69. Wynter
Wynter
H appiness started with letter B and ended with letter O.
We spent two days in his bedroom. We fucked, kissed, fucked again until I was so sore, it hurt to walk. Best damn honeymoon ever.
I didn’t need Paris. Nor Venice.
As long as I had this man with me, I floated. He was my entire world.
And when he gave me my wedding present, I choked up and started crying. He bought me an ice rink. My own ice rink.
“I didn’t get you anything,” I grumbled softly.
“You are my gift,” he drawled, then pressed his face between my legs and I just about burned like a star.
I had made so many promises over the last two days. Never leave him. Always trust him. Never let another man touch me. Always wear his ring.
There was one thing we never talked about. Other women he might have had over the last nine months and other men he believed I had. It was as if both of us were scared of what it would do to us.
The past no longer mattered. Only the future.
He was all mine, and I was all his.
I was so happy, I feared something else was bound to happen.
I blow dried my hair, wearing only another set of pink undergarments. I sauntered into our shared walk-in closet, digging for something to wear. We were meeting Mom, Priest, and his father.
My mother’s boyfriend. Or something like that.
I’d just think of him as Bas’ uncle. Mom having a boyfriend was a foreign concept I couldn’t quite grasp.
Then this afternoon, we’d attend the funeral of Gio DiLustro. I’d rather not, but the etiquette required it. Especially since Bas would officially be taking his place in the Syndicate as the head of New York.
A sharp sting on my ass had me spinning around to come face-to-face with my husband.
“Bas!” I exclaimed undignified, but failed because a big smile played on my lips.
“You can’t walk around half naked and expect me not to get a boner,” he growled as he picked me up and tossed me on the bed.
I laughed, pulling him down with me. The moment his weight settled on me, I released a sigh. I spread my thighs and pressed against his erection.
“Tell me what you want,” he growled, his breath hot in my ear.
“You,” I breathed out. “Inside me.”
* * *
“You two are a whole hour late,” Priest grumbled as we approached the table.
I noted my shoe was unbuckled. My step faltered. These were the shoes he bought me nine months ago and I didn’t want them ruined. Just as I was going to lower down, Bas beat me to it.
“Let me,” he murmured, his fingers skimming over the back of my ankle and sending goosebumps over my skin.
A round of gasps and wows echoed but all I could do was stare at him. I breathed this man. I felt safe with this man. He killed his father to keep me safe. Well, technically Sasha gave him the last blow but Bas made him suffer first.
Bliss hummed through every inch of my body as I watched him buckle the strap and then stand up to his full height. Without him, life was a painfully slow death.
“Why can't you do this for me?” An unfamiliar voice had me turning my head just in time to see a woman smack her date on his chest and then turn to watch my husband with hearts in her eyes.
I slipped my hand into Basilio’s. It might have been a silly move, but I wanted the whole world to see he was mine.
“Come on, you two,” Basilio’s uncle called out to us.
Squeezing my hand in comfort, Bas ignored everyone and bent his head to press a kiss on my lips.
“Don’t be jealous,” he murmured against my lips. “You’re the only one for me.”
My lips curved into a soft smile and my heart swelled, I feared it’d explode from these feelings that boomed inside me.
We strode towards the table where Mom, Priest, and his father sat at Eleven Madison Park restaurant on Madison Avenue in the heart of New York City.
They secured a window seat that overlooked Madison Square Park.
The street outside was busy with pedestrians, despite it being a chilly day.
The beautiful weather drew the people out, eagerly anticipating spring.
“What the hell were you two doing?” Priest added.
I blushed crimson, avoiding looking his way. I feared if he saw my eyes, he’d know exactly what we were doing.
Bas just shrugged his shoulders. “Been busy.”
“They’re newlyweds,” Bas’ uncle defended us. “Let Bas enjoy his honeymoon.”
“Hi, Mom.” I went around the table and hugged her. “Are you okay?”
She pulled away to look at me. She looked beautiful, wearing a light green sweater and white jeans combined with a pair of white flats. Her hair was up in a bun and for the first time in my life, she didn’t seem to have ghosts lurking in her eyes.
Taking both my cheeks between her palms, she held my head firmly. “Next time, you run. Don’t try and save me.” I shook my head at her words. “I was scared he’d take you too. That I wouldn’t have survived.”
“You're my mom,” I whispered. “I love you. Of course, I’ll always save you.”
She shook her head, sadness crossing her expression.
“You might not think so after today,” she answered enigmatically.
Priest offered a terse nod and Bas’ uncle extended his hand. “We never officially met. I’m Franco DiLustro.”
He wore a three-piece-suit and so did Priest, both ready to attend Gio’s funeral. I wore a simple black dress that reached to my knees with black shoes.
“Wynter,” I murmured, accepting his hand hesitantly. “How is your head?’
A dark expression passed his face. “It’s good, thank you.”
Unsure what else I could say to him, I offered a tight smile and took the seat Bas pulled out for me. Once we all sat down, the waiter showed up and took Bas’ and my order.
With the waiter gone, it was Franco who broke the uncomfortable silence.
“I hear you play poker,” he drawled.
I shifted uncomfortably, my eyes looked to Priest. “Yes,” I muttered, wondering how much Franco knew.
“You got yourself a good game at Royally Lucky,” he continued. Well, it seemed he knew a lot.
“Star beats my father at poker and chess,” Mom chimed in. “She’s really good.”
“Sometimes,” I murmured.
The waiter came back and placed my caramel mocha in front of me. I wrapped my fingers around my cup, my shoulders slightly tense.
“Going for calories already, huh?” Mom teased.
I chuckled uncomfortably. “Figured I could enjoy all the stuff I’ve been craving.”
Bas’ hand came to my leg under the table and squeezed in re-assurance. “She earned it,” he told mom.
“Fuck yeah,” Priest agreed, shooting a slightly disapproving look my mother’s way. “Two times Olympic gold medalist, she can eat and drink whatever she wants.”
“Watch it, son,” his father countered. “Show respect.”
“How are you feeling, Star?” Mom asked. “I got inquiries for interviews from a few of your sponsors.”
I shook my head. “I told you, Mom. No more competing for me.” I glanced at Bas and he nodded.
“Basilio bought me a wedding present. An ice rink. I want to clean it up, rename it, and maybe coach.” I clenched my fingers and Bas’ fingers interlocked with mine, his thumb brushing softly against my palm.
I found the move to be soothing. “If you want, we could coach together. Not sure if you’re staying in New York or-”
Mom and Franco shared a glance and the smile that man gave her told me he loved her. I didn’t know their full story but I was happy for my mom. She finally got her happiness. It was only fair.
“Well, I’m thinking about moving to Chicago,” she beamed.
I grinned. “Chicago is good,” I agreed. “Closer than California.”
And she won’t be alone.
“You’ll come to visit?” she asked.
Bas and I shared a glance, and he nodded. “We’ll visit often. You have to visit us too.”
Priest huffed a frustrated breath. “Why don’t we tell Wyn and Bas the information you told me?”
Priest was agitated. It was evident in his tense shoulders and the way he shook his head in disgust. I still haven’t come to terms with Priest being my brother. I had no idea how to behave, especially since Mom hadn’t said a word about it. Neither did Priest.
Mom’s heavy sigh shifted the air between the five of us and I couldn’t help tensing again.
“Remember what I told you about a baby I lost?” I nodded, swallowing hard. “Well, Priest… Christian, he’s your half-brother.”
“Huh?”
“He’s-”
I waved my hand. “Yes, I knew that. Basilio told me after Priest ran a DNA test.” Confusion marred Mom’s face and I turned to Priest. “Your real name is Christian?”
He just shrugged. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t,” I promised. This felt slightly awkward. I felt like this wasn’t the bomb about to be dropped.
I turned to my mom who was watching Priest with a longing in her eyes. I didn’t understand her history.
“Mom,” I whispered, and her eyes came back to me. “Why did you tell me you lost the baby?”
Mom blinked, then blinked again. “I didn’t tell you everything, Star.
” I stilled, waiting for her to tell me whatever else she had to get off her chest. “My grandmother, your great-grandmother went mad when she lost her daughter. Her husband, the Pakhan, declared war on the Brennan’s and swore to kidnap every descendant of the Volkov family from them. ”
“What?” I breathed confused. “Why?’
“My mother, your grandmother, was an only child,” she explained.
“They were robbed of their heirs. So when I had Christian, I risked his life. Not to mention that Grandpa and my brother would have gone crazy. Franco was married and I-” Yeah, it wasn’t the ideal scenario but why leave her baby behind.
“Franco and I decided it was best to hide Christian. It was the safest option. Then I returned to New York and eventually married your father. When Gio…” Her eyes flitted towards my husband and this time, I squeezed his hand in comfort.
“When Gio attacked and killed your father, a perfect opportunity presented itself. Liam had me proclaimed dead, changed my identity, and the Pakhan stopped hunting. But nine months ago, Gio alerted them to you, Wynter. They don’t know about Christian, but they’re coming for you. ”
Bas growled next to me. “Let them fucking try.”