20. Vladimir
Vladimir
Idon’t know what came over me when I saw my new wife storm off with her friends, but an irrational, primal thought surged through me— She’s going to run.
For a split second, I saw red.
I left Dimitri and Konstantin without a second thought, moving before I could even think about why I needed to chase after her.
But then I heard her.
Heard her freaking out, her sharp, sarcastic words laced with something she didn’t want to admit—uncertainty.
And just like that, the haze lifted.
The tension in my shoulders eased, and I realized?—
She wasn’t running.
She was drowning.
And I almost felt bad for the first time in a long time.
Almost.
Because the truth is?
I don’t regret a damn thing.
You can call me selfish.
A bastard.
A possessive, ruthless monster.
Fine.
But I’m her selfish bastard.
My wife.
She’s beautiful, and not just in how men salivate over—no, Luna is something else.
She’s a dark angel—one who doesn’t just survive in my world but thrives in it.
She doesn’t just accept my life—she owns her place in it like she was carved for it.
Did I have to blackmail her into getting what I wanted? I wouldn’t be Pakhan if I didn’t use whatever means necessary.
In the end, I got what I wanted.
And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that a man like me—a man made of violence and shadows—can be worthy of her.
For now, though?
I’ll settle for our honeymoon.
A full two weeks alone with her.
By the end of it, she’ll know.
She’ll know she’s mine in every way that matters.
Luna said goodbye to her family and friends before we left.
I made sure Dimitri and Konstantin escorted everyone to their hotel.
Her mother, Elizabeth (yes, we’re on first-name bases now), insisted tonight should be about Luna and me.
After the threat she whispered at the altar, we had a conversation, and she was surprisingly motherly—a complete 180.
But her son?
Lamar.
That professor bastard glared at me like I personally assassinated his firstborn.
I get it. It’s understandable.
His sister is now married into the mafia. We’re still the bad guys, no matter how much we try to “clean” our image.
But it’s still fucking annoying to be dismissed like that by a college professor, of all things.
I would’ve broken his nose right there if he weren’t Luna’s brother.
But…
Happy wife, happy life, right?
And punching her baby brother probably would’ve made her murderous.
The same goes for Angel, her retired assassin older sister.
I already have two stab wounds from Luna—I don’t need another.
Now, here we are. Sitting in the back of my town car, headed to our house.
Our house.
Fuck, that sounds perfect.
We leave for our honeymoon the day after tomorrow.
Luna has some last-minute “girly maintenance” prep tomorrow with the girls.
I tried to understand what they were saying but was utterly lost when she started discussing different creams and serums.
We’ve been in the car for fifteen minutes. We have forty-five more minutes before we get home, and Luna hasn’t said anything.
Not.
A.
Single.
Word.
She sits on the far side of the seat, staring out the window as the NYC skyline blurs by.
Usually, I don’t mind silence. It’s never bothered me.
But with Luna?
I want it all.
Her thoughts.
Her fears.
Her happiness.
Everything that is Luna Imala-Petrov.
So, I break the silence.
"Does your brother know about you and Angel?"
I don’t outright say the word assassin, but she knows that it is what I am talking about.
She exhales slowly, the weight of the question settling between us.
“He knows we were recruited after our time in the military,” she says, her voice steady. “But he doesn’t understand the full extent of our activities. If he realized we’re going around eliminating bad guys who aren’t technically sanctioned by the law, he’d try to lock us up and throw away the key.”
If I hadn’t seen her in action, then I would have the same reaction.
Her voice tightens slightly. “He thinks he has to take care of everyone now. Like it’s his burden to carry since our dad died and Angel’s husband passed away.”
I glance at her, curiosity growing. "Angel’s husband was sick, but what happened to your dad?"
Luna visibly tenses.
The air shifts.
When Dimitri ran a background check on her—what was available, at least—there wasn’t much.
-Honorable military discharge.
-Tight-knit family.
-A childhood that looked normal enough.
-A father was listed as deceased, but no details.
I reach over, my voice lower now. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
She hesitates, but she lets me pull her hand into my lap.
I gently rub my thumb over the scars on her wrist.
Then, she speaks.
"He was killed at a gas station on his way home from work. He tried to save a group of kids who were about to get kidnapped and shoved into a van."
Shit.
"Anybody who knew him knew how much he loved kids.
" Her voice is soft and steady. "They said he took out the first two guys, but there was a third.
He got him from behind. Stabbed him. My dad swung back and knocked him out, but he had already lost too much blood.
By the time the ambulance arrived, he was gone. "
I close my eyes for a moment.
“We never got to say goodbye.”
I lift her wrist to my lips, pressing a kiss to the inside.
“I’m so sorry, Lisichka.”
Luna lets out a small, breathy laugh—but there’s no humor in it.
"He was a big guy," she says, voice thick with emotion. "I was so mad that some punk with a knife got him in the back with a cheap shot. But deep down, he would’ve done it again in a heartbeat if it meant saving those kids.”
I already know my next question. "What happened to the kids that they tried to kidnap?”
She exhales, her tone softer.
"Three boys and one girl. They still keep in touch with my mom. The girl was actually in my brother’s class. They still talk."
The car is quiet.
The weight of her story settles between us.
After a long moment, I speak. "My mom died after giving birth to Dimitri."
Luna’s head snaps toward me, her eyes wide.
"Russia is known for its brutal winters," I say, keeping my voice even. "She got pneumonia in her last trimester. We thought we were going to lose her… and Dimitri."
I pause, swallowing the memory.
"My father was the Pakhan of the Bratva. He had power, wealth—everything. But none of that mattered when it came to saving his wife and unborn son.”
Luna doesn’t speak. Just watches me, silent. Listening.
"Dimitri was sick for the first two years of his life." I pause. "But he survived."
Her voice is small. "Why did you tell me that?"
I turn toward her, lifting both hands to her face.
She gave me a piece of herself.
It’s only right that I give a piece of me in return.
“Moya Luna,” I whisper—my moon.
I brush my lips against hers.
Slow.
Claiming.
She shivers in my hands, and I hold her there.
When I pull away, her breath is shaky.
I take her wrist again, rubbing my thumb gently over her scars.
We fall into a comfortable silence.
The world outside fades away.
And for the first time all night?—
Luna doesn’t pull away.
We finally pull up to the estate.
I dismiss the driver with a quick nod before rounding the car. No one touches my wife but me.
I open Luna’s door, holding out my hand. She hesitates for half a second before placing hers into mine.
The first time I held Luna’s hand, I noticed how different it was from most women I’ve been with.
Most women have soft, delicate hands.
Luna’s?
Slightly calloused, probably from gripping weapons and training.
Yet, somehow, still soft.
The contradiction suits her perfectly.
“I had your things from the hotel dropped off while the ceremony was going on. The rest will arrive while we’re on our honeymoon.”
She listens quietly as I continue.
“It’s late, so the staff has already left for the day. Only security is around. We have two chefs—one for the morning and one for the afternoon. They cook for the team and us.
The cleaning team comes three times a week.
They’re all family members of my men—people I trust. It made sense to employ them.
The security team stays in the west wing, near the weight room and rec area.
They have their own kitchen and living space, so you won’t run into them often unless they’re patrolling.
Our section is the north wing, overlooking the pool and garden. Konstantin and Dimitri stay in the east wing. We’re in the south wing right now—security headquarters is that room on the left.”
I point it out, letting her take it all in.
“My team consists of Dimitri, Konstantin, and five underbosses. It used to be six, but I’m in the process of replacing one unexpectedly.”
Luna smirks.
Yeah. She caught that.
I continue, ignoring her amusement.
“We have about 150 men, give or take, split between my underbosses. I’ll set up a meeting soon to formally introduce you. They need to know exactly who you are.”
I pause, glancing at her. “What do you think about inviting EAO members?”
Luna looks at me, intrigued.
I press on. “You and Isabella can arrange it. That way, we discuss the merger under one roof.”
Luna nods slowly, still scanning her surroundings.
This house has been mine for sixteen years. It is a blend of Mediterranean and modern architecture. Dark earth tones dominate the decor—deep blues, greens, and beiges set against black walls.
It’s always felt like home.
But as I watch Luna move through the space, I realize something.
She’s the missing piece I never knew I needed.
“If there’s anything you don’t like, feel free to change it.”
She finally stops surveying the space and turns to me.
“I think it’s a great idea to have the meeting,” she says, then adds, “I was born in the South with somewhat traditional parents who taught me that cooking and cleaning are basic life skills. And I was in the military, so I’ll pull my weight and help where possible.”
Most women in my world would be content to sit back and have everything done for them, but given her background, that doesn’t surprise me.
Before I can respond, she continues, “And just so we’re clear, I better not see Dimitri naked. If I do, I’ll skin him alive.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Noted.”
“My sleep schedule is all over the place from missions, so I’d prefer to avoid any unwelcome surprises.”
A grin tugs at my lips.
I step closer.
“Is there anything else you’d like to say, wife?”
Luna lifts her chin, meeting my gaze head-on.
“Yes, there is.”
I stop right in front of her.
“I’m all ears, Lisichka.”
Her eyes harden slightly. “We will always communicate our schedules. If something comes up, I expect you to tell me. I don’t want to be kept in the dark.”
I nod, satisfied so far. But she’s not done.
“And while I know this marriage began as a business partnership, I take my vows very seriously.”
My amusement fades slightly.
Her voice drops lower, sharper.
“There will be no infidelity. If you cheat on me, I’ll fuck two men and a woman—depending on my mood—and send you the video with divorce papers so fast your brain won’t even process what’s happening. Do you understand?”
My entire body locks up.
A cold, dark rage creeps into my veins.
I step closer until we’re chest to chest.
“You let another person touch you, and they’ll beg for death by the time I’m through with them.”
My voice is low. Deadly. “And even then, I’ll prolong it.”
Luna doesn’t flinch.
She stands firm, meeting my gaze with the poise of a queen without fear of a king’s wrath.
“So, we agree—to be faithful?” she challenges, her voice laced with defiance.
I don’t blink. “Yes, wifey, but we also need to address your habit of lodging blades into my body parts.”
She rolls her eyes, brushing past me with effortless grace. “Hurry up and show me my new room, Dracula. I’m exhausted, and my hair appointment tomorrow will take forever. I prefer a decent night’s rest.”
A slow smirk curves my lips.
My wife, ladies and gentlemen.