Chapter 30
Varvara
There is no pain or crying. Just the simple realisation that nothing has changed. Not really. Dad and Marika made their choices. I made mine.
Just because we have clashed over this stupid hard drive doesn’t mean anything has changed.
It’s a cold, hard reality, but it has clarity.
There is a soft knock at the door, and I cross over to open it. “Pyotr,” I say instantly, knowing it has to be him.
“Good evening, Miss Krestova.” He holds up a tray. “I brought food.”
“You are a prince among men,” I say, stepping back.
He smiles primly, pleased at my appreciation. He places the tray on the side table and lifts one of the silver domes. “I also brought chocolate.”
I nearly dive on it, elbowing him out of the way with a muttered apology.
“Fuck prince. You are the king,” I state, grabbing a giant bar of Cadbury’s Wholenut and ripping the wrapper open.
I eat the big bar as it is, foregoing breaking it into tiny squares out of a sense of politeness. We are way past that.
Pyotr blinks as I shovel the chocolate into my mouth. The sugar hits my system like a lightning strike, dulling the sharp edges of the night’s revelations. “Mr Voronov is still in his office,” he says, his tone carefully neutral.
“I know. He’s busy being a big, scary Bratva monster,” I swallow a mouthful of nuts and cocoa, feeling the weight of the house pressing in on me. “Thanks, Pyotr. Got any vodka?”
“Of course. I’ll be right back.” He bows his head and retreats, closing the door with a soft click.
I turn to the tray, finding a bowl of steaming pasta carbonara.
It’s rich, salty, and exactly what I need after two mouthfuls of chocolate.
I sit and pick the bowl up, shovelling the food into my mouth as the gears in my head grind.
The betrayal of my dad should hurt more, but it’s just cold. Everything I thought was solid has turned to liquid, draining away until the only thing left standing is Lev and the mark he carved into my skin.
Pyotr knocks again, and I mumble, “Come in.”
The door opens, and he produces a bottle of Beluga Noble and a cut crystal glass.
“Fancy,” I murmur as he pours out a shot. “Leave the bottle.”
“As you wish,” he says, backing out. “I will bring up some tea in an hour.”
I snort. “Thanks. But I have no intention of getting drunk.” Maybe.
Knocking back the first shot as the door closes, I pour a double and knock that back too. The liquid burns a path down my throat, settling in my gut alongside the pasta. My hands don’t shake. I’m past that. I look at the door, waiting for the monster to return.
When the handle turns, I’m ready. Lev walks in, his shirt is pulled out of his pants, and unbuttoned all the way down, revealing the ink on his chest. He looks at the bottle, then at me.
“Pyotr is efficient,” he says, picking it up and taking a big gulp.
“He’s a legend. What did my father say?”
Lev walks over and stands between my legs. He doesn’t touch me, but I feel his presence. “You said you didn’t want to know.”
Dammit. He has me there. “I did say that.”
“So, I’m not telling you jack shit.”
“Are you going to kill him?”
“I just said I’m not going to tell you.” He takes another gulp of vodka and swallows. “But if you really want to know, I’m not going to kill him.”
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “Why?”
“You don’t want to know. Remember?”
“You’re an arse.”
“And yet you are falling in love with me, and you can’t stop it.”
His blue eyes meet mine, and I reach to take the vodka bottle from him. I take a slow sip before I speak. “That is quite an assumption, Voronov.”
“Am I wrong?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you’re falling for me and don’t want to stop it.”
He doesn’t flinch. He steps even closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth of him through my shirt. His fingers slide into my hair, tugging just enough to make me tilt my head back.
He drops his hand to the opening of my shirt, his fingers brushing the raw skin of the letters he carved before he rips my shirt open, buttons popping off in every direction.
“You’ve ruined my focus and compromised my standing with the Pakhan.
You’ve forced me to bargain with a man I should’ve slaughtered on sight.
Do you think I’d do that for anyone else? ”
“I think you’re a psycho who can’t help himself.”
“Exactly.” He pulls me up from the chair, his hands going to my waist. He doesn’t wait for permission.
He never does. “I don’t fall for things, Varvara.
I claim them. I claim them where everyone can see.
” His eyes darken as he pulls my shirt off.
My tits that were barely holding it together as it was, bounce at the movement.
He never takes his eyes off them. He kneels, making me gasp as he undoes the button and zip on my jeans.
He pulls them slowly down my thighs, his fingers hooking in my underwear as well.
When they are down my ankles, he removes my boots and socks, discarding them so he can pull my jeans off.
I’m naked in front of him, and he buries his head between my legs, lapping at my clit as my hands go into his hair.
“Your cunt tastes like me,” he murmurs. “It will always taste like me, even when other men look at you and want to fuck you. Remember that.”
I arch my back, my fingers digging into his scalp. The friction is intense in the dark room. He doesn’t hold back. Lev focuses on me entirely. My legs tremble. I should feel small, exposed under his heavy gaze and the harsh light, but I don’t. I feel powerful.
“Fuck, Lev,” I gasp.
He doesn’t stop. His tongue flicks against my clit. His tongue is relentless. He knows exactly how to push me. I groan. The sound is raw. My thighs shake. He holds my hips. I am his mark. I am his property. I want the weight of it.
He looks up. His blue eyes are dark. “You’re coming for me, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I pant.
He goes back to work, nipping and tugging until I break on his face. My body jerks. I cry out. Lev catches my weight. He stands and lifts me. He carries me to the window and turns me so that my tits are pressed against the cold glass.
“Lev,” I whimper as I see the guards patrolling the courtyard.
“They are going to look up and see you. They are going to see every inch of you. Your tits, your cunt, and every inch in between, and they are going to see me fucking you. They are going to see you coming all over my dick and know that they will never have you. They can look, and all they will see is you writhing on my cock, begging me to make you come.”
“Lev,” I croak, feeling the heat of his words spark through my blood like wildfire.
He doesn’t give me a choice. He enters me from behind in one brutal, singular thrust that pins me to the glass.
I let out a sharp cry, my breath fogging the pane.
My tits flatten against the cold surface as I see the guards below.
One of them pauses, his head tilting toward the light of our window.
“Look at him,” Lev growls in my ear, one hand pressed to the pane beside my head, the other gripping my hip so hard his fingers will leave marks. “Watch him realise he’s nothing. Watch him see my cock inside you.”
He thrusts ruthlessly, a heavy, rhythmic pounding that makes me shake.
I’m caught between the cold of the window and the white-hot heat of his body.
Every time he slams into me, my vision blurs.
I can’t look away. The guard is staring now, frozen by the fountain.
He knows. He can see my nipples peaking against the glass, the bloody marks between my tits, the jolt of my body, and the monster behind me claiming every bit of my soul.
“Tell me you’re mine,” Lev rasps, his teeth nipping the sensitive skin of my shoulder.
“I’m yours,” I cry out, my fingers clawing at the glass, leaving streaks in the condensation. “Fucking take me, Lev.”
He doesn’t slow down. He drives me toward the edge, his pace becoming frantic, desperate.
I’m the woman Lev Voronov has branded for the world to see. My climax crashes over me, and I scream his name into the glass, loud enough for every man in the garden to hear.
“That’s it, Var. Take my cock, every fucking inch of it. Soak it. Fuck, you feel so good.”
“Lev. Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. He hits the depths of me with a force that makes my knees buckle.
My forehead rests against the pane, my breath coming in jagged hitches.
The guard is still watching this blatant display of ownership.
He knows he has to. He has no choice. Lev growls, a vibration that goes right through my spine and settles in my marrow.
He pulls my hair back, exposing my throat to the moonlight.
“No one will take you from me,” he growls softly.
He slams into me one last time, his body tensing as he unloads. He stays buried inside me, his chest heaving against my back.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer with words. He just bites the nape of my neck, marking me again in a way only I can feel. He knows I’m not going anywhere. I’m tied to him by blood, his name, and a darkness I finally recognise as my own.