30. Mikhail
Mikhail
Yulian rubs his head and glares at me from his seat. Alexei and Kelly sit next to him, Lev beside them. They all showed up because apparently we need to decide who’s taking over now that our father is unfortunately dead.
It’s not going to be me. Fuck that. I’ll end up bald like Lev from the stress, and I happen to like my hair, thank you very much. Even though it’s buzzed, but that’s only because Daniil likes the texture when he runs his fingers through it.
I’m going stir crazy being stuck at home, and I painted our bedroom purple for Daniil yesterday. Spent hours doing it, made sure the coverage was perfect, no streaks or uneven patches.
He was so happy when he came back from the physical therapist. His whole face lit up, and he dragged me in there just to stand in the middle of the room and stare at the walls. He kept smiling at me like I’d given him something incredible instead of just slapping some paint on drywall.
He’s been going to PT a few times a week for the past two weeks now. He’s getting stronger, moving better, eating normally again.
He lost so much weight after the shooting that his clothes hung off him, and I could see his ribs when he changed shirts. But he’s gaining it back slowly. He can walk without getting winded now, can lift things without wincing, can shower without needing help. That’s progress.
We’ve both been seeing the specialist Daniil found. Dr. Reyes, some woman who works with people who’ve been through the kind of hell we have. She doesn’t push too hard, and she lets me pace around her office when I can’t sit still, which helps more than I thought it would.
He’s been opening up in sessions, writing down his thoughts and handing them to her since he can’t talk to her.
I’ve been trying to listen when she explains how trauma works, how it affects people differently, how our brains process fucked-up experiences.
Trying being the key word here. My brain doesn’t exactly cooperate with sitting still and absorbing information, but I’m making an effort.
I think that counts as personal growth or whatever.
As for me outside of therapy, I don’t know. I’m taking it day by day.
Some days are better than others. Some days I wake up and feel okay, and other days I wake up and want to tear my own skin off because everything feels wrong.
I’m not very good at talking about my feelings. I’m good at asking Daniil about his, I guess, but expressing how I feel? Not my thing. I’m an expert at pretending to be okay. That’s just how I am. I bulldoze my way through life and deal with the consequences later.
The house has been good for us though.
We’ve been cooking together, trying out recipes that Daniil finds online. He’s terrible at following instructions and always adds random things into our food, but it usually turns out okay. We smoke weed on the back porch at night and watch the trees move in the wind.
Calder comes by sometimes to check on us. He brings Tank and lets that little demon waddle around the house. Alexei and Kelly visited last week and brought groceries, which was nice even though Alexei spent the whole time talking about how much he wants to murder someone who works for Kelly.
Everyone is here, sitting tensely. The whole dysfunctional crew. Lev, Yulian, Alexei, Kelly, me, and Daniil. It feels like we’re playing Russian roulette to see who will speak first because all of these idiots have been sitting here in silence for way too long.
“I don’t want to take over,” Lev says suddenly.
We all turn to glare his way. Daniil’s grip on my hand tightens, and he huffs out a laugh next to me.
I mean, we need to decide one way or another. Someone has to do it.
Alexei shrugs. “Not me either. I’d just murder all the potential clients, and that would be very bad for business.”
Kelly elbows him hard. “He’s right, don’t make him do it. I’m begging you.”
“Well, I’m not doing it,” I say, glancing at all of them. “I don’t want it.”
“Me neither,” Yulian adds.
Daniil shakes his head too.
Well, that’s just great. Nobody wants to take over the family operations that our family has spent decades building.
“Okay, then what do we do?” Lev asks, running a hand over his head. “Because Mama doesn’t want it either. She made that very clear.”
“Whoever draws the shortest stick loses and takes over,” Yulian says.
“Oh god. That’s a terrible idea,” Kelly says, immediately wincing.
“Fine, whatever,” I say, standing up and walking over to the kitchen. I grab a handful of wooden skewers from the drawer and snap them into different lengths. Five of them. One short, four long.
“This is the worst idea in the world,” I hear Lev muttering as I walk back.
I hold the skewers in my fist so only the tops are showing, all the same length visible. “Alright, assholes. Draw.”
Everyone stands up and circles around me, the tension thick enough to choke on.
They all grab their sticks at once, keeping their fists clenched tight.
I’m left holding the last one.
We all pull them out at the same time.
“Son of a bitch!” Yulian snaps and throws his stick to the ground. “Fuck me. I don’t want this. Why the hell should I take over? I like my life the way it is. I’m not cut out for running the whole operation.”
“Well, you lost, so all of you can leave now. I have better things to do,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I don’t want it.”
“Nobody wanted it,” Lev says. “That’s why we did that.”
“This is bullshit,” Yulian snaps.
He’s the right choice because he’s smart and people actually like him for some reason.
He knows how to handle clients and make deals that benefit us while the other side thinks they won.
He’s good at strategy, at playing the long game, at all the things running this empire needs.
The only problem is that he’s batshit crazy and has zero concept of appropriate behavior.
“You’ll be fine,” Alexei says flatly. “Stop fucking whining.”
“I’m leaving,” Yulian announces, already heading for the door. “This is the worst day of my life,” he says, then the door slams a second later.
Alexei and Kelly exchange a look.
“We’re out too,” Alexei says, and Lev follows them toward the door. Kelly waves at us as they leave, the door clicking shut behind them.
That leaves me and Daniil, who huffs out a laugh and grins at me.
“I’m so relieved,” I say.
“Da. It’s for the best anyway. He’ll be good at it once he stops complaining.”
“Come here.”
I tug him toward the couch and pull him down with me. He comes willingly, and my arms wrap around him tight. I kiss the top of his head and breathe him in. Fuck, I love him so much it hurts.
His mouth comes to mine, and he makes this quiet sound, almost a whimper, and my restraint snaps completely.
I deepen the kiss, threading one hand into his hair and gripping tight.
The soft strands tangle around my fingers as I hold him exactly where I want him, angling his head so I can kiss him deeper.
I trace his bottom lip with my tongue, and he parts for me instantly.
Our tongues slide together, and the taste of him overwhelms everything else.
I stroke against his tongue, and he responds with careful movements that make heat flash through me, settling low in my gut and spreading outward until my entire body feels like it’s on fire.
We’re breathing hard between kisses, desperate for air but unable to stop long enough to actually get it.
Every movement of his tongue against mine sends pleasure radiating through my body, making my skin feel too tight.
I tilt his head more, kiss him fiercer, and his fingers dig into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
His mouth is incredible. Warm and yielding and responsive, and I can’t stop, can’t get enough of him, can’t think past the need to taste every inch of him.
I devour him thoroughly, tasting every inch of his mouth.
When I suck on his tongue, he gasps against my mouth and melts further into me, making these quiet, needy sounds that are completely unraveling me from the inside out.
I pull him closer, one hand sliding down to grip his hip, fingers digging into the bone there. He shifts against me, and the friction makes me groan into his mouth.
He pulls away and shoves at my pants, pushing them down my hips. His eyes are dark and hungry as he positions himself over me, straddling my hips. He reaches back and slowly pulls a plug out of himself, and the sight makes my cock twitch hard against my stomach.
“You prepped for me?” I ask, surprised.
“Mm.”
I smack his ass before standing up from the couch and kicking off my pants completely. I pull him by the hand toward the bedroom. This is the first time we’re doing this since everything went down, and I’m not sending either of us back to the hospital no matter how much he tempts me.
I gesture at the mattress. “Get down on your left side.”
He bites his lip and climbs onto the bed, settling on his side and pushing his ass out for me. I lean down and grab the lube from the dresser, slicking up my cock before coming up behind him. I press against his back and position myself at his entrance.
“Please stop taking so long.”
Rolling my eyes, I give his ass another smack.
He whimpers and pushes back against me, impatient as always.
I position myself at his rim and start pushing in carefully, his ass is filled with lube and already ready for me from the plug.
My hand grips his hip to steady us both.
He pushes back onto my cock before I’m even halfway in, and when I finally bottom out, he moans low and desperate. “You feel so good.”