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Lahat ng Kabanata ng A Taste of the Bratva King: Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

158 Kabanata

21

Sergei"We're done here.""You bet we are."I ignore his comment. I pay the bill without another word, walking through the restaurant with Jesse trailing behind. The summer night air hits us like a wall of heat as we exit into the parking lot.Our cars are parked side by side— my BMW and his pristine Mercedes, both symbols of success built on blood money. I stop beside my driver's door, keys in hand, but I don't open it."Jesse." My voice carries across the empty space between us. "One last chance. Pay back the money you stole and walk away. Then we never see each other again."He looks confused, like he can't believe I'm still pushing after his threats. "I thought we just went through this.""I won't say it again. Be smart and walk away without consequences.""Be smart?" Jesse's arrogance returns full force, transforming his features into something ugly and unfamiliar. "No, you be smart, you fucking cunt. Threaten me once more and I'll expose you to the cops and ruin your life. You u

22

SergeiI wake with my neck twisted at an angle that would cripple a normal man.The leather couch in my office served as my bed for exactly four hours. The city beyond my windows is already alive with morning traffic, but all I can think about is the weight of Jesse's body sliding down his Mercedes, the wet sound his final breath made.My hands don't shake as I pour coffee from yesterday's pot. Cold, bitter, perfect for a man who killed his business partner just hours ago. The vodka bottle on my desk is empty— I spent the rest of the night trying to wash the taste of blood from my mouth.It didn't work.I'm reviewing the financial damage Jesse's theft will cause when Viktor crashes through my door like a fucking hurricane. No knock, no greeting, just pure dramatic bullshit. His face is flushed with excitement, eyes bright with something that looks dangerously close to satisfaction."Yevgeniy is dead," he announces, like he's delivering Christmas morning news.The shock on Jesse's face

23

TamaraI've been waiting in Room Five for nearly an hour, and the anticipation is killing me.Tonight feels different. I feel different. The steam from my shower still clings to the air, mixing with the familiar scent of sandalwood and roses that makes this space feel like a sanctuary. But I'm not here for sanctuary anymore. I'm here for him.For TMG. The man I've thought about every night since my first time here, my fingers finding myself in the darkness while imagining his hands, his mouth, his body claiming mine.Viktor is gone. Really, truly gone this time. And with him went the last thread connecting me to the woman who apologized for taking up space, who minimized her own pain to make others comfortable. That woman died in a parking lot outside this very building, buried under the weight of accusations and dismissed suffering.The woman sitting here now— draped in nothing but a silk robe that whispers against my bare skin— wants something different. Something real. Something th

24

TamaraHis fingers work inside me with devastating precision, curling against a spot deep inside that makes my thigh muscles strain and my vision blur. His thumb finds my clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen bud as he finger-fucks me toward oblivion."Come for me," he commands against my throat, teeth scraping sensitive skin.I don't need more encouragement. The orgasm crashes through me like a tidal wave, my pussy clamping down hard on his fingers as waves of pleasure tear through my core."Oh! God, yes! Fuck!" I scream as my body convulses against his hand.Before the aftershocks fade, he's reaching for something from the table beside us. A condom wrapper tears in the dim light, and I watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he rolls the latex down his impressive length with practiced movements."Ready?" he says, positioning himself between my spread thighs. The head of his cock nudges against my entrance, hot and demanding."Yes." The word comes out as a broken whisper. "I've n

25

SergeiThe guilt eats at me as I drive through Boston's sleeping streets.My hands shake against the steering wheel— not from fear, but from the weight of what I've done. What I've felt.The woman from Room Five. Her skin under my hands, the connection that burned through me like live wire. I've never experienced anything like it— raw, honest, spiritual in ways that sex has never been before.And that makes it worse.Masha gave me permission. Told me that she understood men have needs, that she wouldn't ask questions as long as I remained discreet. But permission doesn't erase the sense of betrayal.It wasn't supposed to feel like that. It was supposed to be release— physical, meaningless, forgettable. Instead, it was everything I didn't know I was searching for, wrapped in lace and candlelight and the kind of trust I don't deserve.Chert voz'mi!I broke every rule I've ever set for myself.The VanishMe information burns in my memory. Giving her access to me outside those walls, outsi

26

SergeiThe minutes crawl by like hours. I can't even touch her— this is a crime scene now, evidence that needs to be preserved. But I can't look away either, watching the final movements of a child I'll never hold, never teach to throw a punch or speak Russian or navigate the ugly realities of our world.I pace beside her, eyes fixed to her belly as I rake my hands through my hair and try not to roar in sheer fucking frustration and helplessness. By the time the sirens pierce the night air, the movement has nearly stopped.No!Bozhe moy, please, no!Paramedics flood my living room with equipment and urgency. They work over Masha like seasoned professionals, checking for vitals, attempting resuscitation procedures. But I've encountered death enough times to know the grim truth. Truth that is written all over the paramedics' faces— the grim set of their mouths, the way they avoid my eyes while going through the motions."Is the baby..." I can't finish the question I already know the ans

27

TamaraThe morning after feels like swimming through honey— everything slow, thick, weighted with the memory of his hands on my skin.I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back in Room Five, feeling the heat of his mouth against my throat, the way he filled me so completely I forgot my own name.My body hums with a restless energy that has nothing to do with exhaustion. Even now, twelve hours later, I can feel the ghost of his touch between my thighs.I ended up touching myself again in the darkness of my bedroom, fingers working frantically as I replayed every moment. The memory of his thick length stretching me open, the low growl he made when I clenched around him. I came so hard I had to bite my pillow to muffle the sound, but it wasn't enough. Nothing will ever be enough now that I know what real desire feels like.He's awakened something in me I didn't know existed. Some desperate part of myself that craves his possession like oxygen. The slip of paper with his Vani

28

TamaraMy hands shake as I pull out my phone, dialing 911 with fingers that feel disconnected from my body. The operator's voice sounds like it's coming from underwater, professional and calm while my world crumbles around me."I need an ambulance," I hear myself saying. "My mother... alcohol poisoning, I think. And shock. She's in shock."The next ten minutes stretch like hours. I hold Mom while she alternates between sobbing and staring into nothing, her body limp with grief and vodka. She keeps repeating the same words—"He's dead, baby. Your daddy's dead"—like a broken record stuck on the most devastating track imaginable.Dad is dead.The words echo in my skull, but they feel foreign, impossible. Just days ago, I was worried about telling him about my endometriosis. Just days ago, he was the solid foundation of my world, the man who could fix anything, explain anything, make everything better with his presence alone.Now he's... gone?The ambulance arrives in a blur of flashing li

29

TamaraThe antiseptic smell burns my nostrils as I watch my mother's chest rise and fall beneath thin hospital blankets.I've been here sixteen hours straight, my body folded into this uncomfortable chair that's probably seen more vigils than anyone should have to keep. The fluorescent lights overhead cast everything in harsh, unforgiving tones that make Mom look smaller than I've ever seen her.Fragile. Breakable. Human in ways I never wanted to acknowledge.My eyes burn from exhaustion, but I can't sleep. Can't close them without seeing Dad's face the last time we spoke, the way he held me just a beat too long when I left his house. Like he was memorizing the moment. Like he already knew.How did I miss it? How did I not see that he was drowning?The machines around Mom's bed beep with a steady rhythm, monitoring vitals that crashed when the news hit her. When the police called to say they'd found Jesse Yevgeniy's body. When suicide became the word that shattered what was left of ou

30

TamaraThe hospital parking lot stretches before me like concrete purgatory, cars glinting under the harsh afternoon sun.I sit behind the wheel of my Honda, engine off, keys dangling from fingers that won't stop trembling. The silence presses against my eardrums, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the rhythmic beeping of some medical alarm filtering through the hospital windows above.No matter how hard I try to process all of this, nothing sinks in. Twenty million dollars in debt. Dad's secrets. The house we'll lose. The life we thought we knew— all of it built on lies I never saw coming.My father is dead.The words echo in my skull, refusing to feel real despite Jason's words, despite the hours I've spent watching Mom fall apart.I press the heels of my palms against my eyes until stars explode behind my lids, but the pressure can't stop the tears from coming. They fall hot and fast, carrying with them all the conversations we'll never have, all the moments he'll miss,

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