Semua Bab A Bride For A Truce: Bab 61 - Bab 70

Sera You know that feeling when you realize that your drunk mind is playing tricks on you? You become embarrassed and wish that the floor would open up and swallow you. That was Diana when we all got outside and realized that what had made her scream bloody murder was a snowman whom she had mistaken for a man standing in the shadows. We all laughed and went inside after which everyone took turns to unwrap their gifts. I got a designer coat from Irina, a leather journal with my name embossed in gold from Diana. A joint gift of lingerie and bedroom toys from Diana and Irina which earned them smacks on their heads from me. Designer perfumes and a YSL bag from Zoya. A watch from Sergei and a set of engraved knives from Mikhail. From Adrik, a custom locket with my mother’s photo, which made me shed a tear and also a framed photo of us during our wedding reception which had “You are my home.” engraved behind it. And also more diamonds with the engraving “Moya Zhena” (my wif

Sera New York smelled different. Not as calming as Moscow. But something more chaotic. The private jet landed just after dawn, and by the time we stepped onto the tarmac, the city skyline had begun to stretch itself awake. Everything felt different now. I felt different. Gone was the injured, unconscious woman who left weeks ago. In her place stood someone healing but still breathing. Still standing. Adrik’s hand was warm over mine in the back of the SUV as the skyline emerged through the glass. The familiar pulse of the city stirred something tight and uncomfortable in my chest. It was just Adrik and I heading home. Irina had driven with Yuri and Vladimir to go drop off Diana. The house was quiet when we arrived.Nadia had done a good job while we were away. The penthouse felt lived in, clean, and warm. I stood in the middle of our bedroom, slowly peeling off my coat, unsure what to do with the rush of feelings. Being back in the city made everything feel mo

SeraThe gym in the penthouse was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of my sneakers hitting the padded floor.Adrik stood across from me, his arms folded. He looked far too amused for someone about to teach his wife how to break a person’s face. “Okay,” he said, tossing me a pair of leather gloves. Rule number one—don’t aim for the face unless you want to send a message. Rule number two—don’t hesitate.”I pulled the gloves on, tugging the straps tight. “I’m not trying to send a message. I just don’t want to die next time someone points a gun at me.”His smirk faded, replaced by something sharper.“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”He stepped closer and lifted my arms into a basic stance. His touch was gentle but firm, fingers adjusting my elbow, my wrist, my footwork.“Feet shoulder-width apart. Chin down. Eyes forward.”“Like this?” I asked, attempting to copy him.He circled me slowly. “You look like you’re posing for a fight. Not actually in one.”I jabbed out weakly.He caught my w

Adrik I got to Ivanov Holdings bright and early. Sergei had sent a text at dawn, saying he had information on Yegor Petrov. Some shipments were also due today, and I needed to be on the ground when they docked. Sergei stepped into my office a little after 10am, tossing a file on my desk. “You were right to be suspicious,” he said. “There’s more to Yegor Petrov than we thought.” I flipped open the folder—and froze. Matteo Greco. I looked up slowly. “What the hell is this?” Sergei folded his arms. “Petrov was an alias. A damn good one. His real name was Matteo Greco. Ex-Camorra enforcer, went off the radar years ago after a job went sideways in Naples.” My jaw clenched. “So he faked his identity?” Sergei nodded. “And someone helped him do it. The name ‘Petrov’ only started appearing in official records two months before your mother was killed. Before that? Nothing. No immigration records, no work history. Just… air.” “And you’re telling me no one noticed thi

Viktor Morocco was such a beautiful country, the locals were warm and friendly, the food was a bit too spicy for me, and the women? They had the best bodies and warmest pussies I had ever fucked. I had been laying low in Morocco for about three months and honestly I didn't feel the need to go back to New York yet. My burner phone buzzed on the stool beside the pool. I answered on the first ring. “Talk.” Matteo’s voice floated into my ears. Low and cautious. “Diana called me.” That made me sit forward. “And?” “She asked me to dig into Vincenzo’s inner circle. She showed me old letters that her friend Sera found. Apparently, Emilia and Yelena were friends. Emilia mentioned someone in one of the letters, a man she couldn't trust.” I paused. My fingers tightening around the neck of the woman that was currently riding my cock. “Does she suspect anything?” Matteo exhaled. “No, she trusts me. She thinks I’m trying to help her.” “Good,” I murmured. “Keep her close. Feed her b