Vadim
She squirts all over my hand, which pleases me like nothing else ever has. “You like that, zhena moya?”
“Yes,” she chokes out in shock. “Fuck, yes.”
“My beautiful wife.”
Her pussy clenches around me, her body trembling as I fuck her harder than I’ve ever fucked anyone. The rain outside beats against the glass, matching the rhythm of my thrusts.
“That’s it,” I murmur, my voice rough with need. “Come for me again, Tai. Show me how good you take my cock.”
She whimpers, her body tensing as pleasure builds inside her again.
Her pussy clamps around my dick like it might break it in two.
I grit my teeth, fighting back my orgasm.
I want to feel her come apart on my cock one more time before I unload into her.
I drive into her with everything I have left, my fingers working her clit in tight circles until she shatters again, weaker this time.
Her scream echoes off the glass. I let go then, pounding through my orgasm and filling her deep while her pussy milks every drop from me.
She sags against the window, breath fogging the pane in short bursts. I stay buried inside her, one hand braced on the glass above her head, the other still gripping her hip. Rain streaks down the outside, distorting her reflection.
“Mine,” I say against her ear. She nods once, too spent to argue.
I press a kiss to the back of her neck and ease out of her slowly.
She makes a small, wrecked sound, and I want to wall her in.
Keep her. Never let another man hear that sound as long as either of us draws breath.
I pull my pants up and stash my dick, even though I could go again if she asked.
I turn her carefully, keeping one arm around her waist when her legs give a warning tremble. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes unfocused, her lips parted as she tries to catch her breath. The sapphire on her finger catches the dull light from the exposed window.
A Voronov ring on a Kaverin daughter.
London is going to choke on that.
I scoop her up before she can complain and carry her back to the bed. She curls into the sheets the second I lower her down, then groans.
“What?” I ask.
“I destroyed your curtains.”
I glance over. One curtain hangs half torn from the rail, the other still closed. The window is fully exposed to the garden.
“Easy fix.”
“That’s not the point. I know you hate daylight.”
“I don’t hate it. I just prefer the quiet and dark.”
“I’m the opposite. What do we do about that?”
“We compromise.”
She looks at the window. “One curtain open, one closed?”
I snort in amusement. “It’s a start.”
She smiles faintly, then winces when she shifts. Satisfaction moves through me, followed by something too close to concern for comfort.
“I hurt you?” I ask.
She studies me for a second, then softens. “No. I’m fine. Wrecked, but fine.”
“I need to clean you up,” I say.
“You need to stop saying useful things after ruining me. It’s confusing.”
I go into the bathroom anyway, grab a sponge, wet it with warm water, and return, scooping up her towel on the way past.
She goes quiet while I clean her up. We don’t need words now. Her eyelids flutter, but she fights sleep with the same stubbornness she uses for everything else.
I finish up and lift the duvet over her. She watches me with heavy eyes while I straighten the torn curtain enough to block the worst of the exposed glass. The rail needs replacing. Ivan will have opinions. I will ignore them.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Bogdan. “Yeah.”
“Pavel is missing.”
My eyes narrow. “Since when?”
“House empty. Wife gone. Two cars gone. Accounts moving.”
“Tarasov?”
“Still hidden. But one of his warehouses got emptied twenty minutes ago.”
“Find Pavel,” I say. “Tarasov can wait.”
Bogdan grunts and hangs up.
Tai pushes herself higher against the pillows. “Pavel is missing?”
“He is.”
“Why would he run now?” she asks.
“Because Arseny came here. Because Baron knows. Because I know. Pick one.”
“Could he come here?”
“He’d be an idiot.”
She gives me a look.
“Fine. He could come here,” I say. “Idiots get ambitious. Ambitious idiots get people killed. Usually themselves.” Pavel moving bothers me.
Men like him don’t abandon homes and move money unless a plan has failed or started.
Tarasov hiding is predictable. Pavel disappearing is the part that matters.
Tai notices the shift in me because she is annoyingly perceptive.
“You’re going downstairs,” she says.
“I am.”
She pulls the duvet higher. “I’m staying here.”
“You are.”
“Glad we cleared that up.”
I smile and bend down to kiss the top of her head. “Try to get some rest.”
I leave her before she can say something that makes me stay. The door closes behind me, and the quiet hallway returns me to the part of my life that makes sense. Problems. Men. Betrayal. Money moving. People running before I put my hands on them.
Heading to my office, I enter and sit. The room feels cold. I pull the laptop closer and start a new search on Pavel. He’s a coward. Running proves it. A man with balls stays and fights.
Bogdan walks in. He doesn’t wait for an invitation.
“Nothing at the private airfields yet,” he says.
“He’s still in the city. He wouldn’t risk the motorways with his wife and two cars. There are too many cameras.”
“I’ll widen the search.”
I look at the screen. Pavel is the reason Tarasov thought he could touch Tai. He tried to sell his own niece to a debt collector. I want to find him just so I can feel his ribs snap.
“I want him alive, Bogdan. For now.”
“Understood.”
Bogdan leaves. I stare at the empty doorway. I’m a Voronov. I don’t hide, don’t run, and I don’t lose what I’ve claimed. No one takes what is mine. No one survives the attempt.
My phone rings, and I snatch it up. Baron. “Pakhan,” I state.
“Arsen is here,” he says by way of a greeting.
I had a fucking feeling this was how it was going to play out. “And?”
“And he’s currently drinking my best vodka and telling me that if you so much as breathe on his daughter the wrong way, he’ll burn our shipping lanes.”
“You’re both liars. He’s drinking your second-best vodka, and he wouldn’t dare.”
“Okay, you caught us.”
“So, best buddies again, are we?” I grit out.
“I wouldn’t say that, but we were never enemies. Rivals. You know how it is.”
“Taisiya may not be his daughter.”
“He says she is.”
“You believe him?”
“She looks like his mother. I knew there was something about her when you brought her here to insult my cooking.”
“And it slipped your mind?”
“What was I supposed to say? I couldn’t think where I knew her from. Check your messages.”
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I pull it away to check the message. A photo is attached. It’s old and faded, but otherwise it’s Tai standing in the picture with two little boys, one of whom is definitely Baron. I’ve seen his childhood pictures.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my face.
“See?” Baron’s voice echoes down the line.
I don’t hit speaker; that is rude to the pakhan, so I put it back to my ear. “Yeah, I see. She doesn’t want anything to do with this.”
“Did she say that?” Arseny’s voice comes down the line.
“For now. This is a lot for her. If she decides otherwise, I’ll inform you.”
“You are protective of her,” he says.
“She is my wife. I will kill anyone for her. I will die for her.”
“That’s very dramatic for a man who has known her only a few days.”
“You don’t know Vadim,” Baron pipes up. “He has decided she is his. He means every word.”
“Keep your nose out of my marriage, Arseny,” I growl. “And tell Pavel to start praying. He is mine when I find him.”
“He is dealt with,” Arseny says, his voice losing its casual edge.
My hand tightens around the phone. “Meaning?”
“If you thought I wouldn’t respond to this, you clearly don’t know my reputation.”
“He is dead?”
“He is dead. Painfully dead.”
“Why didn’t you say earlier?”
“It happened in the last five minutes.”
“Pakhan?”
“I saw the evidence. He speaks the truth.”
“And Tarasov?”
“On a flight to Turkey. He will be lost in Russia’s system within a few hours. He is irrelevant. A middleman.”
“Irrelevant? He came to my home and asked me to hand over my wife—your daughter.”
“He won’t survive leaving the airport,” Arseny says. His voice is a flat line of static. “He’s been handled. Consider it a wedding gift.”
“I handle my own problems.”
“He was my problem first,” Arseny counters. “His betrayal was against the Kaverin name. I cleaned my own house. You should be thanking me for sparing you the mess.”
“Stay away from my house, Arseny. If she wants to see you, I’ll be the one to call.”
“She’s a Kaverin,” he says. “She won’t stay hidden forever.”
“She’s a Voronov,” I correct him, my voice dropping an octave. “And she’s exactly where she belongs.”
I hang up before he can get another word in. I toss the phone onto the desk and stare at the door.