyes on him at all times. He won't make a move without us knowing."
The worry doesn't fade from Nico's eyes. "You don't understand, Vlad. These people are born and bred for this life. Trained killers from the cradle. Loyalty to the family above all else in exchange for being allowed to breathe. He won't hesitate. Won't feel a damn thing putting a bullet between your eyes if he's ordered to."
A chill slithers down my spine. I know people like this. Yuri's army. Shtyk's one of soldiers. The only difference between him and Nico's Sicilian is that Shtyk came to Yuri too late. He's greedy and vindictive and has fucking ambitions.
"We'll just have to be smarter," I supply. "Anticipate every angle. And if it comes to it..." I let the unspoken threat linger. The rest is up to Nico.
He shakes his head, a rueful smile playing at his lips. "Always the protector." His hand comes up to my head and he dips his fingers into my hair, brushing the strands back. "My Vlad."
The way he utters my name, the ache of longing in his voice, stirs that primal itch in me. I skim my fingers of the soft skin on his face, capturing his lower lip. He turns slightly and grabs my thumb between his teeth. A shudder ripples through me as he swirls my tongue around the digit, sucking lightly.
Need erupts between us, a living current. Our mouths crash together, the kiss deep and hungry and desperate. Nico's fingers tangle in my hair, tugging me closer as if he wants to crawl inside my skin.
We rut against each other, panting into the kiss. I can feel the hard length of him grinding against my thigh, my own arousal pulsing in response. Nico consumes my senses—the taste of him, the musk of his skin, the needy little sounds spilling from his lips as I shove another finger into his mouth.
I'm lost in him, drowning, and I never want to resurface. Never want to go back to reality.
There's no finesse in our undressing, just a frenzied tangle of hands and fabric until we stand before each other, naked and aching. We kiss, this time with bite, cocks brushing, heat burning through every nerve.
Euphoria of physical intimacy takes over and I find myself placing my hands on him, spinning him furiously. A sound echoes. A slap of the taut body hitting the wall. Ragged breathing. Both palms on his upper back, I press him up to the surface. My cock is throbbing in the crease of his ass as I rub myself against him. He shudders, his head thrown back in surrender. He arches instinctively, offering himself to me.
"Tell me you want this," I grit out. "Tell me you want my cock, detka ."
"Only under one condition."
"You think you're in the position to bargain right now?" I chuckle.
"No condom," he breathes out.
I've never been so turned on in my life. I dart over to the bedside table, yank the drawer open, and grab the lube, my hands working overtime to get some on my fingers. As I coat them, I turn back to Nico and position myself at his entrance. Then I slip my thumb over his hole—up and down. Draw a circle around that tight ring of muscle. Press my index finger inside, into him, gently, past the knuckle. As far it goes. A little friction. In and out. He reacts instantly. A broken moan escapes his throat. He's hot and lubricated enough and my dick demands entry.
"Fuck, baby. Just take me already," Nico mutters.
I kiss his shoulder. The side of his face pressed to the wall, his back curved, the angle just right for better access. With a groan, I grab at his ass cheeks, spreading them. Then I plunge inside, sheathing myself inch by inch in the tight, clenching heat.
"I'm sorry..." I apologize, although I'm not sure for what—the roughness of my entry or the fact that I can't stop. I want to stuff my cock into him as deep as possible. There's no barrier between us anymore. No secrets. His body yields to me, opening like a flower.
I push in harder.
"Mmm..." Nico moans louder. The sound vibrates through his chest, seductive. His arms are stretched out above his head, bent slightly at the elbows. "Oh God! Right there."
I drive some more.
His hole clamps around me like a vice, squeezing, sucking me in deeper. Fuck.
I'm inside him, buried to the hilt, and I stay there, panting for a second, trying to recover from the bliss of penetration. His ass cheeks are sweaty against my stomach, sweaty and perfectly round. He's got a beautiful ass. And I own it.
This man… He feels so damn perfect around me—it's like coming home. Like finding that missing piece of the jigsaw puzzle I actually didn't know was missing.
"You like that?" I ask as I start moving.
"Too slow, caro ," he gasps. "Faster."
I do as he says, pick up the pace, pounding into him, mindless of everything but pleasure.
"Faster, faster," he demands. "Let me feel you." His hole contracts around my cock when I hit his prostate. He cries out, words turning into a blur of sounds. And then I fuck him for real. Fuck him hard, fuck him into ruin, fuck him until we are both a screaming, wet mess.
With a growl, I reach around and grip his dick, stroking him in time with my thrusts. Nico's hips buck into my grip. The sensation of him tightening around me while he spasms in my fist is almost too much to bear.
"You're too fucking sexy like this, Nico, with my cock stuffing your ass," I growl through gritted teeth, licking his ear. "Goddamned masterpiece."
His body tenses under mine and I realize I'm close and I have no intention of holding back either.
"Fuck," I grind out. "I'm... I'm... ugh…"
The world darkens around the edges as I'm consumed by the most powerful orgasm of my life. With a strangled yell, I spill inside him as he unravels around me. With a final thrust, I come, emptying myself into him as Nico's name leaves my lips in a hoarse groan. My face in the crook of his neck muffles my shout as ecstasy tears through me, whiting out my vision. His own release spills over my fingers and paints the wall.
He collapses against it while I collapse against him. We are spent and sated with legs cramping and I don't want to separate just yet.
"How does it feel? My cum in your asshole?" I murmur.
"How does it feel to be able to fuck that perfect ass?" he asks in between tiny moans.
"Feels terrific, Romeo."
"Right back at you, Hot Shot."
A second passes.
"Let's just stay like this for a moment longer," he asks. "Your cock loves me. And I love it too."
All I can do is laugh stupidly as this comment and shower him with kisses.
* * *
The bathroom mirror shows me a haunted man. I stare at my reflection, the shadowed hollows of my eyes, the hard lines etched into my face. The tattoo over my heart seems to beat with its own heartbeat.
Mama . Mamochka.
Her name is a wound that would never heal, a gaping void that even revenge can't fill. I know it but still, I keep on chasing him. Keep on chasing the animal who carried out my father's order. I'm not sure why after the best moment of my life—the wild sex with Nico followed by simple intimacy—I'm falling down this dark rabbit hole where I hate myself.
But the name and a few memories are all I have left of her, my mother. And this ink on my chest is a reminder. A promise. A promise that the people who cut her life short will be subjected to the same fate.
The phone vibrates against the marble countertop, jarring me from my musings. I snatch it up, glancing at the screen. Esteban.
I accept the call. "Tell me you have news." My voice is a low rasp in the hush of the bathroom, torn by all the screaming during the sex with Nico.
Esteban's reply crackles through the speaker, smooth and unruffled as ever. "We may have a lead on Shtyk's whereabouts. But I believe it's best you to come to Mexico to interrogate the informant yourself. He's a slippery one. My men have no luck."
Unease prickles down my spine. Mexico. The site of the last assassination attempt, the place where I'd almost lost my life. Could I really trust Esteban again not to betray me? Is he even on my side? What if he was behind the incident? Things are still unclear as to how the assassin got into his compound.
But the possibility of finally getting my hands on Shtyk, of avenging my mother's death, is too tempting to resist. I have to risk it. For her.
"I'll be there," I supply. "In the next two days." Pause. "But if this is another trap, Esteban..."
"I assure you, my friend," he replies, a cunning smile in his voice, "my home is safe. My family is staying over and there is no way in hell, anyone, even a fly gets in. I'll send the jet for you. Tomorrow."
"No need."
"Please allow me this. To show my trust in our relationship."
"Fine."
"Great. I'll start making arrangements. We are looking forward to seeing you again. And I promise, this time, you will have fun."
The call disconnects, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I catch another glimpse of myself in the mirror—naked, battle-scarred, ink etched into my skin like a roadmap of pain.
The man in the reflection gazes back, eyes burning with a hatred that can never be quenched. Not until Shtyk is dead at my feet and my mother's soul can finally rest.
I turn away, striding back into the bedroom. Back to Nico. I want to savor these last few hours with him, store up the memory of his touch to sustain me through the trials to come.
For once I board that plane, there would no turning back. Only the hunt. And the blood that would follow.
* * *
I slip into the bedroom, my senses still on edge from the call with Esteban. I'm unsettled by the fact that I may be getting close to Shtyk. Finally.
Darkness drapes over everything like a veil, interrupted only by the soft luminescence of the city lights seeping through half-open curtains. Nico lies sprawled on the bed—bare, vulnerable, an unspoken allure in his stance. He is face down, hugging the pillow. Each sinew and contour of his bronzed skin is apparent, begging to be touched. He has the body of someone who knows hard work, who knows to prepare for the worst.
The sheet has slunk down his back, just shy of his waistline, exposing the tempting curve of his hips.
I slide under, pressing my naked body against his, my hardened length seeking solace in between his toned thighs. I'm aroused just by looking at him. I don't need to fuck him. I just want to be able to feel him breathing.
I bury my face in his hair. His scent, a heady mix of sex and sweat and expensive cologne, envelops me like a drug.
I think this is better than oxygen.
Nico stirs, a sleepy moan escaping his lips. "I don't want you to go to Mexico."
"You heard?"
"Yes."
I inhale him. "Mmm, I didn't want to wake you." My hand caresses his warm skin, soothing the tension from his muscles. "The Arellanos have a new lead on Shtyk. But the man isn't talking."
Nico's next words chill me to the bone. "I'm coming with you."
I freeze, lifting my head to stare at him. "No, Nico. It's too dangerous. Besides, you need to be here. You have problems of your own."
"I don't care," he says stubbornly, turning to face me, his eyes blazing with defiance and I can see that defiance even in the low light. "I won't stay here and wonder if this is the last time I'll see you."
My stomach bottoms out and my chest tightens at his declaration. I swallow hard to try and will my voice to sound normal. "It's going to be fine." But I don't recognize myself as I speak. "I know better how to protect myself in that place if it comes to that. But the Arellanos reassured me that nothing will happen. Ivan will be there."
Nico releases a sharp exhale, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Sorry," I murmur, stroking his hair. "I don't want to worry you but I need to go. You understand why, right?"
He tips his chin, a small nod that tells me he'll go along with my decision but he doesn't like it one bit.
"I understand," he supplies quietly. "I won't stop you from doing what you think you need to do to lay your mother to rest, but trust me they don't care about vengeance. They are no longer in this world. What they do care is that we live our lives to the fullest, worthy lives. Lives filled with good things—" he kisses me then, gently, on the lips "—Like this." Pause. "This revenge you desire, it's making you reckless, Vlad."
"I can't breathe if I try to let go, Nico," he utters in a broken voice. "I tried before. I tried to forget. I can't. It's not for my mother. It's in her honor but for people who Shtyk has yet to kill, torture, and ruin. Because if he is not stopped, blood will keep on flowing and I'm tired. I'm tired of walking knee-deep in this river of red. I need to break the cycle once and for all, for all the families. For mine too."
It's silent for a while as he keeps looking at me with those hypnotic blue eyes. And suddenly, I imagine myself back in Russia, in my mother's family home just outside Saint Petersburg. It's winter. Late December. And the snow is still fresh and crisp and shiny, not marred by the dirt of time. Blanketing everything like a fluffy, sparkling white coat. And I'm on the lake, skates on, my legs wobbling from fighting the gravity, and as I look down at the translucent surface, I can see the water underneath the thick layer of ice. Dangerous, cold water that would drown me in seconds if the ice cracked.
" Ne perezhivai, Vladik ," my mother reassures beside me. Her warmth wraps around more than just my hand as she gently leads me away from the clear patch in the center. "The ice is strong this time of the year. Let's go get some pirozki first. Podkrepitsia nado zhe snachala. Na pustoi zeludok nikto ne kataetsia. " And there, out on the bank, my aunt Irina is cradling my little brother, waiting for us, cheeks all red from the frost, coat dusted by the white flakes.
And I get this strange feeling, this sensation in my gut that I've been doing it all wrong and this—the present with Nico—is my only chance at redemption. My only chance to erase the darkness from my life.
"I don't think you should go," he murmurs, touching my face, fingertips dancing along my jaw. "And I can't stop you, can I? But do you trust these people? The Arellanos?"
"As much as you can trust the cartel," I confess.
One last thing left to do , the voice in my head hisses. Kill Shtyk.
And as a payback-driven fool I am who has everything he needs in his arms right now, I fall into the temptation.