Chapter Twenty-five

Milos

I look down at the hellion who is now my sister-in-law. “The only reason you aren't dead is because Aleksander forbids it. I was the one who told him he couldn't kill you when he wanted to weeks ago. At this moment, as my brother is being sewn up for tearing his stitches from the gunshot wound you gave him, I regret that denial, deeply. For his sake, so that he can heal peacefully, I'm taking your ass somewhere far away from him. I do not have time for this shit, and at this rate he doesn’t have the blood level.”

For the first time she appears contrite. Her eyes fill with tears as she looks toward the bedroom Aleksander and the doctor are in.

“You aren't taking her anywhere,” Aleksander calls to me.

Christ. I told the doctor to put him under. Entering his room, I shake my head. “You need to heal.”

“The stitches tore because she's an animal during sex. She didn't mean to hurt me. This is as much my fault as hers. In the dark we didn’t see the blood until I got dizzy—which I thought was from her gifted mouth.” He smiles.

“Will you shut the hell up.” The hellion is spitting mad.

Aleksander chuckles. “Go make me coffee.”

“I'm spitting in it,” she mumbles as she walks away.

“How is that any different than when I eat your cunt?” He laughs.

She slams the bedroom door behind her.

The doctor leaves him with a bottle of pain pills and a caution against any activities that would rip the stitches again for at least two weeks. Aleksander does nothing more than raise an eyebrow at the caution. Knowing Aleksander will do whatever the hell he wants, the doctor mumbles just try to call before he loses so much blood next time.

When the door closes behind the doctor, I study Aleksander who still appears too damn pale, blood transfusion from me or not.

“No more calls in the night of you bleeding to death or shot?”

Running his hand over his face, he nods.

I shake my head. “I will never complain about Celia cursing and fighting with me again. At least she has yet to give me stitches.”

His smile is sly. “The deepest love always leaves scars. Mine can be seen, yours cannot.”

Fuck him for being right.

“What did you find about Grigori?” he asks.

“My death is imminent as far as he is concerned. His sons are idiots and only following orders. They wouldn’t know what to do with Chicago or Philadelphia if it were handed to them on a silver platter. The plan for my death is something they fear but will do because he told them to. Nikita managed to get into their business. Everything is falling down around them. Valdez dug in and the Feds have a case so solid it’s embarrassing. They don’t want to move yet, though, trying to get as many under them and around them as possible. Another two or three months, tops.” I shrug. “At this point there is not talk of Celia as a target. I want it kept that way.”

“Move the dinner tomorrow out of the house and to a public place,” Aleksander suggests.

I consider it. “He is a coward who likely won’t go for it in a public setting. I’ll discuss with Valdez. I’ve brought in some of his people. You look like you need rest. I’ll leave you now.”

He nods. “Milos?”

“Yes.” I turn at his door.

“Threaten my woman again and I’ll give you stitches, brother.”

Laughing, I nod.

The woman is pacing. “He’s okay, right?”

I hold her gaze, it’s there. I missed it before in my anger with her. As much as she started out hating him, she’s fallen in love with him. Deciding to help her recognize it herself, I don’t reassure her the way she is begging me to. “Keep an eye on him. If there’s any change, call me. I’ll be staying in my condo three floors up to get here as quickly as I can.”

Her small hand covers her mouth. She whispers, “I will.”

***

Milos

Getting into the back of the car, I find Maxim waiting for me. “Where did you come from?”

“Two things: your woman pulled a tantrum and wouldn’t leave her mother’s home until she saw Sergei. So I indulged her. Second is far more important but knowing you, you won’t think so. Two men arrived in the city hours after Grigori. Valdez thinks something is up. One of the men is confirmed as a high-value hitter. Why the fuck can’t we kill him, again?” he demands in exasperation.

I sigh then order my driver to get me and Maxim to my condo. There was paperwork I needed there. “Killing him could lead to more problems in the end. The Feds are on his ass watching him. I’m talking with Nikita to see if there’s a way we can manipulate either of his sons to be the ones to do it for us. Give me a minute, let me plug into her audio on her phone.”

“You can hear and record audio from her phone?” His eyes are wide.

Nodding, I explain as I listen to her conversation with Sergei. “You know how social media knows how to show you advertisements on exactly what you’re thinking of? They are capturing your phone, television and in many cases computer audio and mining it for keywords. Valdez turned it around and made use of it. Why do you think we get our phones from him? He disabled the ability for our phones to listen in on our conversations and prevented anyone but him and us from tracking our location and phone calls. This shit isn’t cheap.”

Celia sounds pissed. It can wait. Maxim is right, the hitter in town situation needs to be dealt with. I call my restaurant, telling them to shut it down for tonight. Cancel reservations, only two waitresses and two kitchen staff are needed, everyone else can go home. Done with that, I call Valdez.

He answers on the second ring. “Yes, sir.”

“I’m moving the dinner to my restaurant Kotyonok, same time. I need you to turn it into the safest place in the city. Then I need your men among the crowd at Carlo’s for the engagement party. Any chance of taking out the hitter?” I bite my tongue to keep from asking if he’ll kill Grigori so all this shit can be over.

“Won’t be easy. He’s downtown and hasn’t left his room since he arrived. Those bulletproof clothes I told you about and your family buys now after you got shot, he wears them too. It would have to be a headshot by a man who never misses. I’ve got six of those, four are overseas, one is recovering from an injury, the other is in New York on another assignment. Let me check on that assignment. As far as the other, done. I’ll follow up with you once everything is in place.”

Frustrations seethes within me as I end the call.

Maxim runs his hand down his tie. “I think it’s best to wait on the wedding ceremony and move Celia somewhere safe until this is all over.”

I don’t give a fuck he’s right. If it were any other woman—the marriage she believed she was getting—I would. “I’ve gone more than four years with only snatched moments with her. I’m not ever letting her go again, not for a month, a week or a fucking day.”

His sigh is too damn loud. “Women.”

“Shut the fuck up, Maxim.”

***

Celia

Standing in front of the mirror, I run my hand over my dress. It’s fit for a funeral. The black sheath crepe dress’s hem grazes a few inches below my knees. Although it clings to my hips and breasts, it only hints I have a waist. There are even three-quarter sleeves covering my elbows. I decide to go with stockings—a suggestion from Lydia. I’ve never loved tights, preferring leggings.

My hair is done, falling straight down past my shoulders. I’d used the curling brush then the flat iron, hoping like hell I didn’t completely fry it, promising myself a hair mask either tonight or tomorrow before the party.

A text comes through from Milos. The dinner isn’t at home after all, it’s moved to his restaurant. Mother is already in the city. She had spent the day with his youngest brother and his fiancée. Milos will be arriving in a few minutes to bring me into the city. I sigh—something happened.

Why did he feel the need to come all the way out here to get me, only to turn around and leave again? I respond simply “okay” and focus on suppressing every instinct to fight Milos over the coming days. I’m not going to add to his stress, no matter what it takes.

I’m trying to pick which shoes to wear, velvet ballet flats or leather—Milos calls my name.

“In my closet,” I answer.

Suddenly he’s there in the doorway. Something is very wrong. Darkness and violence flows from him in waves. “I wanted to ensure what you wore is acceptable.”

The smoke in his voice burns me from ten feet away. I hate the way my hand trembles as I run a hand down my stomach, trying to calm the twisting there. “Is it okay?”

Glowing yellow eyes run down me, leaving fire where they touch. “Turn around.”

I bite my lip to keep from arguing—the idea of turning my back on him feels dangerous. Closing my eyes, I turn. In seconds, he’s covered the distance between us. Those waves are churning, pulling me under.

A finger runs down my spine, before pressing into the crack of my ass. His breath runs over my neck. “Okay? No, you don’t look okay. You look fucking delicious. I’m not going to be able to wait until tonight.”

Despite his words and how hard his cock is against my ass, something in his touch is wrong. I don’t have time to process it before a large hand presses me down over the top of the island in the closet. His other hand is tugging my dress up, grabbing a cheek and squeezing hard.

His groan fills the room. “Fucking hell, stockings. What a good girl you are for me, malyshka.”

If I’m a good girl, why does he draw the sheer fabric up the crack of my ass then slap my ass hard? And why the hell do I love it so much? Once, twice, four smacks to each cheek leave my core clenched tight, soaking my panties.

“I love your round ass, perfectly plump and ripe for my cock,” he whispers against the skin of a flaming hot ass cheek.

Milos presses his lips firmly to the center of an ass cheek in a kiss, then opens his mouth and bites me hard. Oh god, I moan so loud it startles me as it echoes around us. Before I can ask him why he’s doing this, he does the same thing to the other. Shudders rack my body, as I cling to the island to keep from falling.

Ouch, sonofabitch. He slaps both bites hard. “Perfect. The entire time you’re sitting there at dinner you’ll feel these bite marks and think of me. Your slutty little cunt will be hungry for my cock. By the time we’re home again you’ll be begging and pleading for me to fuck you like the slut you are.”

He tugs my panties to the side before thrusting hard and deep inside me. The power of it leaves me gasping. Rough hands grip my hips so tight I have no doubt I’ll find bruises tomorrow as Milos fucks me. Hard, fast, almost violently pounding into my body, using me for his pleasure alone.

I’m so fucked up because holy fucking shit I love it so much I’m on the verge of coming. Close, so close, Milos feels it. He pulls me up higher. Yes, right fucking there. Two more strokes and I’m falling hard and fast—breaking the surface of the ocean as if it were glass and shattering into a million pieces. The only thing holding me up is Milos as I struggle not to close my eyes and slip under the churning waves.

Milos coming inside me is everything. The molten heat melts all the pieces, pulling me back together and making me whole again as his…only his.

He lets me go. I sag, my legs won’t hold me up. A hand goes into my hair, guiding me to my knees. “Clean my cock, malyshka.” The words are soft and husky but still hold a command I don’t dare deny.

The hand beneath my chin guides my face up to him. “Eyes on me.”

I open my eyes as I lick him clean. The taste of us, tart, tangy, salty, oddly sweet, has me humming with pleasure. It’s only minutes but feels longer, as our eyes tangle. I don’t understand the darkness in him tonight, but I’m not going to press him or be anything other than what he needs.

“You’re so gorgeous on your knees with my cock in your mouth. It’s like you were made for me.” A finger runs down my cheek. “You love my cock in your mouth, don’t you?”

“Yes, Milos.” I moan as I suck him deeper.

“When you sip your wine tonight, eat your food, the taste of us will linger and your mouth will water the way your cunt does for me.” He grips his cock, slaps my lips with it then pulls away.

“Let’s go. We’re already late.” Zipping up, he walks away without looking back.

“I’ll be right down. I need to clean up and fix my makeup,” I mumble.

He’s back, his hand is around my arm, yanking me up off the floor. “No, no cleaning up. The longer my come is inside you, the better chance you have to become pregnant. As far as how you look, you’re always beautiful.”

“Are you crazy? I look like I’ve been thoroughly fucked.” I try to pull away so I can go back to the bathroom.

Milos tosses me over his shoulder. “You are exactly as I want you.”

What the hell? I’m placed in the back of the car with careful hands—so different from the way he treated me in the closet.

***

Celia

For the first time, I watch as he pulls an earbud out of an inner pocket then makes a phone call. He speaks French in a liquid flow. Instantly I know it’s to keep me unaware of what’s going on. My stomach is churning. His uncle wants him dead. Yet, we’re on our way to have dinner with him like nothing is wrong.

The car is filling with tension, leaving no air. Finally he ends the call. I open my mouth but it takes a moment to find my voice. “Is there anything I should know about your family? Any subjects to stay away from or…I don’t know, things that would offend them?”

“Things to know? They are craven, weak, and brutal. They are also classless and unrefined. Grigori is petulant and despotic. Stay away from them. Unless I am at your side.” The ice in his voice brings the temperature down in the car, causing me to shiver.

“Okay,” I force out.

Nothing else is said the rest of the way until we’re turning from Lakeshore Boulevard into the heart of downtown. I recognize we’re going to the restaurant Sergei took me to earlier.

I wipe my mouth to clean up the lipstick smeared over the edges and run my fingers through my hair.

It isn’t until the car pulls up outside the restaurant on the street Peter speaks, saying something in French. Milos only answers in a grunt. Peter opens my door since he’s in the front passenger seat and gets to me quicker. Only seconds later, Milos offers me his hand to help me out. I take it, clinging tight. In the lights from the streets I catch the tattoo on the back of his hand just right.

“Milos what does this tattoo mean?” I wonder aloud.

He goes still. “Nothing.” The way he drops my hand and turns his back on me is a slap that stings.

Biting my tongue to hold back the words to fight with him, I follow his large black figure into the restaurant.

We go up the stairs where several people are milling around with champagne glasses in their hands. The huge area has been cleared away of the other furniture, and only one long table remains.

Mother’s smile is strained as she greets me. Her eyes hint she’d rather be anywhere but here. Nikita is smiling as he proudly introduces his fiancée, a timid girl who is maybe my age but probably younger.

Milos wasn’t exaggerating about his uncle and cousins. His uncle’s eyes are winter blue and so very cold, even with a smile stretched across his face. There is no doubt he’s related, as he looks a lot like Milos and his brothers, except his hair is completely white. The man is also slightly bent over. His sons are him only younger, but just as empty and cold.

The older cousin, Ivan, eyes me. “Fat but pretty enough,” he says in Russian.

I go stiff. “Empty but handsome yourself,” I respond in Russian.

His father laughs, I fight not to shiver at the sound. “Milos always the winner, in life and in love.” He attempts to put his hand on my shoulder. I’m not even thinking about Milos’s decree that no one touch me—I don’t want this man to touch me. I don’t want him within a thousand feet of me.

Milos growls low in his throat, his hand goes from my arm to around my waist and yanks me against him. “Do not touch my woman. She belongs to me. No one is allowed to touch what is mine.”

A blush comes over me, but I don’t argue. Dropping my eyes from the man, I press against Milos.

An eyebrow goes up as blue runs over me. “Pretty but hardly worth guarding, nephew.”

“It’s not about worth, it’s that I never let go of what’s mine. Not a dollar, business, or woman.” Milos is taller than his uncle by several inches, and the man sees something in his nephew that has him chuckling roughly.

“Just like your father.” It’s an accusation.

The moment passes as if it never happened. Peter appears, his mouth to Milos’s ear. “This won’t take long.” Milos flashes a smile. “Since it’s about her father and issues with the engagement party tomorrow, I’ll be bringing Celia. Give us a few minutes.”

His hand at my waist guides me along beside him. He walks me into his office. The moment we clear the door, he closes it behind him. I study the door, it’s clearly hardwood. I’m impressed by how thick and quietly it closes. My guess is it would take a battering ram to get it open. When I came earlier the door was opened wide, which now that I think of it was odd. Most men in the mafia kept their offices tightly closed and guarded. Why had it been open?

Milos picks up a phone on his desk—the French is back. Keeping me out of what’s going on. Nerves have me pacing his large office as he talks. He hangs up the phone yet continues to stare at it. I can feel him thinking.

“Milos, is there…something going on?” The words come out of my tight throat in a whisper.

He turns his head to look at me. The shake of his head is small. “Business is business. It’s just busy. Timing issues.”

“Please talk to me. Is there something I can do?” I plead with him, meeting his shuttered yellow eyes.

Tilting his head, he studies me. “You want to do something?”

My knees go weak, I’m not proud of the way I feel the need to lean against the door. “Yes, anything.”

An exhale of sound that might be laughter but isn’t. Rounding the desk, he stalks me until he’s only inches away, looming over me. “Anything?”

The smoky tint of his voice slides down my tummy to the apex of my thighs. “We can’t. Your family is outside…they might hear.”

One eyebrow lifts as he presses against me, “You will have to be very quiet. No one gets to hear your whimpers and moans but me.”

Large hands go under my ass and lift me up. My body betrays me, wrapping my legs around his hips, back arching to get closer to him. “Milos,” I whisper.

He covers my mouth with his hand, I want to struggle against it. “What did I say?” It’s wrong to be so turned on by the way his hand isn’t letting anything out of my mouth—even air. “Be a good girl for me, kotyonok. Not a sound.”

I give in, locking my arms around his neck and holding on tight. His thrust inside me is like the one in the closet, hard, fast and it stings. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve had him inside me; those first few thrusts are always painful. Usually it’s a good pain, a sting that centers me to only the feel of him inside me—forgetting fears and everything but him. This time the pain is punishing in a dirty way that feels wrong. None of that matters to my body, though. It only wants Milos.

My head goes back against the door. Fighting to breathe through my nose, his large hand covering my hand doesn’t allow for even a fraction of air in or out of my mouth. Milos fucks me like a man possessed. I’m grateful the door doesn’t move from his pounding into my body.

“What a perfect slut you are. Anytime I want to fuck you, your cunt is wet and open for me. If I were to tell you to bend over the table in front of them you would do it, wouldn’t you? Yes, I could. Your cunt loves that idea, it’s squeezing my cock so fucking tight. You want me to do that? Bend you over in public and let men watch me fuck you.” He growls low in his throat.

I’m trying to shake my head, making myself a liar. Because he’s right, the thought of it is so wrong, and maybe that’s why it’s so fucking hot.

“It will never happen. I’ll never allow anyone to hear your moans of pleasure. No one gets to see your body but me. All of you belongs to me. Those whimpers are mine. This cunt is mine.”

I nod as much as I can.

“Good girl,” he hisses low as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. More, oh god, more I want to plead, but I can barely breathe as his huge body is plastered against me, fucking me into the door. Harder, harder.

“No crying out when you come,” he whispers into my ear. “I can feel your cunt is close to coming. Not a sound. Or they’ll get to hear me spank your ass red.”

No sound, no sound, I tell myself, but I have no idea if I manage to stay quiet as my orgasm slams into me, shattering all my control.

Teeth graze my neck then bite down. The pain goes straight to my core, adding to the tight clenching around him as I ride out the waves of my orgasm.

We’re both fighting for air, he removes his hand from over my mouth. “That’s my good girl. I’m so proud of my baby girl for not making a sound.”

His praise adds to the glow of this moment. I tighten my arms around his neck and reach up to kiss him. It’s a slap when he pulls away.

“We need to get back. I’m sure they are missing us.” He’s cold as he grasps my hips and leaves my body. The loss of him inside me twists my chest into knots.

When we leave his office, it’s clear everyone knows what happened. His uncle and cousins grin maliciously. His brothers keep their eyes down and away. As my ass meets the chair, those bites sting. I hate the way Milos was right. I’m not able to take my mind off those bites and Milos giving them to me.

Shame burns through me at the way he’s treating me as if I’m an annoyance, a few times talking over me. Once telling me there’s no need to give my opinion as it didn’t matter.

By the time the evening is ending, I’m miserable, blinking back tears. I don’t understand anything.

Mother leaves first, yawning several times. Finally his uncle and cousins give false smiles as they leave. Telling me they can’t wait to see me again tomorrow. I fake a smile as I parrot it back to them.

The moment they clear the building, tension reappears in Milos and his brothers.

I wipe my face with my hand, then realize it’s missing. “Where did my wedding band go?” The words fly out of my mouth.

Milos frowns. “You had it when we came in. Go check my office.”

Nodding, I nearly run back to his office. I open the office door and scream at the sight of a man in all black with his face covered in black face paint.

A hand goes into my hair, yanking me further inside and slamming the door closed behind me. He sends the deadbolt home.

“Well, well, well, I have the perfect bait to get your husband on the hook. Do you think he would trade your life for his?” The man is wide, but he’s shorter than Milos by four or five inches. He tightens his hand in my hair, as he pulls a gun from a holster on his waist. There’s another gun holstered low on his thigh.

I shake my head as fear allows real tears to fall. “He doesn’t love me or care for me. I’m a means to an end. If you take me, he’ll marry my sister instead.”

He frowns as he eyes the door. There is no sound from behind it even though they had to have heard the scream.

“I told you. He’s probably coming up with a reason I didn’t make it now.”

The man eyes the secret passage he came in through—I spot it glowing at the edge of Milos’s desk.

“Can I go with you?” I whisper.

Brown eyes go wide. “Are you fucking serious? You fucked him like you couldn’t get enough an hour ago.”

I shake my head. “Sex is sex. You heard him. He called me a slut. All he cares about is I’m willing to fuck him whenever he needs it. He makes me feel good but every time I hate myself a little more. Can I please go with you? He doesn’t care about me enough to protect me. He won’t come for me.”

“Fuck,” he mutters as he lets me go. “This was a waste of time and a chance.” His eyes are on the door then back to the hidden passageway.

Allowing my face to fall, I nod as my hands go down on the desk. His eyes aren’t on me, he never sees me pick up the letter opener, and it isn’t until I’m driving it up under his chin that he looks at me. Shock clear on his face, he drops his gun as he grabs for the letter opener. I drop straight down, grabbing the gun as I hit the floor, then roll away from him. It’s a Sig Sauer-something with an extended magazine. My nonna taught me to shoot using Glocks, but it isn’t all that different. Wrapping both hands around the grip, I flick the safety with my thumb, take a deep breath, aim for his head and pull the trigger.

His head explodes, blood splatters everywhere.

“Celia,” Milos thunders through the door.

I push off the floor and almost fall I’m trembling so badly. I cross the room, slide the lock back and back up as he opens the door.

“Jesus, kotyonok, no.” Taking the gun from me, he pulls me into his arms, holding me so tight I can’t breathe.

“He was going to kill you,” I whisper. “You would have done it. Traded yourself for me. I couldn’t let you do that, Milos. I couldn’t.”

Suddenly the room is filled with men. Every one of them moves like soldiers, security—security who failed. None of them say anything. Milos lifts me into his arms and carries me out into the cool night. The sounds of the city are dim.

When he slides into the car he doesn’t let me go. His arms wrap around me tight as the city passes by outside. It feels like only minutes later the car goes into a parking garage. We’re back at his condo, the place where I made a fool of myself and thought I’d never see him again.

I close my eyes tight. Only when I open them, it isn’t the same condo. Even the layout is different. It’s in the same building but I think if it’s possible it’s higher. This one is almost twice as big.

He carries me into the shower and turns it on, I wonder why then I see the bottom of the shower fill with blood. I had blood on me. Too bad. I liked this dress.

“I’ll buy you another dress, baby,” Milos whispers as he undresses me.

Blinking up at him, I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud. He’s standing under the rainfall showerhead with me. Still dressed, getting all wet. He grabs body soap as he wets a washcloth and runs it over me. He’s gentle for the first time tonight. Are his hands shaking?

“You’re all wet,” I mumble. My hands go up to undo his shirt but are numb and fumble with the buttons.

His hands go over mine. “I’ve got it. I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything.”

He tears his shirt off then his pants down. Stepping out of his shoes. Why did he wear shoes into the shower? My mind is growing fuzzy, thinking is too hard. I close my eyes. But god, I see it, feel the gun buck in my hands and see his head explode and blood go everywhere. I shot at cans, at paper targets. Not people. “It’s just in case, piccolina, there are no guarantees in life,” my nonna told me as she ordered me to empty another magazine, and don’t miss this time.

There was a guarantee though. A guarantee I would bet my entire life on. Milos would give up his life for mine. He wouldn’t hesitate, wouldn’t try to find another way where we could both walk away. If I hadn’t killed the man, Milos would have died. Maybe not tonight or even tomorrow, but his uncle wants him dead. And his uncle was a Levin, Bratva, and what they wanted they got.

But I’m a Levin now too. And I want Milos forever.