Chapter 10 #2
Sal’s eyes dropped to my mouth, then returned to my face. Desire moved between us, quiet and vicious.
“What do you want?” he asked.
The question meant the room. Food. Rest. Security. But my body heard something else.
I wanted his mouth. His hands. His weight. I wanted to learn whether the control he carried so carefully could break. I wanted to put my lips against the cut on his cheek and then work lower until his disciplined breathing stopped.
Relief had loosened every part of me that fear kept locked.
The lust rushed into the space it left behind.
“I want everything,” I said. “Everything you have to offer.”
“Oh,” he said, grinning, “you’ll have it. Not much longer to wait.”
His gaze held mine.
The warmth in my body became an ache.
I had never wanted anyone more.
Iwaited for Kiryl on the porch for forty-three minutes. Sal brought me a coat after minute six. He put it around my shoulders anyway, without fastening it or telling me to wear it.
At minute twenty, he brought coffee.
At minute thirty, he stopped pretending he was there to check the perimeter and stood beside the porch rail with me.
Then tires sounded on gravel.
A dark SUV appeared between the trees. I was down the steps before Sal said my name.
The vehicle had not fully stopped when the rear door opened. Kiryl leaned out, pale-eyed and rumpled, wearing a coat too large for him.
“Lena—”
I hit him hard enough to push him back against the seat.
My arms closed around his neck. His went around my waist. He smelled of airplane air, coffee, and Tonio’s cologne.
Alive. Warm. My precious little brother.
“You’re crushing me,” he said into my hair.
“Be quiet, Kiryl, please.”
“I think one of my ribs—”
I let go immediately and shoved his coat open.
“What ribs?”
“Joking, joking!”
I pressed both hands along his sides.
“Lena.”
“Lift your shirt.”
“Right here?”
“Right now.”
He looked over my shoulder, seeking help. Tonio climbed out from the other side carrying three paper bags and a thermos. A bruise darkened his jaw.
“Do what she says,” he advised. “I saw her stab Sal with jewelry.”
“I did not stab him. Not exactly. It was just a little jab.”
“You absolutely did stab him.”
Kiryl lifted his shirt.
No bruising. No bandages. No swelling. I checked his ribs, stomach, and back. Then his wrists. His face. His pupils.
He endured it for almost a minute.
“Tonio has fed me continuously since Brooklyn,” he complained. “I think I’ve consumed my own weight in pastry.”
“It’s possible,” Tonio said. “He’s very skinny. It’s not many croissants.”
“I was sleeping. He woke me with meatballs.”
“You needed protein. A man cannot survive on pattisserie alone.”
“At two in the morning?”
“Your muscles don’t care what time it is.”
Pietro exited the driver’s side. He looked tired and said nothing. He only gave me one short nod.
Safe. Delivered. I looked past Kiryl.
Sal remained on the porch.
He had not followed me down. He had not placed himself inside our reunion or waited near enough to be thanked. He stood with his hands in his coat pockets, watching the road beyond us while I held my brother.
Claiming none of it.
Kiryl followed my gaze.
“The frightening one,” he said quietly. “That’s who I meant.
“Yes.”
“He arranged this?”
“Yes.”
“He didn’t ask me anything.”
I looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Nobody asked about the companies. Or Father’s accounts. Or what you’d told me. They didn’t ask me to convince you to stay.”
“Nothing?”
“Tonio asked whether you were always this bossy, but that’s about it.”
Kiryl took my hand.
“They told me the money and documents were mine even if you left Sal. Pietro gave me an emergency number that doesn’t go through the Scordatos.”
I looked toward the porch again. Sal had turned slightly. His profile was hard against the lake.
He’d done all this for nothing.
I walked Kiryl toward the house. When we reached Sal, my brother stopped. They studied one another.
“Thank you,” Kiryl said.
Sal inclined his head. “You’re welcome.”
That was all.
He opened the door and let us enter first.
Kiryl slept for three hours after eating again. Tonio took personal credit for this.
“You see? Food creates peace.”
The strategy meeting began at six in the library.
Angela joined through a secure screen. Pietro sat near the fireplace. Tonio occupied the sofa with an ice pack against his bruised jaw. Sal stood beside the table.
I sat across from him.
“Gianni still needs Yelena’s signature,” Angela said. “The marriage was never completed legally, but he’s trying to transfer Sokolov-controlled assets through a spousal authorization structure.”
“He forged it before,” I said.
“The banks rejected the copy.”
“Because the witness code was wrong. He’ll try to force a live signature.”
Sal’s expression gave nothing away. Angela changed the display. “Northbridge retained a backup server. Air-gapped. Physical storage.”
“Location?” Sal asked.
“Unknown.”
“I can find it,” Pietro said. “We need the courier.”
I knew before he finished.
“Gianni trusts one person with physical keys,” I said. “The courier who carried his mother’s letters after she died.”
Every face turned toward me. I gave them the man’s description, his habits, the restaurant where he ate alone on Thursdays, and the warehouse entrance he used when he believed nobody watched.
Pietro took notes.
“He carries two phones,” I added. “The cheap one is real. The expensive one is theater. He leaves the expensive one in the car when he wants to disappear.”
Angela nodded. “That’s enough to build a track.”
Sal looked at me.
“Good,” he said. “Pietro takes the server tonight. Angela handles access. Tonio stays here.”
Tonio lowered the ice pack. “Why?”
“Your face attracts questions.”
“My face attracts admiration.”
“Not tonight.”
Sal closed the file.
I remained seated. “I can help Angela identify—”
“No.”
My eyes narrowed. He came around the table.
“This is not a command from Daddy,” he said quietly. “It is advice from the man running the operation. You have given us what we need. Your brother is awake.”
I looked toward the hallway.
“Go be with him,” Sal said. “The war will survive one evening without you.”
I stood. He listened when I spoke. Then he gave me permission to stop being useful.
I found Kiryl in the guest wing wearing borrowed pajamas and reading beside the window.
He looked up.
“Are you staying?” he asked. I leaned against the doorframe.
“Until you fall asleep.”
“And then after? With him?”
“Like I said, I’ll be here until you fall asleep.”
Kiryl smiled a wicked smile.
I threw a pillow at his head.
Kiryl fell asleep with one hand curled beneath his face, as he had when he was ten and still believed I could prevent every bad thing from reaching him.
I closed his door and stood in the silent guest hall.
The house had settled around us. Wind moved against the lake-facing windows. Guards crossed the grounds outside, their flashlights appearing and disappearing between the trees.
Sal was not in his room, but I found him in the study.
His jacket hung over a chair. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, exposing the scar along his right forearm. His collar stood open. A glass of untouched whisky sat beside his laptop.
He stared at a report without turning a page.
“You’re still working.”
He looked up. His eyes traveled over me once.
I wore one of his white shirts. Nothing beneath it except plain black underwear. The hem reached the tops of my thighs. I had buttoned only enough to cover my breasts.
Sal’s expression became carved stone.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your room.”
“You went through my things.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Why?”
“I wanted your shirt. Makes me feel close to you.”
He shut the laptop.
“You’re exhausted.”
“I slept this afternoon.”
“You’re emotionally overwhelmed.”
“I’ve been emotionally overwhelmed since birth.”
“Yelena. Baby girl.”
I closed the door. The latch clicked. His gaze sharpened.
I crossed the room. He did not move when I stopped between his knees.
“I want you so badly I can barely think.”
His breath left slowly.
“That may be the exhaustion.”
“It’s not.”
“The relief.”
“It’s part of it. But nowhere near all of it.”
I put my hands on his shoulders. His muscles tightened beneath my palms.
“Tonight,” I said, “I’m clear. I want you. All of you.”
His eyes closed for half a second. I bent and kissed his throat.
His pulse struck my lips.
I kissed it again.
“Yelena.”
“Don’t tell me to stop.”
He said nothing. I opened another button of his shirt. Then another.
Warm olive skin appeared. Dark hair over his chest. A pale line near his ribs. An old scar I had not seen before.
I kissed that too.
His hand closed around the arm of the chair. I worked lower.
My mouth found the center of his chest. My fingers opened his belt. The buckle made a small metallic sound in the quiet room.
Sal’s stomach tightened.
“Look at me,” I said.
His eyes opened. There was no coldness in them now. Only hunger under strain.
I unfastened his trousers and let my hand slide inside.
He was hard. Thick. Hot through the fabric of his underwear. His cock was magnificent, so heavy and hungry.
The first stroke drew a rough breath from him. The second made his head tip back.
I liked that.
Liked seeing the man who controlled rooms forced to grip a chair because my hand moved over him.
I kissed beneath his jaw.
“Still think I’m confused?”
His hand caught my wrist. Not painfully. He held me still against him.
“One last question,” he said.
His voice had gone rough.
I waited.
“Today,l offer you sex without discipline. No punishment. No rules beyond what we agree in the moment. No Little space unless you ask for it.”
“Yes.”
Something in his face broke. His hand released my wrist and moved to the back of my neck. He stood so fast the chair rolled into the desk.
Then he kissed me. No measured patience. No forehead.
His mouth covered mine with months of restraint packed into one brutal answer. I caught his open shirt in both fists. His arm went around my waist and lifted me against him.
The hard length of him pressed between my thighs.
I moaned into his mouth.