Chapter 40 Mikhail
MIKHAIL
The conference room reeks of tension and expensive cologne.
I lean back in my chair at the head of the table, studying the faces of the men who’ve served me for years.
Some look nervous.
Others defiant.
All of them are wondering if they backed the right horse when Marco made his play.
“Gentlemen.” My voice cuts through the murmured conversations. “Let’s be clear about where we stand. Marco’s betrayal has been dealt with. Anyone who stood with him has been dealt with. What remains is rebuilding what he tried to destroy.”
Viktor shifts in his seat, his scarred knuckles white as he grips the armrest. “Pakhan, the families are restless. They see weakness—”
“They see transition.” I interrupt him with a look that makes him swallow his next words. “Marco was my enforcer for years. His betrayal shook the foundation. But foundations can be rebuilt stronger than before.”
I stand, placing my palms flat on the polished mahogany. “I’m appointing Tony Moretti as my new head enforcer.”
The room erupts. Voices overlap, some angry, others shocked. I let them vent for exactly ten seconds before I slam my fist on the table hard enough to rattle the water glasses.
“Enough.” The single word silences them. “Tony has proven his loyalty. He fought beside me against Lorenzo. He took a bullet meant for his sister—my wife. He understands what it means to protect family, and that’s what we are. Family.”
I meet each man’s gaze in turn. “Anyone who has a problem with this decision can leave now. The door is open. But understand that if you walk out, you don’t come back.”
No one moves.
“Good.” I straighten my tie, suddenly exhausted. “Viktor, you’ll work with Tony on the transition. I want a full security review by the end of the week. Dmitri, handle the shipment schedules. And someone find out who’s been spreading rumors about our operations to the Castellanos.”
The meeting drags on for another hour.
Supply chain issues.
Territory disputes.
Money laundering concerns.
All the problems of rebuilding what I had after I walked away, to ensure our safety and the legitimate businesses thrive.
My mind keeps drifting to Sophia, alone in our fortress of a compound, probably pacing the bedroom or staring out the window with that look of quiet desperation she thinks I don’t notice.
I’ve been an ass. I know it.
The pregnancy complications terrified me so completely that I’ve surrounded her in bubble wrap and locked her away from the world. From me.
Tonight, I’ll make it right.
I’ll go home, hold her, remind her why we fell in love in the first place.
Tomorrow I can worry about the empire.
Tonight belongs to us.
Finally, mercifully, the meeting ends. I dismiss them with a wave and catch Tony’s arm as he stands to leave.
“Walk with me,” I say.
We move through the building in silence, past the legitimate business fronts and into the private areas where real work happens.
Tony’s recovered well from his gunshot wound, though I notice he still favors his left side slightly.
“You understand what this position means?” I ask as we reach my office.
“I understand you’re trusting me with your life.” Tony’s green eyes—so like Sophia’s in every other way than color—meet mine steadily. “And my sister’s life. I won’t let you down.”
“It’s more than that.” I pour two glasses of whiskey and hand him one. “As my enforcer, you’ll see things. Do things. There’s no going back from some of the choices you’ll have to make.”
He takes a long drink. “I’ve already made my choice.
When Lorenzo had me, when he filled my head with lies about you killing my father, I thought I knew who the enemy was.
But Sophia never gave up on me. She risked everything to bring me back.
And you—” He pauses, choosing his words carefully.
“You could have killed me. Should have killed me. But you gave me a chance to remember who I really am.”
“Sophia would never have forgiven me if I’d killed you.”
“Maybe.” A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “But you didn’t do it for her. You did it because you saw something in me worth saving. That’s the kind of leader I want to follow.”
The words settle something in my chest I didn’t know was unsettled. “Your sister is the best thing that ever happened to me. Even when I was at my worst, when I kidnapped her and forced her into this life, she saw something in me worth saving too.”
“She has a gift for that.” Tony finishes his drink. “Seeing the good in broken things.”
“I need to get home to her.” I check my watch. Nearly eleven o’clock. “She’s been alone too much lately.”
“Go.” Tony sets down his glass. “I’ll handle things here.”
The drive to the compound feels endless.
My fingers drum against the steering wheel as I navigate the city streets, my mind already racing ahead.
The guards at the gate nod as I pass through.
The house is quiet when I enter, most of the staff already retired for the evening.
I take the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding with anticipation.
Our bedroom door is slightly ajar.
I push it open slowly, not wanting to startle her.
Sophia lies curled on her side in our bed, one hand tucked under her cheek, her black hair spread across the pillow like silk.
The soft lamplight catches the gentle swell of her belly beneath the thin nightgown.
She’s so beautiful it makes my chest ache.
I strip off my jacket and tie, toeing off my shoes as quietly as possible.
My shirt and pants follow.
When I’m down to my boxers, I slide onto the bed beside her, careful not to jostle her awake too quickly.
She stirs slightly, making a small sound in her sleep.
I press a kiss to her shoulder, then another to the curve of her neck.
My hand slides over her hip, feeling the warmth of her skin through the silk.
“Mikhail?” Her voice is drowsy, confused.
“Shh.” I kiss her again, my lips trailing down her spine. “I’m here, moya lyubov. I’m here.”
My hands are gentle as I ease her nightgown up, exposing the smooth expanse of her thighs.
She shifts onto her back, her blue eyes still heavy with sleep but warming as she realizes my intention.
“You’re home,” she whispers, her fingers threading through my hair.
“I’m home.” I settle between her legs, pressing kisses to her inner thighs. “And I’m going to show you how much I missed you.”
I take my time, worshipping her with my mouth until she’s gasping my name and trembling beneath me.
When I finally slide inside her, it’s slow and deep, savoring every sensation.
This isn’t about possession or dominance.
This is about connection.
About reminding us both why we fight so hard to stay together.
We move in perfect synchronization, our bodies remembering what our minds sometimes forget—that we belong to each other completely.
Her nails dig into my shoulders as she climaxes, and I follow moments later, burying my face in her neck as pleasure crashes through me.
Afterward, I hold her close, our hearts beating in tandem.
She traces lazy patterns on my chest, her breathing gradually evening out.
“I love you,” I murmur into her hair.
“I love you too.” Her voice is already fading, exhaustion pulling her back under.
Within minutes, she’s asleep again, her body relaxed and trusting in my arms.
I stay awake a while longer, just holding her, memorizing the feel of her against me.
Eventually, I ease out of bed and pull on my pants.
My mind is too active for sleep, and I have paperwork that needs attention.
I press one more kiss to her forehead before heading downstairs to my office.
The house is silent as I make my way through the darkened hallways.
I’m thinking about the security review, about Tony’s transition into his new role, about the shipment schedules that need—
I stop dead in the doorway to the dining room.
Candles.
At least two dozen of them, now burned down to stubs, wax pooled on the elegant holders.
The table is set for two with our best China, crystal wine glasses catching the moonlight streaming through the windows.
Covered dishes sit in the center, the food inside long since gone cold.
My stomach drops.
She’d done this.
Sophia had set up a romantic dinner for us.
She’d probably spent hours planning it, coordinating with Elena, choosing the menu, lighting the candles. Waiting for me.
And I’d missed it completely.
I move closer, my hand hovering over one of the plates. There’s a small card propped against my wine glass.
My fingers shake slightly as I pick it up.
I miss you. I miss us. Please come home to me tonight. —S
The words hit me like a physical blow.
While I’d been in that conference room, dealing with business that could have waited, she’d been here.
Alone.
Hoping I’d notice.
Hoping I’d choose her over the empire for once.
I sink into one of the chairs, the card still clutched in my hand.
The candles have burned themselves out.
The food is ruined.
And upstairs, my wife sleeps, probably thinking I didn’t care enough to even acknowledge her effort.
I’d made love to her, yes.
But I’d missed the point entirely.
She didn’t just need my body.
She needed my presence.
My attention.
My time.
And I’d failed her again.