Chapter 7
LILIANA
Iwake up the next morning to a telltale soreness. A dull ache between my legs reminds me of how hard Anton took me last night. How often he pounded into me on this huge bed. How many times he made me come.
My lips curl into a slow smile, but I hesitate to open my eyes and let in a new day.
Staying wrapped in the memories of last night sounds like a far better option.
The second I open my eyes, everything that happened yesterday slips into the past. Done and over with.
Because today will be something new. A blank slate that starts with facing the fact that I slept with a stranger.
Me.
Liliana Baranova.
It stuns me all over again that I could be so reckless, so daring, that I’d jump at the chance to, well, jump into his arms. It started simple enough.
I tripped when the power went out, and he caught me.
But in that instant, from one beat to the next, something shifted in the air, and craving his touch became impossible to resist. Then his kisses. And then—
Oh, God…
I bite my lip to hide a grin as I slowly peel my eyelids open to the dim room.
A faint glow seeps from behind the curtains, but it’s not so garishly bright that it could hurt my eyes or annoy me.
Hell, nothing can bother me or bring me down now.
Anton well and truly fucked my brains out, leaving me spent and lax, so deliciously relaxed after so many orgasms.
On the bed.
In the shower.
On the bed again.
On the floor? Yes, on the plush carpet, too, when he caught me getting up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and thought I was sneaking out and away from him.
My cheeks heat as I look at him now. He did all of that to me.
This older, distinguished, and very masterfully seductive man.
Anton took me over and over again, thoroughly convincing me that I’ve been so stupid to ever think I could be broken like Roman declared.
All this time, I’ve been letting that idiot’s words get to me and trick me into believing I’m frigid and unable to please a man in bed.
All night long, Anton pleasured me, and it seemed like he’d hold off until I came and soared in the bliss of yet another climax, only then letting himself follow me down.
I’m not frigid after all.
I’m not incapable of losing myself in sex and getting a guy off.
I stare at him sleeping, all those rugged, lean features so peaceful. Some of his hardness has eased now that he’s resting. And yet he still radiates power and authority. It’s unmissable, even when he’s vulnerable and not awake.
Just who are you?
Fully awake and still reeling that I slept with a strange man I hadn’t known more than a couple of hours, I study him some more.
I trace all the lines on his face. The darkness of his stubble.
Those few hints of silver and gray at his temples.
He’s so gruff, and underneath it lives that unmistakable confidence and control he showed me last night.
It’s not just dominance, the thing I always wished Roman could give me in bed, but something more.
Power.
Authority.
Like he’s in charge not only in bed with me but in life.
It’s something that he seems born to be, and as I look him over and notice a tattoo on his chest, one among many, I swear my heart skips a beat then stalls.
Hold on…
I furrow my brow and squint to make out the black ink I didn’t notice last night.
Oh, I saw how covered in tattoos he is. All those scars and tattoos suit his personality, the little I know of it.
Anton is not an angel or a good man. But last night I was far too busy with his mouth on me and his dick inside me to get a full look at the artwork on his tan skin.
Leaning closer to make out the finer details and lines, I hold my breath and know my eyes aren’t deceiving me.
That is the Sokolov emblem. The shield of arms is an old design, but I’ve spotted it plenty of times while I dated Roman.
It’s his family’s symbol, and the extra lines Anton has added, inked right over his heart, mean something more.
Oh. My. God.
This can’t be real.
Reading the mark inked into his skin, the very words that name him as the boss, I scramble for any excuse that would let me deny the connection.
Oh, fuck.
That means he’s Roman’s father.
Oh, my God!
Cringing at the realization, I hold as still as I can and run through every theory in my head. I’m grasping for anything to make sense of it, anything that means this can’t be happening.
But nothing works in my favor.
It all adds up.
His ink marks him as the boss of the Sokolovs.
He’s Roman’s father.
He’s here and familiar with the mansion because he has every right to be. As the owner of so many properties, including this one, not because he’s an employee expected to clean the place or winterize it.
He’s so commanding and oozing with authority because he is the boss. He is in charge.
Oh, fuck.
I catch my lower lip in my teeth and ride out another wave of emotion.
The high of being so thoroughly fucked last night still lingers, but worry creeps in.
The shock won’t fade, and as I watch him sleep and question what I did in the heat of the moment, I can’t stand the flush of shame rising in me.
I moved on from Roman to his father.
It’s an upgrade, but so naughty.
I should be burning up with shame. Embarrassed to the nth degree. But my God…
Refusing to let guilt spoil it now, in the cold light of the morning after, I can’t let myself cringe and cling to the belief that what we shared last night is wrong.
It felt too good. Too right. It was spontaneous, unplanned—and so real.
And not wrong. It couldn’t be a sin or mistake when he proved that I’m not frigid or broken to come with a man. It can’t be so bad when I can still feel the phantom touches that made me let go and embrace a one-of-a-kind bliss that only powerful orgasms can give a girl.
I lick my lip and make peace with the shock of it. The surprise that I slept with my ex’s father. Refusing to let guilt spoil it in the light of the morning after, I decide to move on. So it happened. That doesn’t mean I need to stick around and face reality with him. To explain any of it.
Because he doesn’t know.
He didn’t tell me his last name, and I assumed he was just someone who worked for the family. But I told him who I was. I introduced myself fully, and still, there was no recognition on his face.
Because he doesn’t know.
Roman never let me meet his actual family.
I’ve been under the impression that Roman kept me as a dirty secret, the girlfriend he was never proud to call his. Because of that choice, I never met his parents, knowing only that they’re divorced and his father is the head of the organization.
Not just a usual business.
A mafia empire.
I swallow hard, imagining how many women would kill to be in my place, in this bed with Anton Sokolov. Biting my lip again, I go a little frantic trying to pull myself out of this. I can’t stay.
I can’t begin to imagine how he’d react if he were to realize he’d fucked his son’s ex. Or if he’d care.
It’ll remain a mystery. It has to. Because I’m not changing my mind.
I’m too hooked on controlling my own life, calling the shots, and being fully independent to be able to help my family when they need me.
I’m through with letting a man have power over me and being in charge, and this man, Anton Sokolov, the leader of the city’s biggest and most ruthless mob, represents nothing but power.
Easing back slowly, I gingerly slip free of the lopsided embrace we shared as we slept.
I’ll dwell on the night-and-day differences between father and son some other time.
Right now, I need to go. To bolt and be out of here before he wakes up.
I make it to the edge of the bed, about to lift the covers to slip out. Holding my breath and tensing as I watch him sleep, I’m almost free.
That’s when he stirs and wakes up. Instantly, he spots me, and he’s even quicker to clue in to the fact that I’m trying to run.
He grunts, more a sound of surprise and annoyance than an actual word. It’s sexier than it should be. His sleepy face is too endearing. But as he shoots his arm out and hooks it around my waist, I can tell that even half-awake, he’s fully coiled with power and determination.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks as he hauls me right back into bed with him. The covers are rumpled between us, but they’re no barrier against his hot, naked body flush with mine.
Oh, shit.
Just like that, I’m turned on all over again.
“I was just going to head out.”
He arches one eyebrow. “No, you’re not.”
I furrow my brow at him. “That’s not your decision to make.”
He doesn’t react to my sass. Instead, he smiles smugly. “Fine. Let’s say it’s not my decision to make.”
Huh. That was easy…
“This time,” he adds as he sighs and holds me close.
I’m melting against him, but I can’t stay.
“It’s fate.”
I scowl at him.
I am not fated to be with anyone from his family, dammit. I am embracing the beauty and novelty in saying what I want and who I want in my life. Catching Roman cheating demonstrated how slow I’ve been to see the need for this independence.
“You’re snowed in,” he says dryly, clued in to how uncooperative I’m being as I wriggle to get free.
“So you’re staying, Liliana.” He surprises me with a tender touch as he tucks my hair behind my ear then cups my face to stare deeply into my eyes.
“You’re snowed in with me for at least another day. ”
Damn. It.
I press my lips together and exhale through my nose. The triumph in his expression annoys me. “I should’ve realized you’re the boss with your attitude.”
A smirk crosses over his face and I debate how to share what else I’ve realized about him.