29. Kirill
Kirill
Ishower in my father’s bathroom so I don’t track his blood all over Iron Keep. When I finish, someone has laid out clothes for me on the vanity.
Hair wet and slicked back, I’m buttoning my cuffs when I step back into Papa’s bedroom. Ksenia is standing there looking down at our dead father.
Fuck. I didn’t want her to see his mutilated body. My murderous glare burns into Drago’s thick skull.
He holds up his hand. “She wanted to see him. I told her it was gruesome.”
“It had to be done, Ksenia.” I brace for an argument.
Crying. Screaming.
Nothing.
“It had to be done,” she repeats and then walks toward me in her elegant stride. “Pakhan.”
We share a smile. Here we are. Officially in charge.
“Nurse?” I ask over her shoulder.
“Let go,” Drago says. “I told her the old man coded and she’d get a check to pay out her contract. She’s one of us. Nothing to worry about.”
I nod. “I have to tell Sandrine.”
I leave my father’s wing and find her still in Violet’s bedroom, sitting in a chair with a sketchpad while our daughter sleeps.
She’s so focused she doesn’t see me stride up to her.
I look down and see she’s sketching snow angels.
I remember how she would sketch in one of my shirts.
Bare legs. Messy hair. My cum dripping from her.
For a second, I just look at her.
As if she feels me, Sandrine looks up. She frowns immediately seeing what happened on my face. On the outside, I don’t look any different from an hour ago. It’s the inside that’s different. And she could sense it.
“I thought you were going out for the night?” she asks.
I step back, feeling like I’ve invaded her space. “My father is dead.”
Her lips part slightly. “Oh, Kirill. I’m sorry. How? What happened?”
“He got what he deserved,” is all I say.
Lights flash through the window, and she stands to look into the courtyard below. “It’s the medical examiner,” she informs, pulling a drapery panel aside.
“They’re taking the body.” I move the curtain back.
As much as I would love to chop him the fuck up and feed him to stray dogs, the man has legitimate wealth that must pass to me. There must be a death certificate to probate his will and transfer holdings.
“I’ll be crowned in three weeks.” My voice sounds flat even to my own ears. “The Bratva moves quickly when a pakhan dies.”
Sandrine studies me carefully, like she’s trying to figure out whether I’m grieving.
I’m not.
“Ksenia will make sure you have what you need for the coronation,” I say, my gaze shifting to the woman who is both familiar and entirely unknown to me. Something quite unsettling. “You will be part of that ceremony as my queen.”
For a moment, the only sound is Violet’s ragged breathing through her mouth.
“Whatever you need from me, Kirill.” My wife stands tall. “I married you willingly. I must have understood what was expected of me.”
“You did,” I confirm, holding her gaze. Then I say the thing I know I shouldn’t. “I killed him.”
Her breath catches. “You… You did?”
I walk closer to her. Slowly, so I don’t frighten her. “He disrespected you. Called you a mistake. Said I ruined this family for you.”
Shock and confusion flicker across her face. Guilt, too. “Kirill. I never wanted to be—”
“I chose you. I’m still choosing you,” I interrupt roughly. “He was already dying, but I wanted him to know exactly why his reign ended.”
“Kirill,” she whispers again, softer this time.
I brace for fear. For disgust.
Instead, her hand comes up slowly to my jaw. My body reacts with a surge of lust from the gentleness of it.
“You loved me that much?” she asks softly.
The question guts me.
I grab her wrist and pull her against me hard enough to make her gasp. My mouth crashes into hers before I can answer properly. There are no words for this rush inside me.
Five years of obsession. Rage. Grief.
And now relief.
With her hands on my chest, I kiss her deeper, rougher, backing her against the wall. She groans against my mouth, and that nearly destroys what little control I have left.
Mine.
Every violent part of me settles when she melts into me like this.
My hand slides beneath her thigh instinctively, lifting her against me. Her pulse jumps wildly beneath my fingers. Her eyes are glassy when she looks at me. With kiss-swollen lips and confused desire all over her face.
“I have work to finish.” The air between us feels charged. “Will you come to my bed tonight?”
She visibly shudders. A hand clutched to her throat. After a glance at Violet, she smirks and says…
“Maybe.”