HIGHEST BIDDER

A BILLIONAIRE BOSS ROMANCE

K.C. CROWNE
Copyright © 2023 by K.C. Crowne
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means,
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 CONTENTS

Also by K.C. Crowne

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Epilogue
Irish King (Preview)

About the Author

 ALSO BY K.C. CROWNE

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 DESCRIPTION

It started with a million dollar bid for a night alone with him.

He's dark, commanding, and the most desirable man I've ever met.
In fact my mysterious bidder had me wanting to do things I'd never admit.
And I did them willingly, secure in the thought I'd never see him again.

Boy was I wrong.

Horribly wrong.

"Good morning! Welcome to CyberFort Security. The CEO will be here to

greet you shortly."

A few moments pass before a familiar baritone voice has me praying last
night was only a dream.

"Ms. Foster."

I'm now standing face to face with my bidder! My body immediately tenses
up.

He clenches his jaw in frustration. If there's one thing I know about this man -
nothing is more important to him than control. And I've just unintentionally
thrown the billionaire CEO of Cyberfort for a godd*mn loop. A man that's
known to run his company with a hard hand and questionable ethics.

I need this job more than I care to admit but can I ever feel safe around
him or am I just a pawn in a deadly game?
A game that involves me doing everything in my power to protect the
baby growing inside me.
CHAPTER 1
 AURORA

“B ut why do I have to be nude?” I ask, thoroughly confused.

Charlotte huffs. At least, she tries to. The sound comes out as
more of a snort than anything thanks to her clogged sinuses and droopy nose.
She sneezes into a tissue, shivering as she clutches her throw blanket.
“It’s performance art,” she says, her voice nasally. “The servers and the
guests are supposed to be equal in order to show how we’re all human
underneath it all.”
“Blow your nose, babe. I can hardly understand you.”
My roommate groans. “Pretty please? I already said I would go.”
“Call in sick.”
“The gig pays a thousand bucks. I need the cash or else I can’t make
rent.”
I laugh softly, swooping in from the kitchen with a piping hot cup of
ginger tea. I hand it to her and watch her attempt to breathe in the steam.
“Well, I do want you to make rent,” I tease, earning myself a pointed,
though tired, glare.
“Aurora, I swear to God—”
“I don’t know, Cee. This is… extreme, to say the least. Nude serving? I
mean, come on.”
“Priscilla Kelp is a very famous performance artist. She’s eccentric, but
her work is always tasteful. Besides, I don’t think it’s nude nude. You’ll be
clothed in lace and stuff. Clothes are optional, that’s all. Besides, the guest
list is heavily vetted. You’re not gonna get any creeps in there, I promise.
Nobody’s allowed to bring their phones, so you don’t have to worry about
pictures and stuff.”
 “I’m going to have to take your word for it.”
Charlotte squirms in her spot on the couch, her forehead shiny with sweat
and matted red hair. I’ve already given her a few of my extra sweaters to toss
on for warmth, but she still shivers like it’s zero below in our quaint, two-
bedroom apartment. Charlotte is the only person I know who gets sick in the
middle of summertime.
Our apartment is underwhelming in every sense of the word. Ugly
popcorn ceilings, mute beige walls, creaking wooden floorboards. Most of
our furniture is mismatched, discovered at the local consignment store or
fortuitously swiped from the curbside. It’s cramped, not to mention stupidly
overpriced. Then again, you’d be hard pressed to find a place in New York
City that could be classified as affordable. Don’t get me wrong, we get by
comfortably enough, but a lot of Charlotte’s money is the result of
inconsistent modeling work, and some months the paltry sum I earn
freelancing is next to non-existent.
In an ideal world, I would be in California working with the giants.
Microsoft or Google, to be exact. It’s been my dream ever since writing my
first line of code to work for some of the biggest tech giants in the world. The
four years I spent dedicating my time to computer engineering at MIT should
have made it easier to get my foot in the door.
Unfortunately, everyone and their mother with an MIT degree has the
exact same line of thinking. Competition is stiff at the top, and while I’m
exceedingly good at what I do, I didn’t quite make the cut. I made it through
three stages of interviews only to receive a politely worded, clearly
impersonal rejection letter.
Dear Aurora Foster, Thank you for your time, but after further
consideration, yada yada yada…
I was thankfully able to land myself a paid internship elsewhere, but that
brought me here, to arguably one of the most expensive cities in the world.
There are worse things than working for CyberFort. It’s a reputable
cybersecurity company with a quickly expanding clientele, and I’m confident
my skillset will be of great use, but I’d be lying if I said it was my first
choice. I’d never say that aloud, of course. Beggars can’t be choosers, and
with the plans I’m saving up for, I really need every penny I can get my
hands on.
“Everyone’s gonna wear masks and stuff,” Charlotte continues after a
swallow of tea. Her voice comes out a bit clearer, steadier. The hot drink
must be helping. “And if you’re really uncomfortable, you can just leave after
you get paid…in cash.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Just ask Priscilla’s
personal assistant for the money beforehand.”
“This sounds an awful lot like one of those creepy sex parties I read about
the other day.” I anxiously spin my mother’s wedding ring around my finger,
one of the only keepsakes I have left of hers.
“You need to spend less time on the internet, my friend,” Charlotte
counters.
“I’m a programmer. The internet is my second home.”
“It’s obviously going to sound fucking ridiculous when you say it out
loud like that.”
I inhale slowly. The more I think about it, the less weird it all seems.
Maybe Charlotte’s finally rubbing off me.
The Big Apple is no stranger to eccentric artists. I don’t know the first
thing about Priscilla Kelp, though I’ll admit the name does sound vaguely
familiar.
Charlotte takes a deep breath. “I know this is a huge favor to ask—”
“Humongous,” I correct.
“But you fit my description perfectly. We’re the same height, same size,
same hair color. I know they hired me through my agency, but I guarantee
you Priscilla won’t notice the difference. Stick to a corner, serve a few
glasses of champagne, and—” she paused to sneeze “—then you’re paid and
outta there!”
“My internship starts tomorrow,” I stress. “I need a full night’s sleep. You
know, start the day off on the right foot or whatever?”
“If you do this favor for me, I’ll do your laundry for a whole week.”
I shrug. “I have like four rotating outfits. It’s not exactly a herculean
task.”
Charlotte crinkles her nose. “I really need to take you shopping, but fine.
How about I do the dishes for the whole week instead?”
“The whole month,” I barter.
She sighs, throwing her head back. Her mouth falls open, a strangled
groan rising from her chest. “Okay! God, you’re the worst.”
I beam at her, reaching for her mug. “I guess you don’t want this, then.”
Charlotte clings to her tea. “No, shoo. I want it.”
“Send me a pin for the address before I change my mind.”
“Thank you, Aurora. You’re a lifesaver.”
 “I know,” I say, tossing her a wink. “Now, tell me, do I have to show up
nude? Or is it an arrive-and-change-into-uniform sort of deal? Should I
shave? How does this work? I have so many questions.”
“Come as you are,” my best friend says after another sneeze. Poor thing
needs to take her medicine in an hour. “That’s what Priscilla said, anyway.
She wants to appreciate the human form.”
I sigh, moving through the narrow hall to return to my bedroom.
“Ridiculous,” I say, mumbling to myself.
I shift through my things quickly, snatching up my backpack and sweater,
pausing for a moment in front of my wardrobe mirror. It’s not like I’m a
prude or anything. If people want to get buck naked together at an event, who
am I to judge? Well, okay. That’s a lie. I’m judging a little.
Even dressed in my dark blue jeans and loose black shirt, I can appreciate
my figure. I like the roundness of my hips and the dips of my waist. Not to
mention I have long legs and a slightly shorter torso that give the illusion that
I’m taller than my five-foot-six. Charlotte tells me all the time that if my
career as a software engineer doesn’t work out, I have a good chance of being
picked up as a model at her agency—but only with her referral, of course.
I’m slightly comforted by the anonymity of the event. Charlotte
mentioned something about masks and lace? I suppose I might feel a bit
braver, more comfortable with this whole nude serving thing if I’m allowed
to hide my face. With a thousand bucks on the line and rent due in a few
days, I tell myself to suck it up. People can look all they want. I have nothing
to hide. And if someone dares to touch me, I’ll scream bloody murder. It’s
really that simple.
My phone dings in my back pocket. Charlotte sent me the address.
“The Ritz?” I squawk. “They’re hosting a naked art gala at the Ritz?”
“I told you,” Charlotte coughs weakly from the living room. “It’s a fancy
gig. Lots of VIPs or whatever. You’re not gonna get any creeps.”
“Or I’m gonna get a lot of rich creeps who think the rules don’t apply to
them,” I grumble.
Casting my reflection one last look, I pull on my sweater and sling my
backpack over my shoulder. I just need to keep my head down and hopefully
avoid looking straight at anyone else or their… parts.
I take my mother’s wedding ring off and stash it in my jewelry box. I’d
rather not lose it at some weird nudist party. The sooner I get this over with,
the sooner I can block it from my mind and never talk about it again. Ever.
CHAPTER 2
 MIKHAIL

T he sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can block it from my mind
and never talk about it again. Ever.
I would really rather be anywhere else, but I’ve been trying to corner
Jonathan Young for almost a year. According to his private secretary, his
schedule is jam packed. No free weekends, no spare lunch breaks. I call
bullshit. He’s either the most in-demand man on Wall Street, or he’s lying to
me. I know for a fact the former isn’t true.
And I fucking hate it when people lie to me.
To be honest, I would have sent one of my brothers to try to close Young,
but I worry they lack the finesse.
Dimitri, loud-mouthed and brash, would have a hard time focusing with
that wandering eye of his. There are too many distractions here to tempt and
derail him from the task at hand.
Pyotr, my younger brother and Dimitri’s twin, would fare no better in the
art of the deal. He barely speaks to any of us as it is—he’s never been much
of a conversationalist—so I can’t imagine him having enough charm to sway
Young into signing a contract.
And last, but not least, there’s Luka. I know as well as anyone that my
youngest brother would rather work behind the scenes. It’s what he’s best at,
after all.
So, by process of elimination, the job is up to me. There’s a reason I have
a closing rate of 100%, and Mr. Young is about to find out why first-hand.
I move through the penthouse suite with an easy air, paying no mind to all
the bare skin on display. I, too, am stripped down, save for the black mask
over my eyes provided to me at the door. A few guests and servers opted not
to reveal their full birthday suit; they’re dressed in sheer lace lingerie to cover
themselves—though it leaves little to the imagination.
Credit where credit is due, Priscilla Kelp has an excellent security system
in place. All her email invites were encrypted, information about her guests
kept under lock and key… But it wasn’t quite good enough to keep Luka out.
He managed to break through her cybersecurity in under an hour, which gave
him more than enough time to make a last-minute adjustment to her guest
list. With over a hundred guests, it was unlikely she’d notice my name being
added.
I don’t really understand what’s going on here. It’s supposed to be
performance art, but I’m not entirely sure what Priscilla is trying to say. If
there’s some deeply poetic meaning behind asking everyone to embrace their
exposure, then it’s totally lost on me, as I’m sure it is on many of the other
guests here. Judging by the lingering gazes and curious stares, the people
here are more interested in their own exhibitionism than being a part of an art
experience.
“Hello, handsome,” a woman’s sultry voice floats into my ear. She
strokes my arm while wearing a mischievous little grin, a tall glass of
champagne in her other hand. Her green eyes roam the expanse of my body
as she nibbles her bottom lip, clearly appreciative of the view. She stands tall
and proud, her whole body on display. “How are you enjoying the show?
Feel like joining me at the refreshments table?”
While the woman is very pretty, I’m not here to mingle. I only have one
person on my mind, and he just so happens to be seated on the couch in front
of the penthouse suite’s electric fireplace. Young is alone, contently sipping a
glass of red wine. He sits there like he’s a fucking king, much too proud for
my liking. This is the perfect opportunity for me to strike. I pretend not to
hear the woman and keep going, taking a seat next to Young on the couch.
“Business dinner my ass,” I grumble, looking about the space.
“Excuse me?” he bristles. Young’s eyes widen when he realizes who I
am. “Antonov? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Lower your voice before you make a scene.”
My unsuspecting prey shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his hands falling
awkwardly to his lap to cover his indecent exposure. All his charm and
bravado has suddenly flown straight out the window, and I have no doubt it’s
in part because he’s seated next to me. I’m tall, cut, and hung like a horse. By
comparison, I make the poor man look pathetically stout, chubby, and
necessitating the use of a magnifying glass.
“What do you want?” Young asks sharply. He averts his gaze, clearly
caught out.
“A meeting,” I state simply.
“Here? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I offered to take this meeting at Jean-Georges, but you kept dodging my
calls. This is on you.”
“How did you even know I would be here?” Young scoffs, his cheeks a
vibrant, humiliated shade of crimson.
The corner of my lip tugs up into a smug smile. “It wasn’t difficult. I
hacked into your private calendar.”
“Why the hell—”
“—would I do that?” I interject. “To prove a point, Mr. Young. You need
CyberFort. Clearly the deal you have with your current company isn’t
working. If I can gain access to your private information, imagine what your
business rivals could achieve. They could tank your stock portfolio in an
afternoon. Hell, maybe a couple of hours if they feel ambitious. Sign on as
my client, and I guarantee no one will be able to breach your confidential
data ever again.”
“You son of a bitch.”
His insult slides right off me, but I’m nowhere near finished with him. If
I’m going to close this sale, I need to apply pressure where it hurts.
“Imagine if your information were to leak onto the web,” I continue
casually, watching the artificial flicker of red and orange flames on the
electric fireplace before me. It pumps out heat steadily to keep the party’s
underdressed guests from being uncomfortably cold. “I bet it’d make the
front page. Jonathan Young, Caught with His Pants Down. I wonder what
your wife will think.”
He presses his lips into a thin line, his hands clenched. “This is going too
far, Mikhail. It’s blackmail!”
“Blackmail,” I echo, mildly amused. “I prefer to call it business.”
“I’ll go to the press,” he insists. “I’ll call the cops.”
“If that’s what you want. I won’t stop you. Although, I wonder what
they’ll say when they learn about your whereabouts. I’m sure they’ll have a
lot of questions as to why you were here of all places. Good luck explaining
your way out of that.”
Young pauses. I don’t think he’s breathing. “All of this just so I’ll sign a
contract with your company? You’re insane.”
I shrug, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. Maybe I am.
“What are your terms?” he grumbles bitterly.
“A five-year exclusive contract for all of Young & Martin, along with its
subsidiary companies.”
“How much?”
“Five million per annum.”
“Christ.”
“You’re more than welcome to decline, Mr. Young. Maybe I’ll slip
someone at the New York Times Priscilla Kelp’s guest list. Maybe your
name will be highlighted. Who knows?”
“Fine, fine. Good God, have you no shame?”
I relax in my seat, spreading my arms and legs out comfortably. Clearly
not. “I’ll have my secretary forward you the paperwork. I expect to see your
signature by tomorrow evening.”
“Fuck you, Antonov,” Young hisses as he stands in a hurry, scurrying
away to make a hasty exit.
I take a deep breath. My work here is done. Now it’s time to get the hell
out of here. As much as I appreciate all the beautiful women in attendance,
I’ve got more pressing matters to attend to. Important emails to reply to,
meetings to schedule, a team of five hundred employees to manage. A normal
man would celebrate landing a big contract like this one, but the competition
never sleeps, and therefore, neither do I.
Just as I’m about to stand and leave, the lights of the penthouse suite dim.
Someone clinks their champagne glass with the back of their knife, gathering
everyone’s attention. Standing at the front of the main room is a tiny woman,
no taller than four-seven. She has long raven hair that flows freely over her
shoulders, so long the ends brush the backs of her heels. She is as naked as
the rest of us, her wrinkles and folds proudly on display.
“Thank you all for coming,” Priscilla Kelp says. Her smile may be sweet,
but her eyes are uncomfortably cold. Glazed over. Like the weight of the
world rests on her tiny shoulders. There’s an air of aloofness to her—
something simultaneously regal and snobbish. Priscilla embodies her
eccentricity well.
“I hope you are all having an enlightening experience about the human
form and the base equality we share,” she continues, looking about the room
with ease. “There are so many non-verbal indicators used in today’s society
to separate ourselves into rich and poor. We are accustomed to showing off
our wealth with exorbitant accessories or brand labels. Some of us get about
driving in private cars. But the only difference between upper and lower class
is the numbers we hold in our bank account. Strip that all away, and what do
you get? Your fellow man.”
I continue to make my way to the exit. This whole thing is so fucking
stupid. Tacky, even. Priscilla Kelp could have easily made her point by
asking us to all hold hands in a chain and sing Kumbaya instead of stripping
us down. Her cringy one-world-one-love bullshit isn’t going to work on me.
Unfortunately, her little spiel seems to be working wonders on the rest of her
guests. They stand with drinks in their hands, their expressions reverent.
Ridiculous.
“Now, for the main event,” Priscilla continues. “In order to raise funds for
the creation of my performance art school for inner city kids, we will be
holding an auction. I have a handful of volunteers here, all of them waitstaff.
I encourage you to bid for an hour of their time so you might converse with
them and learn about their lives as the working lower class.”
I almost scoff aloud. Does this woman even hear herself when she talks?
She’s contradicting herself. One second, she wants us to understand we’re all
equal, and in the next breath, she’s calling the servers lower class. Talk about
demeaning. I’ve had enough of this shit.
I’m about to ask the doorman to retrieve my clothes when something
peculiar catches my eye. Priscilla has arranged a few of her servers in a line
at the front of the room. They’re all very pretty, modelesque… Except for the
young woman at the very end.
This one is breathtaking.
Fiery red curls, so thick and luscious my fingers itch to touch it. She is by
far the most concealed, dressed in white lace lingerie that covers the peaks of
her breasts and the apex of her thighs. Her skin looks incredibly soft in the
dim mood lighting, though her eyes sparkle a brilliant blue. My gaze rakes
over the curve of her hips and thick thighs, hunger stirring in the pit of my
stomach.
A part of me wants to go up there and bite her. Leave my mark. On the
crook of her neck, on her ass. I’m not sure why she’s piqued my interest. My
heart pounds and my cock begins to strain. Maybe because she’s the only one
here not on full display. She’s like a gift on Christmas morning, wrapped up
tight. It makes me want to march up there and rip the lace off with my teeth. I
need to know what her voice sounds like. I want to study the shape of her
lips. I crave the knowledge of her name.
The young woman doesn’t stand with the same confidence as the rest of
her peers, her body language closed off and timid. Her eyes shift from left to
right, the slight tremble of her shoulders catching my attention. A deer caught
in the headlights; a kitten left out in the rain. It’s clear she wants to be
anywhere but here.
“We’ll start the auction on this side,” Priscilla says, gesturing to a man on
the other end of my poor kisa.
As much as I want her all to myself, I want to hide her away, too. One
look around the room and it’s apparent she’s caught the attention of quite a
few guests. I grind my teeth, ignoring the burn in the back of my throat. I’ve
already made my decision. The only one who’s going to get an hour of her
time is me.
It’s time to break out my checkbook.
CHAPTER 3
 AURORA

I hate it here and I want to go home.

Serving drinks and hors d’oeuvres the whole evening was fine. Weird,
but fine. I’ve put extra effort into making eye contact with everyone I come
across to keep from seeing anyone’s bits. And like Charlotte suggested, I
picked a nice, quiet corner with little to no foot traffic to avoid the worst of it.
And then Priscilla Kelp, the performance artist herself, took me by the
hand and dragged me to the front of the room.
I would have protested, but I was too confused to say anything. Now
there’s no escape. Not with a hundred different pairs of eyes on me,
appraising me like an item for auction. I am an item for auction. While
Priscilla says my time and conversation are up for grabs, I don’t trust anyone
here to keep their hands to themselves.
My mind spirals. None of the other servers seem particularly worried, but
that doesn’t stop me from freaking out internally. This better not be some
creepy cult sex trafficking thing, because it’s definitely giving off that vibe. I
glance toward the exit. Could I leg it out of here before the auction line up
gets to me? Shit. I still haven’t gotten paid, though.
I make a mental note to berate the hell out of Charlotte when I get home.
If I get home.
There are five of us in line. I don’t have much time to escape. If only I
could find an opening that didn’t require me elbowing past a bunch of dicks
and boobs—officially the weirdest thought to ever cross my mind.
“This is Johnny,” Priscilla says, introducing the server on the other end of
the line. “He’s an EMT by day and waiter by night. I’m sure he has many
interesting stories to share. Let’s start the bid at five thousand.”
 A particularly horny lady near the back of the room lifts her hand.
Someone raises the bid to six. The first woman offers seven. The back and
forth continues until the bidding war comes to an end.
“Fifteen thousand,” Priscilla announces with glee. “You can make your
check out to the Priscilla Kelp Foundation. Thank you very much for
supporting the creative endeavors of inner-city youth.”
The next server, a model with gorgeous blonde locks and vibrant green
eyes, earns well over double. The one after that manages to bring in only
eight. I’m strangely embarrassed for him. It’s by no means a low sum, but
compared to the others?
It occurs to me with increasing alarm that my turn is quickly approaching.
My stomach twists into knots. Oh, God. What if the same thing happens to
me? What if nobody wants to shell out that kind of cash? I mean, I wouldn’t
exactly blame them. A sane person wouldn’t dole out thousands of dollars for
an hour-long conversation, to which I probably have nothing to contribute.
Yet the longer I think about it, the more humiliated I feel. I don’t want
anybody to bid on me because I’m not a piece of meat, but I think I’d also be
mortified if they didn’t.
I suck in a sharp breath, dizzy and shaking uncontrollably. This whole
scenario is ridiculous. Priscilla Kelp is a fucking hack and hypocrite. She
claims she wants us to see we’re all human, yet here she is, having one group
place value on another like we’re nothing more than cattle. Doesn’t she see
the irony? I don’t give a shit if it’s in the name of art. I’ve never felt more
dehumanized.
“And this is…” Priscilla walks up to me, places a hand on my shoulder.
My entire body is rigid. “Sorry, dear. What was your name again?”
I swallow hard, my mouth unbearably dry. “Charlotte,” I lie. There’s no
way in hell I’m giving out my real name. Besides, this was supposed to be
Charlotte’s gig.
“Charlotte,” she says with a dramatic wave of her hand. “Tell me, what’s
your day job?”
I don’t want to answer. Hell, I don’t even want to be here. My first
instinct is to tell the truth, but then I think against it. Nobody here actually
wants to get to know me. Even if I did, I refuse to give out personal
information. I decide to make something up on the spot.
“I’m an OnlyFans model,” I say, my words burning with my indignation.
I feel like being brash, crass. Screw these high society snobs and their weird
naked parties and their fake altruistic causes. I’ll really give them something
to talk about. Hopefully I can freak these assholes out enough to leave me the
hell alone, then I can pick up Charlotte’s paycheck and be on my merry way.
“An… OnlyFans model?” Priscilla echoes. “I’m not too sure what that
is.”
“Feet pics,” I continue unapologetically. I can tell I’m ruffling a few
feathers by the way the party guests murmur to one another, sharing
scandalous comments and whispers. “I sell feet pics to anonymous people
online to pay my bills. Sometimes I masturbate on camera and sell the
video.”
“Oh my, that’s—”
“You know how it is. Life’s hard sometimes, but I’m tenacious. Sex work
is still work, after all.”
Somewhere in the back of the room, I hear a man laugh. It’s a deep voice,
rich and loud, though the room is too dim for me to pinpoint his exact
location. My cheeks burn bright red. I don’t think I want to know who’s
laughing at me, either way.
“Well, that’s… interesting,” Priscilla says with an uncomfortable chuckle.
“Uh… We’ll begin the bid at one thousand. Any takers?”
The silence that follows makes me want to crumple up in a ball, but I
refuse to let these people see me break. I’ve made them uncomfortable.
Good. Still, there’s no denying the sting of having people think I’m not worth
a measly grand. They’ve been shelling out top dollar all evening, and my
time isn’t even worth a fraction of the other models?
Screw them.
“Ten thousand,” a man’s voice cuts through the quiet.
My heart skips a beat. Ex-fucking-scuse me? Ten thousand, even after the
stunt I just pulled? I almost roll my eyes. Do these rich pricks really have
nothing better to do than throw their money away?
“Eleven,” someone else chirps. It’s a woman this time.
“Fifteen,” a different man announces.
Uh oh. Please don’t tell me they’re about to start a bidding war. My fake
backstory was supposed to scare them off, but when I scan the faces of the
crowd, all I see is intrigue. I really shouldn’t have mentioned something as
lewd as masturbating for money. I sincerely hope they don’t think they’re
going to get a show. Dear God, I really shouldn’t have said anything at all. I
knew they were a bunch of eccentric freaks. My plan backfired hard.
 “Twenty!”
“Forty!”
“A hundred thousand,” the first man to bid says clearly. A murmur of
excitement passes through the party guests. Things are getting too serious.
My legs are jelly, and my knees are seconds from buckling out from
under me. Holy shit, did I hear that right? I think I might be sick.
“Two hundred,” someone else adds.
“Three.”
Yep, I’m definitely going to be sick. Who on Earth would spend that kind
of money on me?
“Three-fifty!”
“Five hundred—”
“One million.” I recognize his voice now. It’s the first man who bid on
me.
My chest seizes. One million dollars for an hour of my time? Who the
hell is this guy?
Several long beats pass. Nobody else makes a bid. How could they after a
massive jump like that?
Priscilla Kelp claps her hands, looking pleased as punch. I’d be happy,
too, if I just made a million plus change for my uncredited performance arts
school.
“Thank you all so much for your support,” she says. “Please, right this
way. The rest of you, enjoy the rest of your evenings.”
I’m quickly swept away, confused and still a little dazed by everything
that’s happened. I’m guided to one of the many lavish rooms in the penthouse
suite. My skin suddenly feels very hot, the tips of my fingers and toes
uncomfortably numb. Is this really happening? I mean, surely nothing bad
will happen. There are tons of witnesses just on the other side of the doors.
Besides, if my mystery bidder tries anything funny, I at least have a couple
years’ worth of self-defense classes under my belt.
I’m left waiting for a few minutes. Or maybe it’s hours. I really can’t tell,
too focused on the anxious skip of my heart. What’s taking this guy so long?
I just want to get this next hour over with. If he keeps me waiting any longer,
I might very well dip and go home. I’ll cover Charlotte’s half of the rent out
of what little there is in my savings account if I have to. This whole thing was
such a stupid mistake.
Pacing back and forth in the room, I fiddle with my hair. It’s a wild,
overheated mess of ringlets. I pull uncomfortably at my barely there lingerie,
praying everything is covered. Should I sit down? Or should I stand? What
does this guy even want to talk about? Do I have anything worth saying?
The door to the room creaks open.
I turn, sucking in a sharp breath.
In steps a man. My mystery bidder. Until now, my mind was running
wild with speculation, trying and failing to fabricate an image of who he was.
My jaw drops open when I see him. My imagination could never have
predicted the silver fox who walks in.
He is arguably the sexiest man I have ever seen in my entire life.
He stands roughly a foot and a half taller than me with a wide chest and
strong shoulders. There’s grey in his hair and beard, both of which are
trimmed and neatly groomed. He’s muscular, but not bulky in the gross
bodybuilder kind of way. Tanned skin pulled taut over rolling muscles,
accentuating the bulge of his arms, his strong thighs, and his chiseled abs.
Like all the other party guests, he’s completely nude save for the black mask
he wears over his eyes. Naturally, my eyes are immediately drawn to his
cock. I swallow, my breath catching in my throat. To say he’s well-endowed
would be doing him a disservice. He looks like a Greek statue, every inch of
him carved to perfection.
I press my knees together, ignoring the blooming wet heat between my
legs. Good grief. Should I say something? Or does he talk first? Whatever the
answer, if I don’t breathe soon, I might pass out.
Without saying a word, the man takes a seat on the available couch,
casually throwing an arm over the back while crossing his legs. His dark
brown eyes sweep over my body. I swear I can almost feel it as he scans my
skin, admires my form. He doesn’t say anything for the longest time, which
makes me exceedingly nervous. I don’t know what to do.
“Well?” he says after a moment. His voice is rich, deep—the lowest
resonating notes of a bass cello. “Take it all off,” he orders.
CHAPTER 4
 MIKHAIL

I read people for a living. My father taught me how to sniff out lies, how to
figure out a person’s tells. It used to serve him very well when he was still
part of the Antonov Bratva. While my brothers and I have distanced
ourselves from that side of the family, my father’s teachings have proven
useful in our line of work. It’s in the eyes, in the body language, in their
choice words.
And that’s exactly why I know my dear Charlotte is full of shit.
“I won’t ask again,” I say flatly. “Take your clothes off.”
She casts her pretty blue eyes to the soft carpet. Avoidant. Then she
crosses her arms over her chest. Defensive. “No,” she mumbles, her voice
soft but firm.
“It’s only fair,” I insist. “You get to see all of me, so I want to see all of
you.”
Charlotte shakes her head. “I said no.”
The corner of my mouth ticks up into a grin. I like her. Very few people
in my life put up this much resistance when I ask things of them—my
brothers excluded, of course. It was obvious from the moment I saw her that
she’s uncomfortable. A fish out of water. She doesn’t belong in this place. I
won’t press her on the issue.
“Why did you do that?” she asks me, chewing on the inside of her cheek.
“Do what?”
“Why would you pay that much money for me?”
It’s a valid question. I didn’t come here with the expectation of blowing a
fifth of what I came here to earn by cornering Young, but I don’t regret it.
The moment she sassed Priscilla, I could feel everyone’s interest in her.
Charlotte’s got spunk. I like that in a woman.
“Bored,” I reply with an easy shrug.
She sets her jaw. “Bored?” she echoes. “You expect me to entertain
you?”
“I don’t expect anything.”
Charlotte’s brows furrow. “Then what are we doing here?”
“Getting to know each other.” I gesture to the empty cushion beside me.
“Get comfortable. We have fifty-eight minutes left on the clock.”
She doesn’t make a move. I decide not to pressure her. There’s intrigue in
her eyes. I’m confident she’ll come to me eventually.
“Is your name really Charlotte?” I ask. “Or did you make it up like the
OnlyFans story?”
Her cheeks flush an adorable shade of pink. “What makes you think I
made it up?”
“The fact that you can barely look me in the eye. I would expect someone
who proclaimed their job so proudly to a room full of strangers to have a bit
more confidence.”
“I don’t owe you my story.”
“No, you don’t.”
She nibbles on her bottom lip, drawing my attention to her mouth. She
has beautifully plump lips. I have to fight the urge to kiss her, tamping down
the growing craving deep within my core. My cock throbs with arousal every
time her eyes flit down to it, excitement shooting through my veins. I like her
eyes on me, like the dark hunger behind them.
“Sit,” I tell her, my tone as gentle as possible. “I won’t touch you,
Charlotte. I promise.”
She takes a deep breath, staring me down like a panther sizing up a
jaguar. We’re both on edge, the air around us electric. It takes all my
willpower to keep my hands to myself. I’m used to getting what I want, but I
refuse to do anything against her wishes.
I almost breathe a sigh of relief when Charlotte finally strides over and
takes a seat on the other side of the couch. She curls in on herself, tucking her
legs to her chest while resting her chin on her knees, wrapping herself up
with her arms to make her body as small and covered as possible. I can’t help
but notice how divine she smells—like candied peaches.
“What’s your name?” she asks me. The poor girl struggles to keep her
eyes off my cock. The look she’s giving me should really be illegal. I feel my
resolve crumbling with every passing second.
“My family calls me Misha,” I reply. It’s not a lie.
“Misha,” she echoes.
“Only my family calls me that, though.”
The tiniest smirk ghosts across her lips. “You’re going to have to make an
exception for me, then.”
“How old are you?”
“You’re not supposed to ask a lady that question.”
“Humor me.”
She squints at me. “Twenty-two. You?”
“Not twenty-two.”
She huffs, but there isn’t any heat behind the sound. “Asshole.”
I stifle an amused chuckle. “How’d a beautiful young lady such as
yourself end up working here?”
Charlotte shrugs a shoulder, nervously twirling one of her red ringlets
around her finger. Her hair is a brilliant mane, a vibrant halo that stands in
stark contrast to her pale complexion. “Girl’s gotta eat,” she says simply. “To
be honest, I didn’t exactly know what I was signing up for.”
“That much was obvious.”
She rolls her eyes, indignant. “Oh, what? And you’re some patron of the
fine arts?”
“No. I didn’t know what I was signing up for, either.”
“You don’t come to these shindigs often?”
“Never.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” she mutters, raking her eyes over my body. “You
seem to have embraced the optional clothes requirement easily enough.”
“When in Rome.”
The smallest, lightest laugh bubbles past her lips. “I’m the odd duck out.”
“You could fix that, if you wanted.”
She regards me for a moment, her chest rising and falling a bit quicker. I
can almost hear the gears turning in her head. The tension between us is
excruciating, her proximity even more torturous. I want to touch her more
than I want to breathe.
Charlotte uncurls from her balled up position, stretching out one of her
long, smooth legs. I swallow, imagining what it would feel like to run my lips
along her inner thighs.
“Okay,” she mumbles. “But you have to promise to keep your hands to
yourself.”
Oh, fuck. I nod, just once. I can tell I’m in for a real treat.
“You have my word.”
She moves slowly, gracefully as she stands up in front of me. Charlotte
carefully slips out of her lace bra, allowing the straps to slide down her
shoulders first before letting the sheer fabric fall to the floor. Her lace thong
goes next, pooling at her feet.
I am gloriously unprepared for how beautiful she is.
Supple breasts, curvy hips, a peachy ass. The peaks of her nipples are
hard, either from the cold air of the room, her arousal, or perhaps both. What
I wouldn’t give to pop one in my mouth. My cock strains, standing at full
attention. Charlotte notices, licking her lips as she lays eyes upon my
erection.
“There,” she whispers. “Now we’re equal.”
I chuckle. “Maybe there’s merit to Priscilla’s art show, after all.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Have a seat,” I tell her. When I sense her hesitance, I put my hands up in
surrender. “I won’t touch, remember?”
Soothed by my promise, Charlotte moves. I fully expect her to resume her
spot on the couch, so I’m admittedly a little shocked when she languidly
crawls onto my lap and straddles me between her thighs. My heart stutters.
What a little minx.
“Comfortable?” I ask her with a grin.
She settles, hands braced flat against my chest as she allows her weight to
sink down. I can feel the wet heat of her pussy rubbing against my shaft, the
sensation enthralling. I ache for her. I want to bury my cock deep inside her,
have her screaming in pleasure—but I made a promise, and I’m nothing if not
a man of my word.
“Misha, I…” She leans forward, her hips grinding against me. Her eyes
are half hooded with desire; her lips parted just so.
“What is it, kisa?”
“I think…”
Charlotte’s close. So tantalizingly close. I’m on the verge of snapping. I
want to kiss her senseless. Fuck her on the couch, on the floor, have my way
with her. God, what is this woman made of? I haven’t even had a taste of her
and she’s already a very addictive problem.
“Tell me,” I say.
 “I think I wouldn’t mind it… if you wanted to touch me.”
A low growl rips itself from the base of my throat. “Oh? Is that what you
want?”
She nods, her pupils blown wide. “Yeah.”
“Show me,” I tell her. “Where do you want to be touched?”
Charlotte brings a hand up to her chest, running the pad of her thumb over
her nipple and slope of her right breast. “Here,” she moans softly, her mouth
practically ghosting across mine.
“Where else?” I ask, struggling to keep perfectly still. I don’t dare
interrupt her.
She slides the same hand down to graze her belly, gliding down until her
fingers dance across her wet folds. “Here,” she whimpers. The sound of her
voice sends ecstasy coursing through my veins.
“Do you want to feel good, Charlotte?”
She bristles at the sound of her own name, but only for a moment. “Yes,”
she rasps.
“Show me what you like. Touch yourself. I want to watch you.”
She nods, her eyes fluttering closed as she draws tight circles against
herself. Her hips buck as she seeks her own pleasure, her wet folds rubbing
against the top of my shaft. Charlotte’s sweet moans are music to my ears, so
soft and sweet and sultry. I don’t know how I got lucky enough to cross paths
with her, but I’m sure thankful I did.
“T-touch me,” she pleads, breathless. “Please, Misha—”
“No,” I murmur against her cheek. “I promised you.”
“Then break your fucking promise.”
“I’m going to watch you come first. Go on, I know you’re close.”
Charlotte moans, grinding her pussy against my cock in search of friction.
Her fingers brush over her clit once, twice, before her whole body spasms
with pleasure. She’s a sight to behold, every bit magnificent and erotic.
I press my lips to her shoulder. “Beautiful.”
“N-now it’s your turn,” she says, though I don’t miss the catch in her
breath.
“No.”
“But it’s only fair. Don’t you want to?”
“Of course I want to, but not here.”
“Why—”
There’s a knock on the door. “The hour is up!” Priscilla’s voice croons
from the other side. Charlotte stiffens immediately, her face draining of color.
She scurries off my lap, quickly bending to grab her clothes.
“Holy shit,” she gasps, muttering hurriedly to herself. “I can’t believe I
just… Shit, I shouldn’t have—”
“Stay a moment,” I insist. “You’re not leaving already, are you?”
“I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Charlotte—”
“No, my name’s not—Never mind. I need to go home now.”
“Give me your number,” I say quickly.
“Why?”
“So I can call you.”
Charlotte shakes her head, her eyes glued to the floor. “That’s not a good
idea.”
“Wait—”
“Goodbye, Misha.”
Before I’ve even have a chance to blink, Charlotte is gone.
CHAPTER 5
 AURORA

I managed a grand total of two hours’ sleep last night. I’m going to count it
as a win, especially considering I was sure the memories of the night’s
events would keep me awake for all eternity.
He must have put a spell on me. That’s really the only way I can explain
it. One word from him, one tiny command… That was all it took for me to
unravel. His voice was intoxicating, a drug I couldn’t resist. Misha created a
wonderfully warm haze in my mind. We were strangers, yet I’d never felt
safer. With his instructions and heady gaze alone, he made me feel
unbelievably sexy and desired and at a total loss of control.
I don’t regret it, but I kind of do. As strange as our encounter was, I feel
bitter about the fact that we didn’t have more time together. The curious cat
in me wants to know what would happen after. How far would I have let him
go? Should I have told him my name? Given him my number?
I guess there’s no turning back now. The chances of us running into each
other again are slim to none. I’ll admit it was fun while it lasted. I can’t deny
his charm, his mystique, his power.
Beautiful.
I wish I could spend the rest of the daydreaming about him, but I’m
unfortunately running late for my first day. After a quick fifteen-minute rinse,
I throw myself into a pair of jeans and bright red sweater. I grab a cup of
black coffee from the local Starbucks and chug it, scalding my throat as I race
through the streets to get to the nearest subway station. The train is crowded
and stuffy, making the sweat I’d worked up ten times worse. By the time I
come barreling through the front doors of CyberFort HQ, I look like a
madwoman.
 “Hello, dear,” a little old lady greets me at the front desk. A name plate
sits just in front of her neatly organized pens: Merrybell. She’s got a sweet
smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she beams. Her white hair is pulled
up in a respectable bun, a pair of square glasses making her green eyes appear
twice as big. She smells of cinnamon.
“Hi,” I say, trying to catch my breath. “I hope I’m not late. I’m Aurora
Foster? I’m interning here starting today.”
“Oh, another intern!” she says with a sweet giggle. “There’s no need to
worry, you’re right on time.”
“Thank God.”
“Would you like to come with me? I can show you to your desk. I think
the Antonov brothers will be gathering you all soon to make introductions.”
I smile. “That’d be wonderful. Thank you, Merrybell.”
“Please, call me Merry.”
The CyberFort building is massive with at least fifty floors, most of them
primarily dedicated to their massive server rooms. The actual offices are on
the thirtieth floor and above, hosting the strategy and marketing, accounting,
research and development, human resources, and operations departments.
Merrybell takes me to the forty-fourth floor where research and development
is held.
We step out of the elevator together into a grand, open space. No stuffy
cubicles in sight. Instead, large workstations abound with ample seating. It’s
clear the higher ups at CyberFort have spent a great deal on the interior
design. It’s bright and welcoming, a place I can clearly picture myself
working for long hours without getting bored of the view.
A group of young men are gathered by one of the workstations, some of
them seated in office chairs while others lean against the table. They seem
like a lively bunch, chatting loudly about the weather or the latest PS5 game
to be released and so on. None of them pay me any mind, even when
Merrybell shows me over.
“Here you are,” she says to me. “Meet your fellow interns, Aurora. This
is Charlie, Buck, Lincoln, David, and Timothy.”
I give them all a polite wave and smile. “Hi, nice to meet you.”
“Sup,” Charlie, the loudest of the group, says with a casual tilt of his chin.
“Oh, thank God there’s a chick here,” David says with a light laugh. His
hair is dyed an obnoxious neon green. “I was worried it was going to be a real
sausage fest.”
 “Chick?” I echo flatly.
My stomach clenches as I take them all in. I realize with bitter, but
unsurprised disappointment, that I’m the only woman who’s been brought on
to the interning team. I can’t say the scenario is new, either. It’s a well-known
and unfortunate fact that there are significantly fewer women interested in the
field of computer sciences—and STEM in general. I tell myself it’s fine.
These guys don’t intimidate me. In fact, I really hope we can all get along
and do great work together. At the end of the day, I just want to do my job
and earn my keep, squirreling the excess away into my savings account.
The sooner I can save up to find my father, the better.
“What a lively bunch,” a man says as he steps out from around the corner.
He’s tall, roughly six-foot-something with dark brown hair and equally dark
brown eyes. The man is dressed in a sharp looking suit, complete with sporty
charcoal blazer and polished leather shoes. “What do you think of the fresh
meat, Pyotr?” he asks the man tailing him.
In many ways, Pyotr looks just like the first guy. Hell, the longer I stare at
them, the more I wonder if they’re twins. There are slight differences in their
appearance. Pyotr’s hair is cropped shorter, and he sports a thick, well-
trimmed beard. Their eyes are the same, though, as well as their lean
physiques. But unlike the first guy, Pyotr is dressed more casually in a white
button down, his sleeves rolled up to just below his elbow.
“You shouldn’t call them fresh meat, Dimitri,” is his flat reply.
Dimitri rolls his eyes. “You’re no fun. I’m only teasing.” He turns to our
group and hits us with a charming smile. He oozes confidence. “Hello,
everyone. My name’s Dimitri Antonov, head of PR. This is my brother,
Pytor. He’s in charge of accounting. And Luka…” Dimitri looks around and
frowns. “Where’s that little shit?”
Pyotr sighs. “Luka is our youngest brother and the head of research and
development. You’ll be working closely with him over the next year. He’s
currently in a meeting with our CEO, but he’ll be out shortly.”
One of the interns, Lincoln, raises his hand. “Are we going to meet him,
too?”
Dimitri snorts. “You don’t have to raise your hand. This isn’t elementary
school. But yes, Mikhail will be out to introduce himself, too. For now,
though, hit us with any questions you might have. We’ll give you a tour, too.
We’ll be hooking you all up with company-issued laptops once we get down
to operations.”
 A murmur breaks out amongst the interns. I share in their excitement.
CyberFort might not have been my first choice, but I’m still excited to learn
the ropes and get my hands on the latest tech. I’m itching to find out what
sorts of projects they have on the go here. Now that I’m officially playing in
the big leagues, I’m going to make sure I give my all.
Dimitri checks his watch. A silver Rolex. If he’s head of public relations
for one of the top five cybersecurity companies in the world, I have no doubt
he’s swimming in cash. “Luka’s taking too long. We’ll get you set up with
your ID badges and take you on that tour. Stick close, everybody. Try not to
get lost.”
We move as a group, though it’s difficult for me to ignore the way the
other interns group together. I don’t fit in, easily pushed out of their circle. I
have no choice but to follow behind. I try not to feel discouraged. I was the
last to show up, after all. They’ve probably already bonded over Halo 3 or
whatever it is tech bros bond over. We’re going to be working as a team for a
whole year. I’ve got plenty of time to grow on them.
The tour is impressive. Once we each receive our ID badges, all of which
are encoded to unlock various doors throughout the building, Dimitri and
Pyotr show us the server rooms.
I marvel at the intricacy.
“We have an open-door policy here,” Dimitri continues. “We encourage
all of you to stop by if you have any questions. CyberFort prides itself on its
lateral leadership. That’s what sets us apart from other big tech companies.”
He’s been doing most of the talking. I get the sense that Pyotr doesn’t
really mind. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile once. I’m starting to worry the
effort might kill him.
Eventually we return to the forty-fourth floor and circle back to the
beginning. We’ve all been gifted brand-new MacBooks, our login
information already filled in for us. When we return, we find a third man
waiting. He’s by far the most casually dressed, in a simple pair of dark blue
jeans and an oversized black hoodie.
“Luka!” Dimitri says with a hearty chuckle. “Finally came out of your
dungeon down on ninth, did you?”
The third Antonov brother gives Dimitri a glare. He’s paler than the lot of
them, with dark circles under his eyes. He’s still quite handsome, though,
with similarly striking features and a broad chest. I catch a peak of a tattoo
sneaking up the side of his neck.
 “Figured I’d introduce myself,” he grumbles. “I’m Luka. I’ll be your
immediate supervisor. I’ll be dishing out project assignments within the next
couple of hours. I don’t tolerate mistakes, so be sure to ask for clarification if
you have questions.”
Dimitri laughs, patting his brother on the shoulder. “You need to spend
less time with Misha. You’re starting to sound like him.”
My heart skips a beat. Misha? Surely, it’s a coincidence. Or maybe I’m so
bone tired I’m hearing things. There’s absolutely no way I’m ever going to
run into him again.
“So, these are the new recruits?” a familiarly deep voice floats into my
ear.
I freeze. Oh, good God, no.
“Everyone,” Pyotr says. “This is the CEO of CyberFort, Mikhail
Antonov. Try not to piss him off and you might last the year.”
I dare to peek at him out of the corner of my eye and immediately regret
it. It’s him. My mystery bidder. Not only is he my boss, he’s coming this
way.
“I expect great things from you all,” Mikhail says without a smile. He
looks tired. Stressed, even. I wonder if it has something to do with our little
almost tryst last night. He scans the line of interns and stops when he spots
me.
And then he stares.
It’s unnerving. I’m not sure if I should say something. Smile, maybe? Do
I have the balls to play it off like I don’t remember him? If someone could
pull the fire alarm right about now and cause a distraction, I’d be immensely
grateful.
“You,” he says after a moment, his voice tight. He holds his hand out in a
friendly manner, but his eyes… He’s fucking pissed. “Mikhail Antonov.
You?”
I shake his hand, my heart leaping into my throat when I feel the contact
of his warm palm. He wouldn’t touch me yesterday, but he is now.
“Aurora Foster,” I whisper.
He nods but says nothing, and then he leaves without a word.
I am so fucked.
CHAPTER 6
 MIKHAIL

I review her resumé with great interest. I handpicked all the interns this
year, so I remember her name crossing my desk vividly. A graduate from
MIT with a degree in computer science and engineering. Not quite the top of
her class, but I remember thinking she was no less impressive. Her portfolio
spoke for itself. Neat, concise, with programs that were fully operational with
no noticeable bugs or performance issues.
I keep calm, weighing my options. The logical thing to do is let her go. If
word gets out that I not only saw her naked but instructed her to get off while
grinding on top of me, it could damage her career. It could damage my
company. If I cut her off now and send her on her way, we’ll be able to avoid
further complications and unnecessary awkwardness.
Except that doesn’t exactly sit well with me for a number of reasons.
One, it wasn’t like we were breaking any rules. I wasn’t her boss yet; she
wasn’t an employee. What happens on our own time is nobody’s concern.
We both consented to it, we both had fun. Why should the one hour we spent
together cost her a year-long internship? Two, she would clearly make a fine
addition to the team. Her resumé speaks for itself. She’s smart, passionate.
And three…
I want her to stay. It’s selfish, I know, but deep down in the pit of my
stomach, I want to know more about her. I have so many questions. Why did
she lie to me about her name? About being there at Priscilla Kelp’s event?
And why the fuck is there a wedding ring on her finger?
I spotted the band of gold in an instant. She’d been spinning it anxiously
between her fingers, the panic clear in her eyes. She’s married. It’s no wonder
she was spinning tales at the party. This new information upsets me more
than I want to admit.
What lucky bastard gets to call her his wife? And why the hell is she out
parading next-to-nude at a party? Why does she have to work at all? If I had a
woman in my life, I’d ensure she’d never have to lift a finger. One of the
many lessons my father taught me was to take care of your family, to
provide. What kind of deadbeat dickhead must he be for Aurora to feel the
need to moonlight as a server?
Aurora.
I linger on the thought of her name. It’s beautiful, just like her. Like the
princess from Sleeping Beauty. Now that I think about it, it suits her so much
more than Charlotte. Befitting.
I force the thoughts away. I need to stop thinking about her. When it
comes to business, there are very few lines I won’t cross if I’m sure I can get
away with it. But on a personal level, cheating is something I can’t condone.
Even though we didn’t take things further, we still went too far. I make the
decision to swallow whatever this strange feeling in my chest is.
If we can both be civil and act like nothing happened, I see no reason why
Aurora can’t keep her job. I need to keep my distance—for both our sakes.
There’s a knock on my door. Merrybell pokes her head in.
“Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Antonov,” she says. She’s a sweet lady.
Looks a lot like my own mother, except Catherina is anything but sweet. I
love that woman to death, but there’s no one else on Earth capable of striking
fear in my heart like my own mother.
“What is it?” I ask, shoving Aurora’s resumé into my desk’s top drawer.
“Mr. Young has sent over the paperwork. Just needs your signature. I
forwarded an electronic copy for you to sign.”
“Good. I’ll take care of it.”
“It sure is exciting to see some new faces around here,” Merrybell
comments politely, casting a quick glance at the interns out in the main office
area. I have a clear view of Aurora from where I’m sitting. I’m not sure if
that’s going to be a problem or not.
“Is there anything else you need, Merrybell?” I ask.
“Oh, yes. There’s a gentleman on line one waiting for you. The same one
who called you yesterday and the week before. Name started with a K?”
I grit my teeth. “Konstantin.”
Merrybell snaps her fingers. “Yep, that’s it.”
“Thank you for letting me know. Close the door on your wait out.”
 “You got it, Mr. Antonov.”
Once she’s firmly shut my office door, I pick up my phone with a heavy
sigh. I don’t want to deal with this right now. I’ve made it perfectly clear that
I want nothing to do with him. I hold the receiver to my ear and hiss, “I told
you to stop calling.”
“I’ll stop calling when you agree to meet with me,” Konstantin says
casually, his Russian accent so thick it takes me a moment to register his
words.
“That’s never going to happen. Fuck off.”
“Now, now, Misha,” he chides. “Is that anyway to talk to your beloved
uncle?”
“You’re no uncle of mine.”
“Blood is blood. You will always be a part of the family, regardless of
how many miles stand between us.”
“This is your last warning,” I snap. “Stop calling me. Don’t harass my
family. We’re never going to accept your offer. You were the one who
banished our father.”
“My little brother Lev made the mistake of betraying me,” Konstantin
says calmly. Maybe a little too calmly. “The rules of the Antonov Bratva
must be upheld. I should have killed him on the spot for trying to turn me into
the police. He got away easy.”
“My father died because of you,” I hiss. “I was eight when your men
chased us out of Moscow.”
“Let bygones be bygones, Misha. I need you and your brothers to come
home. Join us once again. It is your birthright to rule at my side.”
“What part of fuck off don’t you understand?”
Konstantin chuckles. It’s a gross sound. Wet, and all too throaty. “Your
success, your company… You owe it all to me.”
“Our success is due to our hard work. You made sure you had no hand in
it when you chased my father out of Russia at gunpoint.”
“You must think clearly, Misha. Think of all the things we could achieve
together. The Antonov Bratva and the information CyberFort could
provide… We’d be unstoppable.”
I lean forward in my seat, anger licking at the nape of my neck. “I won’t
tell you again, Uncle. Stop. Calling.”
Slamming the phone down on its receiver, I sit back in my chair, fuming.
Konstantin’s been calling non-stop ever since he got out of jail four months
ago. He’s been serving time for an impossibly long list of crimes. I was too
young to understand why we had to leave Russia in the middle of the night in
a panic. Mother was still pregnant with Luka, and the twins were only six. At
the tender age of eight, my father declared me the man of the house.
I didn’t know what was happening. All I knew was that we had four plane
tickets to New York. Our father didn’t come with us. We never saw him
again, but even at that age, I wasn’t naive enough to hope he’d survive. I
know he’s dead, likely gunned down by his own brother.
I’m not ashamed about our lineage, our family legacy. As far as I’m
concerned, we’re two separate families who happen to share the same last
name. I won’t accept any of this Bratva bullshit. My brothers and I are
businessmen, pioneers in the tech field, not tatted brutes with a penchant for
violence.
Three sharp knocks sound at my door. My youngest brother, Luka, steps
in.
“You okay?” he asks gruffly.
“Fine,” I lie fluidly. There’s no need to tell him about Konstantin. My
brothers don’t need to know about that maniac. I’ll deal with him alone.
“You ready to go?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Where?”
“We’re treating the interns to lunch, remember? It’s a yearly tradition.”
I take a deep breath. Right, I’d almost forgotten. It was Dimitri’s idea to
take the new hires out to lunch on their first day to boost morale, because
once we put them to work, it’s noses to the grindstone. I normally don’t mind
company outings, but…
But this time she is going to be there.
I stand slowly. There’s really no avoiding Aurora. I can’t spend the next
year hiding in my office just to avoid the chance of an awkward encounter.
Besides, she’s in the unique position of knowing that I don’t hide anything at
all.
“Let’s go,” I tell my brother.
CHAPTER 7
 AURORA

T his restaurant is fancy with a capital F. I stand out like a sore thumb
thanks to my tomato red sweater, made even more apparent when
contrasted with my bright red hair. I tell myself it’s only lunch. Surely, I can
manage an hour or two of polite mingling and bonding with co-workers,
right?
The Tech Bros have formed a group of sorts, an alliance. Charlie, Buck,
Lincoln, David, and Timothy stick together like glue, taking all the free
chairs at the table, an inseparable mass. The Antonov brothers have joined us
as well, seated on the other side of the table while occasionally answering the
Tech Bros’ sporadic questions. There’s only one seat left for me to take.
Right next to Mikhail.
I sit in complete silence. He doesn’t speak, either. His brothers talk
business while the Tech Bros talk shop—not once trying to include me in
their conversation. It’s so awkward and uncomfortable that I want to squirm,
but I resist the urge and feign interest as the nice waitress rattles off the
specials.
Mikhail is trying his best to ignore me. I don’t think he’s even given me
so much as a sideways glance. To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure if I should
be grateful or if I should be insulted. All I know is I’m definitely confused
and a little freaked out. What if I lose my internship? What if word gets out?
“I think he has some good ideas,” Charlie says with a nonchalant grin.
“He’s one of the richest men in the world for a reason. I plan on investing in
cryptocurrency like he does. The guy’s a genius.”
A small scoff escapes me. I don’t mean to make the sound, but the way
Charlie’s talking about a man who made his fortune on a series of very
lucrative investments while conveniently leaving out the fact that his father
owned a goldmine and funded his earlier projects makes him sound like he
deserves to be placed on a pedestal.
Charlie tilts his head, an amused smirk on his face. “Something funny
there, Aurora?”
“No, nothing.”
“Please, speak up. I can barely hear you.”
I take a deep breath. “I just don’t agree with that statement.”
Charlie crosses his arms, sits back in his chair. There’s a smugness to him
that I don’t appreciate. A real ‘my-daddy-will-hear-about-this’ sort of energy.
He’s even dressed in a crisp white polo shirt from Ralph Lauren. “Why’s
that, Foster?”
“Cryptocurrency is notoriously unstable. You’d have better luck making
your money betting on the races. And secondly, the man isn’t infallible. Did
you see the mess he made when he took over Chipper? He ran the company
into the ground in two weeks.”
Timothy nods. “Yeah,” he says dumbly. “It was a trainwreck I couldn’t
look away from.”
Charlie clicks his tongue and glares. Timothy immediately sinks into
himself. Apparently, I’ve already figured out who the Tech Bro ringleader is.
“You wouldn’t get it,” he says with a dismissive wave of his bread stick.
“Crypto takes a certain level of expertise. I don’t expect you to understand.”
“What’s not to understand?” I retort. “It’s an unstable alternative form of
currency. There are safer places to invest your money.”
“I’ll get my financial advice from someone who’s qualified, sweetheart,
but thanks for the contribution.” His tone damn near sets me off. The rest of
his little posse simply laughs, while I sit there, quietly infuriated. And here I
was hoping to get along with my new co-workers.
“Ms. Foster is quite correct, and you’d do well not to call her sweetheart
in my presence again if you’d like to last the year.”
Mikhail draws everyone’s attention like a magnet. One sentence and he
commands the whole table. Hell, I’m pretty sure he could control the whole
room if he felt so inclined. Mikhail doesn’t add anything more. He doesn’t
need to. Within five seconds, the Tech Bros quickly change their tune.
“Now that I think about it, he’s said some pretty shitty stuff online and
never apologized for it,” Buck comments.
“Yeah, and crypto marketplaces can be pretty damn predatory,” adds
Lincoln.
There are murmurs of agreement.
“Excuse me,” I mumble as I vacate my chair and head to the restrooms.
The ladies’ room is just as fancy as the restaurant with lavishly tall
mirrors and granite vanity tables to sit at. I head to the sink and run my hands
under cold water, in a bit of a trance. This wasn’t how I imagined my first
day at work going. Between asshole co-workers and the discovery that I’ve
seen my new boss buck naked, my mind is spinning in endless circles. I know
I have to go back out there eventually, but my measly two hours of sleep is
finally getting to me.
Dammit, Charlotte. I love you, but I hate you. All of this is your fault.
“It’s fine,” I tell my reflection in the mirror. “Keep your head down and
do the work.”
“Are you going to hide in here forever?”
I yelp, whipping around to find Mikhail standing in the doorway. He
doesn’t seem too bothered by the fact that he’s in the wrong bathroom.
“What are you doing in here?”
Mikhail doesn’t answer right away. He gazes at me for a moment.
“Checking on you.”
I brace my hands on my hips. “Did you think I was in here crying?”
“No,” he says with the lightest of chuckles. “You’re tougher than that.”
“You didn’t really have to,” I insist. “I’m a big girl, Misha. Or should I
call you Mikhail? Or maybe sir?” I throw my hands up. “What a mess.”
His expression darkens slightly when the word sir slips from my mouth. I
swear to God I hear him growl like an animal in heat. He takes a few steps
closer, cinching the space between us in half.
“About that…”
“Let me guess, you want to pretend like it never happened? Go on with
our lives.”
“You certainly should.”
I frown at this. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Mikhail grinds his teeth, his jawline impeccably sharp. I can’t decipher
the look in his eyes. He’s close enough to touch now. “Here’s what’s going to
happen,” he states, his head high and chest proud. “We’re going to proceed
with a clean slate. We forget about last night and never bring it up again. Are
we clear?”
“What were you even doing there?” I ask, ignoring him outright. I need to
get these burning questions off my chest.
He bristles. “That’s none of your concern.”
“Don’t you think it’s a conflict of interest?”
Mikhail takes one last step forward. He’s so close. I can smell the earthy
notes of his cologne, can feel the heat of his body radiating off his suit. He
could kiss me, if he wanted to.
“That’s only the case if I know you,” he murmurs, eyes glued to my lips.
“I don’t know you.”
I’m not going to lie. His words sting like a slap across the face. I’m not
going to pretend we have some magical, once in a lifetime soul-bonding
connection, but there was something between us. An undeniable attraction.
He didn’t lay a finger on me, but I could see how badly he wanted me. Wants
me. Even now, his eyes are dark with lust, his gaze heated and heavy on my
form. Can we really ignore this pull between us?
“Are you going to be a problem for me, Ms. Foster?”
I scoff. “No. I need this job. Are you going to be a problem for me?”
Mikhail turns on his heels to leave. I hate the way I almost give chase, my
body canting toward his warmth like a flower facing the sun.
“We’ll keep contact to a minimum,” he says. “All your reports should go
through Luka, anyway.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“I have one last question, though.”
He sighs and looks at me. “What?”
I swallow, my heart skittering like a rock over thin ice. I don’t know why
I find so much enjoyment trying to push his buttons. It’s a thrill trying to get
him to crack.
“Was it worth it?” I ask. “Was I worth it? One million.”
Mikhail’s eye twitches. It’s an almost imperceptible movement. He leaves
without an answer. I’m disappointed, but unfortunately not surprised.
The food has arrived at the table by the time I rejoin the group. Mikhail’s
absence is glaringly obvious.
“Said he had to take an important call,” David explains when he notices
me look at the empty chair beside me.
“Of course he did,” I say dryly. I dig into my meal and try not to think
about the whole encounter.
I wonder if I’ll survive the year.
CHAPTER 8
 AURORA

F or the most part, my run-ins with Mikhail at the office are brief. More
often than not, they’re in passing. Striding past each other in the halls,
accidental eye-contact from across the office, one unfortunately long elevator
ride together on my way in from work. His eyes remained on his phone the
whole time, texting someone. I’m pretty sure he was faking it to avoid talking
to me.
Dick.
It’s just as well, I guess. I’d much rather we mutually ignore each other’s
existence than deal with… whatever the hell happened between us.
Sometimes I think about it and cringe. Many choices were made that evening,
and most of them were on the wrong side of sanity. But sometimes…
Sometimes I reminisce with a strange longing. I can’t stop thinking about
the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel so completely undone. He
had me unraveling with his words alone. I’ve had a couple of boyfriends
throughout college, a couple of one-night stands, but none of them ever made
me come using only the sound of his husky voice.
Even though it’s been a whole week since that night, I can still hear his
delicious words in my ear. They never fail to make me flush, the ravenous
look in his eyes seared into my memories like an iron-hot brand. He clearly
wanted me. The hard press of his cock was impossible to deny. I saw my
hunger reflected in him, could feel the sizzle in the air.
And now his cold indifference makes my chest sting.
It’s a good thing I have all this work to distract myself with.
Luka, my immediate supervisor and program mentor, is a man of few
words—a trait he seems to share with his eldest brother. I don’t have any
problem with it, though. He’s clearly passionate about what he does, as well
as extremely knowledgeable. A no nonsense kind of guy, a man who just
wants to get the job done.
He handed each of us interns our own separate projects to work on, as
well as one larger task to work on as a team. My work primarily consists of
reworking the internal coding of old backup data CyberFort keeps in one of
its many servers to make it as small as possible.
Our team task is to completely rebuild the recruitment page of
CyberFort’s website. As it stands, the webpage is clunky and has a number of
outdated scripts encoded into its programming. It’s up to us to not only get
rid of the kinks, but to also design it to be more eye-catching for prospective
employees.
I don’t mind the work. It’s enjoyable, actually, like putting together one
large, intricate puzzle using just my keyboard, fingertips, and brain. My
workspace is open and welcoming, the CyberFort cafeteria down on fifth has
a wide selection of free meals every day, and my commute is a peaceful thirty
minutes by subway.
It’s just a shame that I fucking hate my co-workers.
The Tech Bros are the absolute worst. They’re loud, take up too much
space, and don’t even get me started on the messes they leave because they
think the janitorial team will take care of it. It makes me roll my eyes. Why
do they feel the need to act like idiots? Do they seriously expect their moms
to pick up after them?
David and Timothy aren’t so bad.
But Charlie makes me want to put my head through the shredder.
I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’s the type of
guy who’s bad at first impressions. All it took was two days for me to realize
that he’s 100% a giant prick.
“Who wants to come to my barbecue this weekend?” Charlie asks, sitting
on the edge of my workstation. There are literally a dozen different chairs and
this is the exact location he decides to park his ass. His back is to me, which I
take as a very clear sign his invitation doesn’t extend to me. Not that I’d ever
want to go.
“How the fuck are you allowed a barbecue in New York?” Buck asks. He
has a dumb voice, weirdly high-pitched for a man of his rotundness.
“It’s on my father’s yacht,” Charlie clarifies. “We cook lobsters and stuff
every other week.”
 I swallow my groan. Of course this guy has a yacht. His stupid expensive
polo shirts should have been my first clue. Everything about him screams
over-privileged frat bro who’s been breezing through life on Daddy’s money.
In the strangest way, he gets me thinking about my own father. I’ve built
him up in my head after all these years, trying to create a collage of what he
might look like and how he might act. I wonder if he’s rich like Charlie’s
father or just as pompous. I like to imagine he’s wealthy, but kind and
generous. The only way to find out for sure is to find him, but that’s going to
take time. Every day, I inch closer and closer to my savings goal. Once I have
the funds, I’ll finally be able to look for him.
Hopefully I don’t slam Charlie’s head into the nearest copying machine
first.
“What do you say, babe?”
I look up. Charlie’s looking right at me with a smug grin that makes my
skin crawl. Ugh.
“Don’t call me that,” I retort, returning my attention to my laptop. I’ve
got lines upon lines of code on the screen, sifting through each digit carefully
for any mistakes I might have made.
“Come on, Foster,” he continues to prod. “It’ll be fun. You do know what
that is, don’t you?”
“No, thank you.”
“Don’t be like that.”
“What part of no don’t you understand?”
Charlie chuckles, putting up his hands in mock surrender. He gives his
groupies a look like I’m the one being an asshole.
“Jesus, someone took an extra dose of their bitchy pills today.”
I glare at him. “Excuse me?”
“Be a team player, Foster. Think about it, you could wear a bikini. I bet
you look fucking hot in a bikini.”
I stand and get right in his face. I’ve had enough, and there’s no way in
hell I’m going to let this blatant disrespect slide.
“You’re way out of line,” I snap. “Apologize.”
Charlie laughs. “Calm down, Aurora. Can’t you take a joke?”
“I’m not fucking laughing.”
He stands a bit taller, puffing out his chest and staring at me down the
length of his pointy nose. I’m not intimidated. I refuse to be the first to break.
If I do, it’ll make him think he can get away with this kind of boorish
behavior. Not on my fucking watch.
Charlie’s eyes flit just past my shoulder to someone behind me. I don’t
look, determined to remain focused. He caves first, wilting away with a
derisive huff.
“Whatever,” he grumbles under his breath before walking away.
A small sense of triumph rises in my chest, though it leaves a bitter taste
at the back of my throat. It doesn’t feel like a victory. Not when my cheeks
burn hot with embarrassment and my stomach bubbles with rage. Any of the
other guys could have said something. Someone could have put their foot
down and come to my defense. Yet I was all alone, fending off my asshole
co-worker by myself. I can handle it, but I shouldn’t have to.
When I feel the prickle of tears stinging my eyes, I turn and head to the
bathroom. Hell will freeze over before I allow Charlie and his fanboys to see
me cry. As quickly and as quietly as I can manage without looking like I’m
moving quickly, I shuffle to the women’s bathroom.
Anger licks the back of my neck, makes my whole skull pound.
Everything about this sucks. I haven’t made a single friend at CyberFort, and
to top everything off, my precarious situation with my boss makes me feel
like I’m constantly walking around on eggshells.
The last thing I am is a quitter, but… Shit. Maybe quitting is the easiest
option. I know I could tough it out for a whole year, but is the stress worth it?
With my credentials, I could easily find a new placement somewhere else.
Maybe Mikhail will write me a stellar reference. I’m sure he, of all the people
here, wants me gone with as little fuss as possible.
But the sting of defeat makes me reconsider. If I quit CyberFort, they
win. My pride can’t handle a blow like that. Charlie and his smart mouth,
Mikhail and his stupidly handsome face… I don’t think I’d ever forgive
myself for copping out so early.
The bathroom door swings open. Merrybell pokes her head in, wearing a
friendly smile.
“How are you doing, dear?” she asks me, standing in front of the sink
beside mine. The older woman takes her time washing her hands, lathering
with soap while running the water to let it warm up. In my short time here,
I’ve learned that Merrybell is really the only person here I can tolerate.
“I’m having a day,” I admit with a thin laugh.
“I overheard what happened.”
“Forget about it. Boys being boys and all that.”
 Merrybell clicks her tongue. “Boys will be held accountable for their
actions,” she corrects, though not unkindly. “This is a tough field we’re in.
Keep your chin up. Remember you’re not alone.”
I offer a small smile. “Thanks, Merry.”
“Now, once you’re ready, Mikhail would like to see you in his office.”
A shiver slithers my spine at the mere mention of his name. “Why?” I
ask. My voice comes out way squeakier than I want it to. “Am I in trouble?”
Merrybell shrugs as she wipes her hands with some paper towel. “He sent
me after you, but he didn’t say. I’m sure everything’s fine, though.”
I swallow the lump lodged in the back of my throat. Something tells me
that’s not the case. I take a deep breath and anxiously spin my mother’s ring
around my finger. Dread sits heavy in the pit of my stomach, but there’s no
way out of this. Sometimes it’s better to rip the bandage off in one go, no
matter how badly it’s going to hurt.
“Okay,” I murmur to myself. “Time to go see the boss.”
CHAPTER 9
 MIKHAIL

I saw the whole thing from my office. To say I’m displeased by Charlie’s
behavior is an understatement. It’s Luka’s job to train them directly, but
I’ve been keeping a watchful, albeit distant, eye on all the interns for their
mid-year and year-end performance reports.
I don’t give a shit if he graduated from CalTech with honors, or that his
father happens to be a client of CyberFort. Despite being the self-proclaimed
ringleader, Charlie is arguably the worst performer of the bunch. He wastes
his time, his submission deadlines are always late, and the cherry on top is
that his behavior toward Aurora is downright deplorable.
A part of me wanted to step in. Fire him on the spot. Such comments are
unbecoming of a CyberFort employee. Not to mention it’s a massive HR red
flag. When he brought up the suggestion of Aurora wearing and looking hot
in a bikini, I damn near flew out of my chair to knock some sense into him. I
didn’t, of course, because I’m nowhere near that brash. And I don’t want to
open my company up to a potential lawsuit because—if I’m being perfectly
honest—I would have beat his ass into the ground.
I remain in my office, seated in my leather executive chair, strumming my
fingers on the edge of my desk. I sent Merrybell to retrieve Aurora for me
roughly twenty minutes ago. What’s taking so long?
My phone dings in my pocket.

Meet me at Red Orchid at 9pm.

Irritation lances through me. It may be an unknown number, but I know
exactly who it is. My uncle has been annoyingly persistent this week, finding
ways to contact me despite all my attempts to block him. He must have a
hoard of burner phones at his disposal. It’s the only way I can explain how
he’s been able to reach out repeatedly.
Concern eats away at my chest. The Red Orchid? That’s a high-end
lounge bar downtown. If he’s asking to meet there, it means Konstantin is in
New York. How the hell did he manage to get into the States without raising
any alarms? With a criminal record like his, I figured he would have been on
a no-fly list. He must have found a work around. I wouldn’t be surprised if it
somehow involved money, violence, or both.
I block the number, knowing full well he’ll attempt to reach out again
soon. This situation is getting out of hand. What do I have to do to get my
uncle to leave my family alone?
A soft knock pulls me from my thoughts.
Aurora leans lightly against the doorframe, spinning her wedding ring
around her finger. Her eyes are cast to the floor, her brows knitted together in
worry. “You wanted to see me?”
“Close the door. Sit down.”
Aurora does as she’s asked, sitting on the guest chair across from my
desk. I remain seated, studying her with more heated intent than anticipated.
This is the first time I’ve allowed myself to look at her this week. It’s been
hard. A near gargantuan task, though a necessity all the same. I tell myself
it’s for her sake. Her beauty is too intoxicating, too mesmerizing. If I don’t
keep my distance, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off her.
“What happened out there?” I ask evenly, leaning back in my chair.
She shifts in her seat. “Nothing.”
“Didn’t sound like nothing.”
Aurora squints at me. “So you heard it?”
“Difficult not to.”
“But you didn’t do anything?” She crosses her arms, sounding wholly
indignant now. Aurora’s a lot sexier than she has any right to be.
“It looked like you were holding your own just fine,” I state, rising slowly
from my chair. “I simply wanted to hear your side of the story first.”
I circle around to the front of my desk, leaning against the edge in front of
her. Aurora’s eyes flick up to me but return to the spot on the floor just as
quickly. My jaw ticks. I don’t like not being able to see those pretty baby
blues of hers. Before I can think against it, I reach out and tuck my fingers
beneath her chin. Applying the faintest bit of pressure, I tilt her face up to
look at me.
I regret it in an instant because fuck. I almost forgot how beautiful she is.
I’ve had dreams about those gorgeous, full lips. When I see her walking in
the hall, I have to fight the urge to run my fingers through her hair. The other
day when we were stuck riding the same elevator, I’d managed to ignore her
completely. Little did she know I was barely hanging onto my sanity. All I
wanted was to hit the emergency stop button, press her against the elevator
wall, and have my way with her.
Heat stirs deep within my core. What I wouldn’t give to bend her over my
desk right now. I have spent every day since Priscilla Kelp’s party thinking
about her languid moans, the press of her hot skin, the way she moved so
beautifully against me. Would she protest if I threw her over my knee and
spanked that peachy ass of hers, or would she welcome it? The more I take in
the length of her lashes, the cute point of her nose, the silky locks of her hair,
the more I come to realize something.
This woman terrifies me. I have barely any control over this all-
consuming hunger I have for her. I’m scared that one day soon, I’ll finally
snap.
“Misha?” she whispers, her lips parted just so.
A shiver shoots down my spine at the sound of my name. Only my family
is allowed to call me that, yet I can’t say I mind the way it sounds rolling off
her tongue. I pull away. This isn’t a good idea. Everybody may be out to
lunch, but my office walls are still made of glass. Anybody could walk by
and see us together.
“I’ll have a word with Charlie when he gets back from his break,” I say.
“He won’t bother you again, I’ll make sure of it.”
Before I have a chance to return to my seat, Aurora stands and takes a
single step forward, cutting off my path.
“W-ait,” she murmurs, her cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink.
“Misha, please…”
I swallow. God, it should be illegal to look at me like that. She’s too
fucking close now. So close I could rip that blouse off her, wrap my arms
around her so she can’t escape. I could mark her skin with kisses, grab a
fistful of her hair, and make her cry out for more.
She reaches out, one hand pressed to my chest. “Misha…”
 I grasp her wrist, my heart shooting up into my throat. I shake my head.
“This isn’t a good idea.”
Her eyes drag down to the front of my pants, an amused grin tugging at
the corners of her lips. “Not a good idea?” she muses, sliding her hand down
my torso. Aurora allows her hand to slip down to graze over the hardening
bulge beneath the fabric. “Someone seems to think otherwise.”
I stifle a groan. My hips buck involuntarily against her hand “Dammit,
Aurora—”
“Should I stop?” she asks, though she doesn’t sound the least bit
concerned. She’s pushing my buttons on purpose.
Grinding my teeth, I growl, “If you don’t, I’ll—”
“What?” Aurora challenges, palming my aching erection through my
pants. “What will you do, sir? Teach me a lesson?”
My breath comes out shuddered. Fuck, this woman is going to drive me
insane.
As quick as lightning, I grab her hair by the roots and tug her head back
slightly. Not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to control her
movements. Judging by the soft gasp that escapes her, Aurora likes it just as
much as I do.
I loom over her, unable to look away from her mouth. My cock throbs,
her hand still petting away. Fire burns in my veins, an untamable craving
stewing in the pit of my stomach.
“If you don’t stop,” I rasp, “I’m going to fuck you right here on the office
floor.”
Her pupils are wide with lust. “Do it,” she says, a heated whisper.
“Nobody’s here. You can fuck me until I scream and nobody will ever
know.”
My resolve crumbles. The things I’m going to do to this woman are
unspeakable.
I lunge forward, crashing my lips to hers. There’s nothing elegant and
gentle about it. It’s pure, unadulterated hunger. Teeth clash, tongues wrestle
for control. I want to devour her. I swallow every one of her whimpers, every
one of her moans. I’d taste every inch of her skin if only we had more time.
“Misha—”
“Quiet,” I hiss, circling her waist with an arm.
I spin us around, pinning her against the back of my desk. We hurriedly
sweep documents off the surface, making room for her to lie down. Aurora
wraps her legs around my hips, her fingers combing through my hair and
clinging to my shoulders for support as I suck hard marks against the crook
of her throat. I’m feral for her, no better than an animal as I grind my hips
against her.
“Oh, God,” she whines, hastily helping me lift the fabric of her blouse.
My mouth waters when I catch a glimpse of her nipples falling out of the
cup of her bra. I dive in, squeezing her breasts while running my tongue over
her sensitive flesh. Aurora quivers beneath me, her head falling back with a
satisfied sigh.
I can’t remember the last time I wanted anyone this much. It physically
hurts not to be inside her, buried deep between her soft thighs. I haven’t
stopped thinking about her. The party was just a teaser, a sample that hooked
me from the get-go. She gave me a taste, and now I’m addicted.
“Please,” Aurora whimpers. “Please, Misha, hurry. I want—”
“What do you want, kisa?”
“You. Inside me. I’m so fucking wet for you.”
Curious, I slip a hand down the front of her jeans, tracing my finger over
her soft folds. I marvel quietly at how wet she really is.
“Christ,” I grumble, sweeping the pad of my fingers over her sensitive
clit. “Like a fucking faucet.”
Aurora’s body trembles with pleasure as I draw tight circles against her.
Watching her unravel is the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever experienced.
She groans. “Oh, God, I’m—”
“Don’t tell me you’re close already.”
“Sh-shut up.”
My free hand grasps her by the chin, fingers pressing into her cheeks.
“That’s no way to speak to me, Aurora. Try again. Do you want to come or
not?”
She licks her lips. “I… I want to come.”
“You’re not being very polite, kisa. Try again.”
“P-please?”
“Please, what?”
“Please, sir.”
I hum in approval. “Good girl.”
Aurora shivers at the sound of my praise. It unleashes something
protective inside me. She likes praise? Maybe I’ll spoil her rotten with it.
“Beautiful,” I murmur against her breasts, teasing her clit in earnest. “So
nice and wet for me. Does this feel good?”
“Y-yes!”
“Sir,” I correct gently.
Aurora whines. “Yes, sir. It feels so good.”
“I’m going to make you come on my fingers, and then on my cock.
Would you like that, kisa?”
“W-what does that mean?” she asks, breathing hard as she writhes against
my hand. “You keep saying it.”
“You’re a smart girl,” I say, pressing my fingers against her wet entrance.
“You’ll figure it out.”
She brings a shaky hand up to brush some of the hair away from her face,
a thin layer of sweat breaking out across her forehead. It’s then that I catch
the metallic shine of something gold around her finger. Her wedding ring.
Fuck.
My common sense fights its way back into my brain. Aurora is a married
woman. This is wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this. I move away in an instant,
ignoring the painful throb of my cock and her sweet essence coating my
fingers. What the hell am I doing?
“What’s wrong?” she asks, flustered. She props herself up on her elbows,
staring at me in confusion.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I grumble, voice hoarse and thin.
“But I want to,” she insists. “Look, if this is about you being my boss—”
“That’s not what this is about.”
“Then why?”
I grind my teeth, struggling to breathe. I want her so badly it hurts. “Ask
your husband,” I hiss.
She blinks, appearing dumbfounded. “My husband? What are you talking
about?”
“Get out before somebody sees. Take the rest of the day off.”
Aurora hastily redresses herself, sweeping her fingers through her hair.
The tears welling in her eyes genuinely makes me feel bad about what I’ve
done. I’ve taken things way too far. I can only hope we can put this all behind
us and pray this doesn’t get to HR.
“Asshole,” she hisses under her breath as she storms out.
I definitely deserved that.
CHAPTER 10
 AURORA

I slam my apartment door so hard it feels like it shakes the whole building.
Charlotte jolts, her head snapping up. She was apparently sitting on the
couch in the middle of painting her toenails.
“Whoa,” she says, hastily screwing the cap of her nail polish on. “Bad
day?”
“The fucking worst,” I grumble, stomping over to the fridge to grab a
beer.
Unfortunately, it was my turn this week to do a grocery run, but I put it
off because of how busy I’ve been at my internship. There’s practically
nothing here. Just a carton full of questionable eggs and half a carton of milk
that’s nearly a week past its expiration date. I take the milk and dump it down
the sink.
Just my luck.
Not only am I still hot and bothered, I can’t even try to wash away the
day with a chilled can of Bud Light. I don’t know if I want to scream or tear
my hair out or storm back into Mikhail’s office and give him a piece of my
mind. Husband? What the hell is he talking about?
I glance down at my mother’s ring, a wave of cold guilt washing over me
from head to toe. This whole time… Has he been avoiding me because he
thinks I’m married? Oh my God, I want to punch that beautiful face of his
and then kiss that noble idiot all over.
Charlotte waddles over to join me in the kitchen, walking on her heels,
mindful of her neon pink toe separators. She sits down at the table and looks
at me curiously. “You wanna tell me about it?”
“Men are the worst.”
 Charlotte laughs. “Boy trouble, huh?”
“You have no idea. I mean, is it so hard to say what’s on your mind?”
“Just point me in the right direction and tell me whose ass I need to kick.”
I manage a smile. “That’s sweet, but we don’t want you getting all
bruised up before your photoshoot tomorrow.”
“Very true. I guess the homicide will have to occur after the photoshoot,
then.”
I roll my eyes. “So it’s elevated to murder, has it?”
“Nobody fucks with my bestie and gets to live to tell the tale,” she says
adamantly. “You know what you need? You look like you could blow off
some steam. Let’s go out and grab a drink or something.”
“I don’t know… I have an early day tomorrow.”
Charlotte bats her lashes at me. “When was the last time we had a girl’s
night, hm?”
“We had taco night last weekend.”
“You know for a fact that’s not what I mean. I want to get all gussied up
and go out somewhere.”
I huff a laugh. “Are you telling me my stretchy jogging pants aren’t fancy
enough for you?”
“You need to let loose, babe. There’s nothing wrong with going out once
in a while.”
“You’re just saying this because you don’t want to cook.”
Charlotte shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. Come on. My treat?”
I rinse out the empty milk carton and set it aside to throw away later.
“Well, if it’s your treat.”

The Red Orchid is one of the swankier lounges downtown. It’s a new haunt,
popular with customers of the classy-rich variety. The line to get inside wraps
around the entire building and extends past the block, but one look at
Charlotte is all it takes for the bouncer to give us a nod of approval and let us
through—much to the chagrin of those near the front of the line. We ignore
their rightful complaints, escaping the chilly evening to step inside.
Charlotte holds onto my hand tight so we don’t lose each other in the
crowd. We look like an item, dressed in matching mini dresses. She’s in
bright red while I’m in emerald green.
“We look like we’re celebrating Christmas,” I mentioned to Charlotte
when she loaned me her clothes. Since it took nearly twenty minutes to
shimmy into the damn thing, I decided not to bother trying anything else on.
It’s busy in here. Loud, too. Not to mention insanely crowded. I’m
usually fine in tight spaces, but the heat of the air and the smell of sweat and
alcohol makes me dizzy. It’s also hard to ignore all the eyes following us as
we move toward the bar. A small thrill races down my spine. It’s almost
exciting knowing how many people are interested in us. Maybe I can find a
nice guy to help me forget all about my dumb-handsome-sexy-fucking-jerk
problems.
As Charlotte beckons the bartender over, my memories wander to this
afternoon in Mikhail’s office. I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on in
my entire life. The desperation of it… The haste and the hunger… It was so
utterly divine. I wasn’t at all surprised when I walked away with my panties
totally soaked through. He flustered me and drove me out of my mind with
lust; I had to hurry to the bathroom to finish myself off.
Mikhail had me seconds away from release, and he stopped. He stopped
because he thinks I’m married. I was too frazzled to explain myself, not that
he gave me much of a chance to.
A part of me wonders if I should tell him the truth. That I’m not, in fact,
hitched. If cheating is apparently where he draws the line, then he should
have no qualms when he realizes there’s no Mr. Foster in my life. Then
again, I’m treading dangerous waters as it is. Mikhail is still my boss. He’s
also twice my age. If word gets out, it could seriously harm both of our
reputations. I can already imagine all the snide comments the Tech Bros
might make.
The worst thing is that those comments wouldn’t be unwarranted, either.
Is sleeping with Mikhail worth all the trouble?
“Here you go,” the bartender says, sliding two red cocktails towards us.
“Oh, thank you, but I didn’t order this.”
The bartender tilts his chin towards someone sitting at the other end of the
bar. “The gentleman bought it for you.”
Charlotte and I follow his line of sight. Seated a couple yards away is a
man dressed in a spiffy light grey suit. Where Mikhail is roughly twice my
age—I don’t think he ever gave me an exact number—I can only assume the
man over here is at least twenty or more years older than that.
 He’s dashing as hell and incredibly fit. His hair is completely grey, and he
wears it slicked back with the sides cropped short. The stranger’s eyes are a
misty blue that stands out against the light color of his suit. While the other
guys at the bar sit awkwardly, vying for the attention of any pretty girl who
happens to pass by, he sits with an air of power and authority. He seems like
he could care less about my reaction to his gift, though his eyes do linger for
an answer one way or another.
Charlotte nudges me with the tip of her elbow. “Hot damn,” she has to
shout in my ear to be heard over the loud music. “Looks like you’ve got
Sugar Daddy’s attention.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, stop that.”
“We should go say hi!”
“Wait a second—”
Leave it to Charlotte, a woman made of pure and unattainable energy, to
skip off toward him without a second thought. I have no choice but to follow,
thanking the bartender with a five-dollar tip.
As we approach, the stranger gives Charlotte and me a polite nod. I have
to admit that there’s something familiar about him, though I can’t quite figure
it out. Maybe it’s the shape of his nose or the line of his jaw… he reminds me
eerily of Mikhail. I have to push the thought out of my mind.
“Good evening, ladies,” he says, his words heavy with a foreign accent.
Russian, if I had to guess. Definitely Slavic.
“Thank you for the drink,” I say. “Very kind of you.”
The man holds his hand out to shake. “Konstantin,” he introduces.
I smile sweetly, slipping my palm into his. “Aurora. And this is my
friend, Charlotte.”
“An absolute pleasure.” He brings my hand up and presses a light kiss to
the back of my knuckles.
“So, Konstantin,” Charlotte says as she flirtatiously twirls a strand of her
hair. “What brings you out tonight? Feel like joining us on the dance floor?”
Konstantin smiles. It’s measured and practiced. “No dancing for me, I’m
afraid. Just looking to kill a bit of time before I meet my nephew.”
I arch a curious brow. “You’re meeting your nephew here?”
He chuckles. “I’ll admit it’s a lot more popular than when I was here
last.”
“And when was that?”
“Almost five years ago. I haven’t had the chance to visit New York in a
very long time.”
“Where’ve you been?” I ask lightly. “Anywhere exciting?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe, kisa.”
My heart stutters. I take a casual sip of my drink. I’m delighted to find it’s
a simple vodka cranberry. “What does that mean?” I ask easily. “Kisa.”
Konstantin’s grin sends me through a loop. He looks so damn familiar. I
swear to God if I squint just enough, all I see is Mikhail. Is the alcohol
already getting to me? Is my brain so desperate for him that I’m projecting
his image onto other people?
“It means kitten,” Konstantin explains. “Rather fitting, since you’re cute
like one.”
My cheeks pool with heat, though I’m not sure if it’s because Konstantin
has a way with words or because the knowledge that Mikhail has been calling
me his kitten this entire time makes feel some type of way. Why can’t I get
him out of my head? Why does my chest ache every time I think about him?
“Oh, shoot!” Charlotte says, looking around for something. “I think I left
my purse on the bar counter. I’ll be right back.” She scurries off, her eyes set
on the other end of the bar, leaving Konstantin and me alone together.
“Tell me, Aurora. What brings you out this evening?”
“Honestly? I’m trying to get over a guy.”
Konstantin frowns slightly. “Some bastard broke your heart?”
I shrug. “Not quite broken, but definitely bruised.”
He reaches out, grazing the side of my arm with the tips of his fingers.
There’s something magnetic about him. Konstantin gives me a sympathetic
look. Once again, it looks incredibly practiced, as if he’s a robot trying on
different expressions—though I tell myself I’m being crazy. Maybe it’s the
lighting, maybe it’s the few sips of vodka cranberry. Who knows?
“Maybe I can help you forget all about him, hm?” he says, voice low and
mesmerizing.
“What about your nephew?”
“It seems he’s running late. To be honest, I’m not expecting him to show
at all. I can always catch him some other time.”
All of a sudden, someone shoves himself between Konstantin and me.
He’s big and angry, and he has my hand wrapped up tightly in his. I can only
see the back of his head, but I know who he is the second I catch a whiff of
his earthy cologne.
“Keep your fucking hands off of her!” Mikhail growls.
CHAPTER 11
 AURORA

C onfusion sweeps over me.

“Mikhail?” I rasp. I try to take my hand back, but he refuses to let
go. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he grumbles. Mikhail keeps his
eyes trained on Konstantin the entire time. “What the fuck are you doing in
New York? I’ve made myself perfectly clear. I want nothing to do with you.”
Konstantin doesn’t appear fazed in the slightest. “Ah, my darling nephew.
I was worried you weren’t going to show.” He looks him up and down. “My,
how you’ve grown. What has it been? Almost thirty-five years since we last
saw each other? I believe you were about eight when you left Russia, yes?”
My mind spins. Nephew? Mikhail is Konstantin’s nephew?
I can’t see his face, but I can feel how tense Mikhail is. His entire body is
rigid, solid stone held together with thick wire. His anger radiates into the air,
leaving everyone within a two-foot radius of him shifting away in discomfort
out of fear that a fight might break out any moment.
“I’m going to say it one more time,” Mikhail hisses. “Leave. Us. Alone.”
Konstantin shrugs, gesturing with his hands out in front of him. There
isn’t an ounce of aggression in his posture. He’s totally calm, collected.
When I look at his eyes, however, any trace of warmth I thought I detected
has vanished. His misty blue gaze is cold and dead like a shark. It’s chilling.
He speaks in Russian. Mikhail snaps something back, the hard
pronunciation of Cyrillic vowels and consonants harsh. He sounds even more
commanding in Russian. It shouldn’t be this much of a turn on, yet…
Mikhail gets in the last word—whatever the hell it is—and Konstantin
puts his hands up in surrender. I find myself being dragged out of the lounge.
The cool evening air hits my skin, sending a chill clawing over my flesh.
“Let go of me,” I snap, jerking my hand away. “God, you’re the worst!”
He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he simply huffs as he waves to
someone down the street. “Feeling’s mutual, sweetheart.”
A valet shows up not even thirty seconds later, rolling up to the curb in a
fancy Porsche 911. Mikhail is given his keys, already moving to slide into the
driver’s seat.
“Get in. I’m taking you home.”
I shake my head. “I’m not leaving.”
“I’m not going to tell you again.”
“I can’t leave my friend here. That’s such a shitty thing to do.”
“I’ve already called a private car for her. It will pick her up and take her
home. Get in the car.”
“Not until you tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Now, Aurora.”
“I don’t take kindly to your tone,” I point out as I reach for the passenger-
side door.
“I’ll make a mental note of it.”
The second I’ve got my seatbelt on, he peels away from the curb and
shifts into traffic. He drives like a damn maniac, weaving in and out of lanes
and taking turns much too sharp for my liking. Despite the obvious rage
boiling beneath the surface, I still feel oddly safe with him. A sane woman
would steer clear of this asshole, but only I seem to see past his outer layer.
Deep inside, this man is scared. Of what, I can’t quite say, but I’m
determined to figure it out.
I’m surprised when we pull up to my apartment building. He didn’t once
ask me for directions.
“How do you know where I live?” I ask, incredulous.
“You gave it to payroll, remember?”
“You read my employee file?” I shake my head. “What the fuck is the
matter with you?”
“Go inside, Aurora.” His grip on the steering wheel is knuckle white.
“Quickly. Before I change my mind.”
“Change your mind?” I echo. “What are you talking about?”
“Were you really going to let him fuck you?” His question rings loudly in
my ear.
I cross my arms over my chest, indignant and rightfully pissy as hell. “I
don’t owe you an explanation.”
“Like fuck you don’t.”
“I should let someone fuck me. You certainly won’t!” I undo my seatbelt
in a hurry, reaching for the door handle with an angry groan. “If you want to
let some imaginary husband of mine get in the way, fine.”
“Imaginary?”
“It’s my mother’s ring, Mikhail. To remember her by.”
I slam the door and hurry into the building, climbing the two flights of
stairs to get to my second-floor apartment. I know he’s following close on my
tail, his footsteps heavy and rushed against the ugly brown hallway carpet.
It’s a chase now, a game of cat and mouse. I don’t slow down, hastily shifting
through my small clutch for my keys. As soon as I get it open, I feel the hard
press of his body against my back.
He pushes the door open, pushes me, before kicking it shut behind him.
Mikhail pins my back against the entryway wall, his hands on either side of
my head, caging me in. We’re both breathless, teetering on something
dangerous. Mikhail’s close, lips hovering just above mine.
“Your mother’s?” he croaks. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?”
“Why didn’t you ask?
His nostrils flare, his chest rising and falling laboriously. Oh, he knows
I’m right and he hates it. Mikhail presses his lips into a thin line, the muscles
in his jaw twitching. I don’t know what he’s waiting for. Permission, maybe?
Or does he want me to push him? He seems to like it when I put up a bit of a
fight.
I grab his tie and pull him toward me. Our lips crash together, a beautiful
disaster of heated moans and clicking teeth. When I feel him sink deeper into
the kiss, I shove him away. Our eyes are locked on each other as I step back
slowly in the direction of my bedroom.
“Get out,” I mumble as I slip out of my shoes.
Mikhail approaches one step at a time, shrugging off his suit jacket. “Is
that really what you want?”
My heart skips a beat.
I slip the straps of my dress off my shoulders, nibbling my bottom lip.
Wet heat pools between my legs, my core throbbing with delicious
anticipation. “You shouldn’t tease me.”
His eyes darken as he removes his tie and abandons it to the floor.
“Why’s that?”
 “Kittens have claws, you know. I’m not afraid to use them.”
Mikhail unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt, exposing his thick
neck and peak of his collarbones. “Scratch me up good, kisa. I plan to do the
same to you.”
I lick my lips, officially standing in the doorway of my room. “How do
you want me, sir?”
“Screaming,” is all he says before he pounces.
Mikhail’s on top of me like a panther, his strong arms easily pinning me
to his body. Our mouths wrestle for dominance, but it’s only a matter of time
before I give in. He comes out on top, tongue slipping into my mouth to
explore my taste. With one hand fisted in my hair, he easily yanks my dress
off my body. I’m pretty sure I hear one of the seams rip. I make a mental note
to buy Charlotte a new one.
In the blink of an eye, Mikhail throws me over his shoulder. He gives my
ass a hard squeeze, the sting igniting the fire simmering deep within my core.
He deposits me on my bed without any semblance of grace. Mikhail’s deft
hands strip me of my bra and panties, so swift in his movements there’s
hardly time to register what he’s done.
“Misha,” I whimper, my core aching for his touch. “Please, Misha—”
Mikhail rolls me over easily and claps me on the ass. Once, twice. I
wouldn’t be surprised if he left his handprint on my skin. The mere thought
of it makes my insides all warm and fuzzy. It would be so nice to be marked
by him, like I belong to him.
“That’s sir to you,” he growls.
I press my knees together, so terribly wet I’m worried I’m about to ruin
my sheets before the fun’s even started. “Sorry, sir,” I mumble.
The wonderful metallic rip of his zipper sends goosebumps crawling
down my arms. I can barely hear anything over my own ragged breath and
thudding heart. The shuffling of his clothes as he undresses, the shift of the
sheets beneath his weight. When I feel something hot and hard resting against
the dip between my cheeks, I realize his cock is out.
I attempt to turn to look, too curious and intrigued to remain still. I
haven’t seen Mikhail naked since the night of the party. I want to take him in,
drink in all the glorious details. Unfortunately, he seems to have other plans.
His free hand flies to my hair, keeping my head still and facing forward.
“Are you on anything?” he asks, breath hot against my ear. The weight of
his body on top of me is oddly comforting, like a heated blanket in the dead
of winter.
“I’m on birth control,” I reply, though my words are mostly muffled by
the blankets beneath my face.
Behind me, Mikhail hums in satisfaction. “That’s my girl.”
I preen at his sweet words, a soft moan escaping my chest when I feel the
blunt tip of his cock nudging my entrance. I grip the sheets, toes curling,
waiting with bated breath for the moment he finally penetrates me.
Mikhail buries his cock in me, the burn of the stretch as pleasurable as it
is shocking. I’m suddenly so full it knocks the air out of my lungs. His grip in
my hair remains steadfast as he thrusts, strong and hard and measured, the
slap of our skin and the creak of my bed beneath us punctuated by the sounds
of our moans.
“Fuck,” I whine against my pillows. Heat coils in the pit of my stomach,
pleasure rushing through my veins. He moves with purpose and force, the
head of his cock sweeping over my sweet spot with every roll of his hips.
“So nice and tight,” he grunts against my ear. “Fuck, you feel better than I
ever could have imagined.”
My walls flutter around his shaft, the heat that’s been growing inside me
suddenly erupting into a glorious explosion of pure bliss. I writhe beneath
him, moaning so loud I swear my next-door neighbors are going to file a
noise complaint.
Mikhail strokes my back, his touch far more tender than I expected.
“Came for me already, did you?” he says, amusement dripping off his
every word. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You’re practically dripping for me.”
“M-Misha—”
“Don’t worry, kisa. I’m not finished with you yet.”
CHAPTER 12
 MIKHAIL

H er voice is a symphony of wanton moans.

I roll her onto her back, nudging her thighs apart with my knees.
I’ve got her wrists pinned above her head with one hand as I kiss her
greedily, drinking in the sounds of her lewd cries. She moves beautifully
beneath me, her back arching and hips bucking to meet my every thrust.
She feels like Heaven, so wonderfully soft beneath my exploratory touch.
A part of me wants to be gentle, to handle her with the utmost care, but the
feral look in her eyes tells me that would be a mistake. Aurora isn’t fragile. I
knew the second I saw her at the auction that she’s tough and strong and can
give as good as she can take.
I mouth at the crook of her neck, roam my palm over her breasts to give
them a firm squeeze. Aurora’s legs quake around me, circling my hips to
keep me flush against her. She grasps at my shirt, whining in discontent.
“What’s wrong?” I ask against her cheek.
“You’re still wearing clothes,” she complains. “Take it off.”
I click my tongue, nibbling at her ear lobe. “You have it all wrong. I tell
you what to do.”
“But—”
“Spread your legs wider.”
Aurora is a sight to behold. I like the way I cover her entire body with
mine, so small and perfect in ways I can’t even begin to explain. The pink
flush of her skin and her swollen lips only make me yearn for more. I want
her to feel me in her bones. I need her voice hoarse with pleasure. Who was I
kidding? All this time trying to keep my distance, yet now I see it was
inevitable; we’re two unstoppable objects destined for a collision course.
 She shatters around my cock, her walls clenching as her orgasm takes her
over the edge yet again. Aurora’s mouth falls open, a deep moaning ripping
itself from her throat. Her hair spills over her pillow like a red halo, sweat
causing a few strands to stick to the sides of her face.
“One more,” I tell her.
Aurora shivers. “S-slow down.”
I don’t listen. Instead, I pick up speed. She yelps, her gasps of pleasure
muffled by our passionate kisses.
“You take me so well,” I murmur. “So nice and deep.”
“Ooh, fuck— Misha, please slow—”
“You want this. I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me at the
office. You’ve wanted my cock inside you since the party.”
“I haven’t—”
“Say it.”
“Yes!” she cries. “Yes, fuck, I’ve wanted you since the party. I’ve wanted
you to bend me over your desk and pound me hard.”
“What my girl wants, my girl gets.”
I grab her harshly by the waist, thrusting into her with speed and force. I
aim the head of my cock against her sweet spot, feeling her pussy walls
flutter around my shaft as she draws closer and closer toward release. I’m
tempted to draw it out this time. There’d be nothing more delicious than to
have Aurora delirious and begging, but I decide against it. Maybe I have a
soft spot for her. I reach between us, sweeping my thumb over her swollen
clit, drawing tight circles against her in tandem with my thrusts.
This time, her orgasm comes with a silent scream. Her whole body
trembles, muscles tightening and core spasming with pleasure. I kiss her
hard, sliding my tongue into her mouth to claim her tight breaths as mine.
I’m close, barely hanging on, but I desperately want this to last. Because
when everything is said and done, what happens next? Do we go to work
tomorrow and pretend nothing happened? Are we supposed to act like this is
a one and done deal?
The answers are already sitting in the front of my brain. Like hell are we
going back to ignoring each other. This is too good. What we have—it’s
explosive and raw and now that I’ve had a taste, I want her morning, noon,
and night. Between meetings, in the copy room, well after all the employees
have gone home and I can bend her over my desk whenever I see fit.
Aurora whines. “I’m gonna—Oh God!”
 This time when she unravels, I come with her. Ecstasy explodes from
deep within my core, a flood of heat rushing through my veins. I spill into her
as I continue to pump my hips, filling her tight pussy until she’s overflowing
with me.
Aurora reaches up with a shaky hand, fingers lightly caressing my cheeks.
I wrap my arms around her and hold her close, rolling us over so we’re curled
up on her small bed. It’s a tight fit, but we make it work, her little body
tucked up against mine. I’m careful to cover her with blankets, smoothing my
hands over her skin wherever I’ve left marks. They’re definitely going to be
obvious in the morning.
I’m not at all surprised when Aurora’s eyes slowly shut, sleep dragging
her under. It’s safe to say I’ve worn her out. She breathes steadily, a smile
upon her lips. In this quiet moment, I allow myself to take in her beauty,
along with all the little details I haven’t allowed myself to be close enough to
notice.
She has freckles, I realize. They’re incredibly light and barely there, but I
marvel with mild amusement nonetheless when I notice a thin train crossing
the bridge of her nose. She has a tiny scar just above her right eyebrow, too.
A childhood accident, perhaps? I want to ask her about it, but the longer I lay
here, the more restless I become. There’s too much on my mind, too many
problems I’m trying to juggle.
Konstantin being the biggest and most annoying of all.
He got too close. Way too close to her. I’m not sure if it was on purpose.
My uncle texted me well before Aurora and her friend showed up at The Red
Orchid. That couldn’t have been planned. But just because it was a
coincidence, Konstantin now knows about her. He may not have all the
details, but I wouldn’t put it past the bastard to look into her. The more I
think about him, the more pissed off I get.
He’s in New York in the flesh. What the hell is he doing? This is getting
out of hand. It’s one thing for him to harass me via call and text, but now? At
least before when I thought there was an ocean and several countries between
us, I had some semblance of security. There’s no way Konstantin would have
been able to force us to join the Antonov Bratva from all the way over in
Russia. But now that he’s here in person…
Things could get ugly.
When I entered The Red Orchid, I couldn’t tell if any of his men were
with him. It was too crowded and too dimly lit. If I’m being honest, I wasn’t
able to focus on much else once I realized he had his filthy fucking hands on
Aurora. From here on out, I have to proceed with caution. I remember very
little about my uncle, but what I do remember is that he’s ruthless. The one
guaranteed characteristic that runs through the Antonov family is we always
get what we want.
I have ways of getting to you, dear nephew, is what he said to me just as I
dragged Aurora out of there. You will join me, of your own free will, or…
otherwise.
I can’t keep this from my brothers any longer. I need to tell them
everything. It’s time for a family meeting.
Carefully, I roll out of bed. Aurora sleepily reaches for me, mumbling
something that sounds a lot like “I’m cold,” but does not wake. As swiftly
and silently as I’m able, I tuck her in and press a chaste kiss to her forehead.
A part of me wants to stay but deciding what to do about my uncle
unfortunately takes priority.
The first thing I do when I leave the apartment complex is call Dimitri.
“Dude,” he grumbles into the receiver. “It’s three in the morning.”
“Call Pytor, Luka,” I tell him, “and Mother.”
I hear something shuffling in the background. My brother must be getting
out of bed. “Everything alright?”
“No, it most certainly is not.”
CHAPTER 13
 AURORA

C harlotte huffs and rolls her eyes for the umpteenth time this morning.
She stomps around our small kitchen, slamming cupboards and roughly
shutting drawers as she prepares her breakfast.
“I didn’t realize making oatmeal was such a laborious process,” I
comment dryly.
“You left without a word!” she snaps.
“I already said I was sorry.”
“Who does that?”
“Charlotte, I really didn’t mean to—”
“Some weirdo came up to me saying he’d been instructed to drive me
home,” she rambles on. “I swear to God I thought I was going to be
kidnapped or something! I was this close to calling the cops on the guy, but
he really was an Uber driver. I tipped the guy triple because I felt so bad for
calling him a predator to his face. And then, to make things even worse, I
come back to the apartment—bank account empty and my feet sore from
walking all over the lounge in my heels searching for you—only to find the
whole place smells of sex!”
I grimace into my bowl of cereal. “Well, when you put it that way…”
“What about chicks before dicks, hm? You could have at least shot me a
text.”
My cheeks flush with heat. “We… left in a hurry. And after we were
done, I was so tuckered I—”
“What? That you forgot?”
“I’m really, really sorry,” I say earnestly.
Charlotte plops down in the chair beside me, her lips pressed into a thin
line. She points the tip of her spoon at me accusatorily. “You owe me big,
woman. I need all the details. I was so busy looking for you that I shot down
every guy who so much as glanced in my direction. This one-night stand
better have been worth ditching me, I swear to God.”
I lick my lips. I do kind of owe her an explanation; I just don’t know how
explicit she wants me to be when she’s in the middle of stuffing apple
cinnamon oatmeal into her cheeks like a chipmunk. I unconsciously rub my
neck, fingers tracing over the very obvious hickey Mikhail left behind on my
pale skin.
“He was… good,” I mumble. “Really good.”
Charlotte arches a brow. “That’s it?”
I shrug. “What more do you want to know?”
“Did he go down on you?”
“I… No?”
My best friend scoffs derisively. “Ugh, men.”
“It was still great, though,” I insist. “We were just so… hot and heavy
that we went straight to fucking.”
“Big?”
“Enormous.”
“And he clearly likes it rough,” she says, her eyes sweeping over my
body. I’m covered in marks, some redder than others. I was as surprised as
anyone when I found bite marks on my ass this morning in the shower.
“Yeah, well. I like it rough, too,” I mumble sheepishly.
“And you’re telling me he didn’t stay overnight? I would have liked to
meet Mr. Grey in person.”
I shake my head slowly, ignoring the tightness in my chest. When I woke
up this morning to the sound of my alarm, I was admittedly disappointed to
find Mikhail gone. I want to be mad, of course. Who fucks a woman like that
and leaves without a word?
Then again, Mikhail is a busy man. A CEO, in fact, running a massive
cybersecurity company. I can’t exactly picture him sleeping in. What was I
expecting? A thank you card? Maybe a bouquet of flowers? The romantic in
me would like that very much, but the realist in me tells me that would never
happen. Mikhail doesn’t exactly come across as the lovey-dovey type. He’s
more feral animal, if anything.
The butterflies in my stomach flutter at the thought of seeing him at work
today. It felt like everything last night had come to a boiling point. What
happens now that the kettle has been taken off the burner? How am I
supposed to deal with the fact that I slept with my boss?
A quick glance at the kitchen clock tells me I don’t have a lot of time to
worry myself into an anxiety attack. I need to get going or I’ll be late, and I’d
really rather deal with one glaring problem at a time.
“I really am sorry,” I tell Charlotte again. “You’re right. I should have
told you we were leaving. I have no excuse, and I really hope you can forgive
me. It will never happen again, I promise.”
Charlotte smiles gently. “Oh, babe. I forgave you hours ago. I was mostly
just upset because I didn’t know if you were okay.”
“That’s fair.”
“Besides, it seems your friend did more than his fair share of punishing,
wouldn’t you say?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.
I ignore the heat filling my face. “You’re such a brat.”
“Face it, you love me.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. “Unfortunately.”

Charlie is nowhere to be found.

It strikes me as odd. I’ve grown used to his constant jabs and
unnecessarily boisterous voice that it feels almost empty without him here—
not that he’s missed or anything. There’s a strange tension in the air I can’t
ignore, though. The remaining Tech Bros work diligently at their desks,
keeping their heads down as they plug away at their coding projects. In the
entire week I’ve been here, this is the first time I’ve actually seen them work.
I take my seat, wary. Maybe Charlie’s gone to the bathroom or
something. I half expect him to pop out at any moment to give me a scare—
because he’s a dick and has the mental maturity of a twelve-year-old—but
nothing happens. As the minutes roll into hours, it’s been nothing but smooth
sailing. By the time lunch rolls around, I’ve finally had enough.
“Did Charlie call in sick or something?” I ask Timothy.
He peeks up at me over his laptop. “You didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?”
“Luka gave him the pink slip last night,” Buck explains.
My heart skips a beat. He won’t bother you again, I’ll make sure of it.
 Did Mikhail have something to do with this? Worry pricks at the back of
my neck. Oh, God. Did he fire him because of the comments he made
yesterday? The comments were disgusting and misogynistic, but surely, they
warranted a warning instead of being fired outright.
I sit at my desk, uncomfortable. Do the Tech Bros think he was fired
because of me? Do they resent me? What if this results in them treating me
even worse?
“It’s just as well,” Lincoln mutters from his end of the table. “He was
distracting the team.”
David’s the one who whispers to me. “Apparently Luka’s been evaluating
our work from the very beginning. He’s got some rubric he’s marking us
against. If you fall below a certain work satisfaction percentile, you get
canned.”
I swallow, my throat terribly dry. Silently, I call bullshit. I’m really
starting to think Mikhail had something to do with Charlie’s firing, and this
work performance thing is all some massive cover to spare me. I’m not sure
if I should feel grateful or indignant that Mikhail felt the need to rescue me.
We both agreed I had everything under control.
I tinker away on my project for a few more seconds before vacating my
chair. I need to know, and there’s only one man who has the answers.
Approaching Mikhail’s office, I realize the door has been shut. Unusual.
When I peek in through the glass walls, I see all the Antonov brothers
gathered in his office. Dimitri, Pyotr, and Luka have their backs to me, so I
can’t see their faces, but their body language…
Something isn’t right.
There’s angry gesturing, tense shoulders, aggressive movements. They’re
shouting, I think, though their voices are muffled by the glass. The only
person I can see is Mikhail. He’s seated in his chair, elbow resting on his
desk with one hand partially covering his lips. His brows are knitted together
into a steep frown, his jaw a sharp line. Everything about him is tense, from
the muscles in his neck and shoulders to the dark glare of his eyes.
I walk right past his door and continue down the hall until I’ve rounded
the corner, out of sight. My ears burn, curious to know what’s going on. I can
only get bits and pieces, and the brothers’ voices are so low that it’s difficult
for me to distinguish who’s actually speaking.
“Something more going on…”
“...told us sooner, Misha!”
 “We’re not Bratva. Tell the fucker we’re never joining him. Not after
what he did to our father.”
The sound of the door swinging open rapidly makes me jolt. Dimitri is
the first to storm out, narrowly missing crashing into me as he turns the
corner. His usual carefree, charming air is gone, replaced with fury. He
doesn’t even apologize for our near run-in, instead continuing down the hall
and out of sight.
“I’ll talk to him,” I hear Pyotr say just out of earshot.
“It’s business as usual until I figure out what to do,” Mikhail says, his
words tinged with something heavy and bitter.
I peek around the corner, heart thudding in my chest. What on Earth is
going on? Is it business related? What does it sound so… personal?
Bratva.
The word echoes around inside my skull, my mind tugging at a distant
memory. When I was a little girl, my mother used to read all manner of
thriller novels. Her favorites had to do with international super spies tasked
with putting away members of some of the world’s most dangerous crime
organizations. From the Chinese Triads, the Japanese Yakuza, the Italian
Mafia, and…
Russian Bratva.
My mother never let me read her books. Too violent, she’d say. But that
didn’t stop me from taking a quick peek one afternoon while she was out
getting groceries. She was right—really violent. The stories were fictional,
but I’m sure the author must have pulled inspiration from somewhere
truthful.
It feels strange to hear about it in real life, and from the Antonov brothers,
no less.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, unsure what to do or think. Perhaps I
misheard. The glass walls are pretty thick, after all. I’m sure there’s a
perfectly reasonable explanation—
“How much did you hear?”
I yelp, taking a frantic step back when Mikhail appears out of the corner
of my eye. “You—I didn’t—”
“Eavesdropping is rude, Ms. Foster.”
I grit my teeth, feeling fiery. I don’t like being caught off-guard. “So is
leaving without saying goodbye.”
Mikhail’s jaw ticks. I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or amused. His handsome
face is stupidly difficult to read. “With me,” he says before turning to leave.
“Where are we going?”
“Now, Foster.”
I huff in frustration but follow him all the same. We make our way down
the hall, headed toward the elevators. We step into the next car together.
When he presses 20, I make a face at him.
“Care to explain, or are you going to keep me guessing?”
Mikhail wears a smug smile but says nothing. I cross my arms. God, why
does he have to be so insufferable? And why do I like it so much? My head
must be broken, because when the elevator doors slide open, I follow
willingly.
The entire floor houses several large rooms dedicated entirely to a section
of the company’s servers. Nobody is down here, the computers self-sufficient
in running themselves. Unless one of the systems goes off-line, there’s no
need for a technician to come down here. We’re alone.
He knows it.
I know it.
And then he pounces.
CHAPTER 14
 MIKHAIL

I praise the powers that be that Aurora chose to wear a skirt today. It makes
pulling down her panties and running my fingers over her pussy that much
easier. I claim her lips, hungrier than I’ve ever been. Last night was a feast,
but I’m determined to come back for seconds, thirds, and fourths.
“H-here?” she gasps, though she makes no effort to push me away.
Instead, she clings to my shoulders and holds on tight, raising one leg up to
hook over my hip. She’s already wet with anticipation, grinding against me
with a soft moan.
It would be easy to get lost in her. She’s a tempting treat, a glorious
distraction.
But I need answers.
“How much did you hear?” I ask her again, a low growl in her ear.
Aurora pulls back slightly, swallowing hard. “Hear what?”
“I know you were listening, Aurora.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
She chews on the inside of her cheek, peering deeply into my eyes. I can
see her thinking, can practically hear the gears whirring inside her brain.
I know she heard something. When my brothers get angry, they get loud.
There’s a good chance she heard something she shouldn’t have. My business
with Konstantin is just that—my business. I refuse to drag Aurora into this
mess. The less she knows, the better.
“Are you and your brothers Russian Mob?” she asks quietly.
Well, shit. That throws a wrench in things.
I pull away. I need to figure out a way to spin this. Aurora only has her
suspicions. If I play this right—
Aurora blinks up at me. I can tell there’s a myriad of questions bubbling
up just beneath the surface.
“What’s going on, Mikhail?” she continues. “Does this have anything to
do with last night? What about your uncle, Konstantin?”
“Don’t ever mention that man’s name in front of me again,” I snap. It
comes out much harsher than I intend it to.
“What are you hiding?” she asks, persistent as ever.
“It has nothing to do with you.”
“You’re not saying no.”
She stares at me, refusing to let me off the hook. Her eyes bore into me,
too damn keen and sharp for her own good. I should lie. Come up with a
believable story. Something. But the longer I stare into her baby blues, the
more I feel my resolve crumbling. I don’t want to lie to her. Wouldn’t I rather
she be informed? That way she can make a proper decision.
That way, she won’t have to feel guilty about staying away.
This thing—us—is too complicated. I’m her boss, twice her age, and I
have my crazy son of a bitch uncle chasing after me like he has a recruitment
quota to meet. I don’t want to scare Aurora, but wouldn’t that make things
easier? A clean break. No hard feelings. I wouldn’t blame her for wanting
nothing to do with me.
Deep down, I know I don’t deserve nice things. That’s why I take them,
sometimes break them. And Aurora is the nicest of them all. It would be such
a shame if she wound up hurt—or even worse—because of me. Maybe I
should lean into it. Scare her off before things get really out of hand.
“What if I say yes?” I ask her, low and measured. “What if I tell you I
come from Bratva royalty? That I’m a dangerous man.”
Aurora stares at me but does not falter. “Ridiculous,” she says after a
moment, a whisper. “You’re not dangerous.”
“Aurora—”
“Mikhail.”
“You’re infuriating, you know that?”
She grins. “Something tells me you like it.”
I find myself glancing down at her lips again, so soft and full and
tantalizingly close. What on Earth is this woman made of? Why can’t I find
the strength to pull away? She makes no effort to move away, either. We’re
caught in each other’s orbit, drawn together by some unforeseeable and
overpowering force.
Aurora tilts her chin up just so, a challenging glint in her eyes. I press
forward to claim her lips, only for Aurora to press her fingers lightly against
my mouth.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks, almost light enough to be a
tease.
“I was going to give you a repeat performance of last night.”
“Nuh-uh,” she says with a light shake of her head. “You want to kiss me?
That’s going to cost you.”
“Fishing for a raise already?”
“Not money. Answers.”
I sigh, thoroughly fed up. “Listen, if you don’t drop the matter this instant
—”
My answer is cut short when she suddenly moves to palm my cock over
my pants. She gives my shaft the lightest of squeezes, a wave of pleasure
sweeping through me.
“What?” she goads. “Are you going to punish me, sir?”
I finally snap.
As quick as lightning, I grasp her by the waist and spin her around,
pinning her smaller frame between my chest and the nearest wall. I hike up
her skirt, the fabric gathering at her hips, before I hastily undo my belt and
free my aching cock from its confines.
“Misha—”
“You really know how to push my buttons. Now it’s time for me to teach
you a lesson.”
Shoving the thin fabric of her panties aside, I slowly drag the head of my
cock over her soft folds. Aurora is wet and waiting for me, her legs trembling
slightly in anticipation. It would be easy to bury myself between her lovely
thighs, but if it’s punishment she wants, it’s punishment she’ll get.
I tease her, taking my sweet time admiring her in this pose. There’s
something incredibly lovely about seeing her all flushed, bent over for me
like a presentation. I sometimes press the head against her entrance only to
pull back again, greedily squeezing her ass with my free hand as she
whimpers in disappointment.
“Come on,” she whines, tight and breathless. Aurora tries to back up onto
me herself, but my hand in her hair is all it takes to regain control of the
situation.
 “Not yet.”
“But I—”
“I told you. This is your punishment. If you keep sticking your nose
where it doesn’t belong, I’m not going to touch you.”
Aurora twists her head to the side and manages to give me an indignant
huff over her shoulder. “This isn’t fair, Mikhail.”
“No one said it was. Now, tell me how much you want my cock.”
She licks her lips, swallows. “I want it.”
“You don’t sound very convincing. Try again.”
She groans, her hands clenching into tight fists on the wall she’s braced
against. “I… I want your cock inside me, sir. Please, fuck me like you did last
night. I want to feel you so deep.”
“And you won’t ask any more questions?”
“I don’t…”
“Say it, Aurora. If you promise to forget everything you heard, I’ll give
you the fuck of a lifetime.”
She shivers, a soft light bubbling past her lips. The tension in her muscles
melts away as she finds it within herself to let go. It’s a sweet surrender.
“Fine,” Aurora mumbles. “I’ll drop it. I didn’t hear anything.”
I growl, snaking my arm around her waist as I press my chest to her back,
covering her completely. I nudge the head of my cock past her entrance,
causing her to gasp in delight.
“That’s my girl,” I murmur against her ear. “You have nothing to worry
about. I will take care of everything.”
Her pussy clenches around my cock, sucking me in further, deeper. Her
wet heat surrounds me, walls fluttering around my shaft. The friction is
delectable, her sweet moans of pleasure sweeter still.
“I have everything under control,” I grunt against her temple. “Say it,
Aurora.”
She squeaks. “You have… You have everything under control.”
My cadence is slow, but rough. Her little gasps and moans spur me on.
The scent of her vanilla shampoo soaks into my lungs, intoxicating.
Everything about her is a thrill, a pure shot of adrenaline straight to the heart.
“That’s right, kisa. You have nothing to worry about. Just concentrate on
feeling good.”
“Ooh, fuck.”
“Tell me what you need.”
 “I need—” she rasps. “Touch me.”
“What’s the magic word?”
“Seriously?” she snaps.
“I’m nothing if not serious, Aurora. Now, try again.”
She exhales sharply, exasperated. “Please. Please, touch me.”
“Good girl.”
I allow my hand to slip down, fingers sliding over her needy clit. She lets
out a low groan, tremors shaking her body as release finds her. Climax hits
me, too, so hard and fast it blanks my mind and causes stars to fly across my
vision.
We remain melded together, catching our breath, savoring the afterglow.
She’s radiant, her skin flushed and her hair wild. I can’t help but kiss her,
adoring how she pulls me even closer.
“Let me take you to dinner,” I say.
“Aren’t you doing things a little out of order if you’re trying to wine and
dine me?”
I chuckle. “Do I look like the kind of guy who—”
Before I can finish my sentence, my phone starts buzzing violently in my
pocket. Text alert after text alert, it sounds like it’s two seconds away from
exploding. We quickly readjust our clothes, Aurora hastily smoothing her
skirt while running her fingers through her hair, before I check on my phone.
It’s a series of urgent alerts from Luka.

We’ve got a problem.

System’s under attack.
There’s a virus holding our data ransom.
Where the hell are you? Answer!
This is bad, Misha. Get your ass up here, now!

“Everything alright?” Aurora asks me.

“We need to get back upstairs. Something’s going down.”
CHAPTER 15
 AURORA

I t feels like the whole building is in a state of panic. Luka’s gathered all the
employees in his division together, a stern look on his face. In the week
I’ve known him, I’ve only known my supervisor to be a calm and collected
man—albeit grumpy. The fact that his face is as white as a sheet tells me all I
need to know about the gravity of the situation. Something terrible has
happened.
“We’ve had a security breach,” Luka explains gravely at the head of the
room. “Someone apparently clicked on a link from an unverified sender.” He
sends a very pointed glare in Buck’s direction.
My fellow intern shrinks in on himself like a child who’s been caught
stealing. “I mistook it for my personal email,” he insists in a small voice. I
wonder if I’m going to see a grown man cry today.
Luka continues with a disapproving sneer. “As it stands, the firewall I’ve
built has isolated the virus, but not for long. From what I can tell, it’s
ransomware. It has approximately 30% of our clients’ data locked away.”
My heart twists in my chest. It might not sound like a lot, but to a
company like CyberFort, that’s a massive breach. I suddenly understand
everyone’s urgency. If word gets out that CyberFort, one of the world’s
leading cybersecurity companies got hacked themselves… the company
could lose millions. Mikhail might lose a ton of clients. It’d ruin his
company’s reputation. Who wants to work with a cybersecurity team that
can’t even keep themselves secure?
“Have you been contacted by the person who sent the ransom?” I ask in a
loud, clear voice.
Luka shakes his head. “Not yet, though I suspect we’ll be hearing from
them shortly. I have to assume they’re waiting to break through the rest of the
firewall to claim more data before giving us a ransom amount.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” I ask, already moving toward my
workstation. “We need to isolate the virus and delete it before it can corrupt
any more of our servers.”
“We’re trying,” Timothy says, joining me at the table. “But it looks like
the virus has locked us out of the system, too. They were counting on our
inability to act for the virus to spread.”
I shake my head, quickly prying open my laptop. I try logging in with my
password, but I get an error message. I try again, but the same thing happens.
He’s right. We’ve been locked out of our own system. There’s no telling how
long Luka’s firewall—as expertly crafted as it may be—will last.
“There’s always another way in,” I mutter to myself. “We just have to
think outside the box.”
Mikhail approaches, pulling up a chair next to me. “Tell me what you’re
thinking.”
“Ransomware viruses are relatively simple,” I rattle off. I know he knows
this, but right now verbal vomit is the only way I can concentrate. “Buck
clicking that link—”
“Hey!” he interjects.
“Oh, shut up,” Luka snaps. “We all know it was you.”
Mikhail puts up a finger, silencing everyone. His eyes are trained on me,
focused. “Go on, Aurora.”
“Clicking the link allowed the sender a window into our system through
Buck’s profile. I wouldn’t be surprised if the person duplicated his ID in
order to access the files they wanted. Now that they’re inside our system,
they’ve probably set it so that anyone with CyberFort profiles has been
flagged, and therefore restricted access. They’re using your own firewall
against you.”
“You’re sure?” he asks me.
“I wrote a couple of ransomware virus codes in college. You know, for
fun. Anything outside of infiltrate, copy, and lockout gets really confusing.”
“What do you propose we do, then?” Luka asks.
Mikhail studies my expression with such intensity I swear he can hear my
thoughts. “We need to break into our own servers,” he says aloud. “With a
clean computer, without ID. That way your firewall won’t identify us.”
I nod. “Exactly.”
 Mikhail stands, addressing all the gathered programmers. “Get this
woman a fresh computer. Anything she needs.”
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“You, Luka, and the rest of the team will take care of the technical
aspects. I need to deal with the business side of things. Keep this thing from
blowing up.”
We get to work. It’s a race against the clock.

My eyes hurt. There’s a terrible pressure that’s pounding on the inside of my

skull. I’ve been staring at my screen for so long I’m convinced I’ve done
permanent damage to my retinas.
I’ve spent the last several hours poring over different sections of code.
The whole department is working just as hard, attempting to find and isolate
the virus before it can mutate and spread to other parts of the server. It’s
worse than trying to find a needle in a haystack, and infinitely more difficult,
too.
What we’re looking for is hiding in plain sight. A line of code, a string of
only a few different digits. It’s not tangible, nothing I can pick up with my
hands. All I have to work with is my computer screen and my wits—even if
I’m at the end of them.
“Where the fuck is it?” I grumble.
Beside me, Luka furiously taps away on his own laptop. Empty paper
coffee cups and energy drink cans pile up around us, adding to the chaos of
our late-night frenzy. The life of a computer programmer isn’t glamorous. It’s
not like the movies where some cool Tom Cruise lookalike taps a few keys
and boom—they’re in.
I’ve been keeping an eye on Mikhail out of the corner of my eye. Dimitri
and Pyotr are with him in his office. Much like their meeting earlier today,
their body language tells me things are less than pleasant on the other side of
those glass walls. I try not to let them distract me. Dimitri is head of PR, so
I’m sure they’re trying to come up with a game plan in case we can’t delete
the virus in time.
As I keep sectioning off blocks of code, I can’t help but wonder if this has
something to do with the Bratva. Mikhail told me to drop the issue, but the
sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach refuses to go away.
“So…” I start out slowly. “Antonov… That’s a Russian name, isn’t it?”
The fourth and youngest Antonov brother doesn’t even look up from his
screen, fingers flying over his keyboard so quickly they’re almost a blur.
“Yep,” is his simple, short reply.
“Ever been? To Russia, I mean.”
“Nope.”
Tap tap tap go his fingers. I don’t even think he’s breathing. I’m pretty
sure the third Red Bull he chugged is responsible for his amazing—and
frightening—level of concentration.
“What about Mikhail?”
“What about him?”
“Was he born there?” I try again, trying to keep my tone light and
friendly. I hope it’s not too obvious how badly I’m trying to fish for
information. If Mikhail won’t give me answers, maybe I can get them from
Luka while he’s thoroughly distracted. Surely, I can code and make idle chit
chat at the same time, right?
“My brothers were, yeah,” Luka mumbles.
“In Moscow?”
“Yep.”
“Why’d your family move?”
This is the moment he looks up at me. It’s a quick dart of the eyes, a
fleeting moment of interest, before it’s back to work as usual. Luka sits
across from me, offering me the perfect angle to study his face. He looks so
much like Mikhail, just without the impressive suits and more prominent dark
circles beneath his eyes. He is nowhere near as intimidating as Mikhail, or
even Dimitri and Pyotr, but the difference is slight.
The Antonov brothers are a powerhouse of a team and it shows.
“Why?” he asks.
“Curious.”
“Lyubopytnoy Varvare na bazare nos atarvali.”
I frown. “What?”
“Curious Varvara had her nose snatched at the market,” he translates.
“Is that your version of curiosity killed the cat?”
“You’re smart,” Luka says, flat and dry. “Now, get back to work.”
I press my lips into a thin line. Trying to learn more about Mikhail and
his brothers is proving to be like pulling teeth, a slow and painful process.
These Antonov men are some of the toughest nuts I’ve ever had to crack.
I’m about to get up for my fifth cup of coffee in the hopes of giving my
brain a much-needed energy boost when I see it. A gasp rushes out of me
when I manage to isolate a strange, fragmented section of code deep within
the CyberFort computer servers.
“I found it!” I exclaim, moving in to cut off the segment at the source.
With the press of a couple of buttons, I manage to remove this particular
subsection of the server from the rest of the network, elated that I was able to
pull it off. The virus is still alive and well, but at least now it won’t be able to
do any more harm.
“What happened?” Mikhail asks, rushing out of his office.
“She found it,” Luka explains. He’s moved to stand behind me, hovering
over my shoulder as I continue to work diligently.
I click my tongue, perturbed at what I find. “Don’t start celebrating yet,
boys. We’ve got a problem.”
Mikhail gets in close, standing just to my side. With one hand on the back
of my chair, he dips down to look at my screen. From what I’ve read, he’s an
accomplished computer engineer himself, but I spell it out for him anyways.
“I’m afraid the virus has corrupted the information in this sector. It’s not
much. Maybe five percent of all CyberFort’s client data.”
“Any way to tell which clients?”
I do a little digging. The virus has a chokehold on the files, but I’m still
able to glean an answer based off the file names alone. “Jonathan Young &
Co.”
Mikhail shoots his brothers a look; they know something I don’t. Their
tension lingers in the air, everyone visibly uncomfortable.
“Did you get a ransom amount?” Luka asks his brothers.
Mikhail nods. “He’s asking us to join again.”
“That’s it?”
“Afraid so.”
“So we either lose a client we… pursued,” Pyotr mumbles from the other
side of the table. “Or we give him what he wants.”
My ears burn. “How do you know the culprit is a man?”
Dimitri shrugs, wearing a charming grin. “We don’t.”
He’s asking us to join again.
I glance up at Mikhail, sensing his unease. This has to be related to the
Bratva. There’s no way all this is just a coincidence.
 “I can try and salvage the data,” I offer. “But it could take me a while,
and there’s no guarantee I can save it all. It looks like a good chunk is too
corrupted to repair.”
Mikhail places a hand on my shoulder. The contact is brief but
comforting. The warmth of his palm soothes the tightness in my muscles in
an instant.
“No need,” he says. “Luka will take care of it. I’ll smooth things over
with Young.”
“I really don’t mind.”
“You’ve done enough, Aurora.” And then, softly, “Thank you.”
The butterflies in my stomach flutter. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him
thank me before, and so earnestly. I’m tempted to stay. For whatever reason,
I want to prove myself to him. That I’m a capable member of the team.
But I take one look at the clock and see that it’s almost midnight. I’m
exhausted and on the brink of a serious caffeine crash. My eyes are so dry it’s
almost painful. What I really want right now is to crawl into bed and get
some well-deserved shut eye before I have to come back to work and start a
new day.
“Okay,” I say with a heavy sigh. “I’ll call it a day, then.”
“Good work,” Luka compliments. He’s stiff in his delivery, but I’m pretty
sure he’s sincere.
“I’ll walk you out,” Mikhail says as I gather my coat and bag.
I think about protesting. It’s really not necessary. But something about his
tone tells me there’s no point in arguing. Mikhail walks with me to the
elevator, a protective hand on the center of my back. He says nothing the
entire ride down to the ground floor, but I can sense something’s off.
“Misha?” I whisper as we step out into the lobby together. “Is everything
—”
“How are you getting home?” he asks, looking around. Everything about
him is stiff and on high alert.
“I just need to hop onto the subway, and then it’s a short ten-minute
walk.”
He shakes his head in disapproval. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I’ll drive you.”
“But—”
“Come on, kisa. Let’s get you home.”
CHAPTER 16
 MIKHAIL

I walk her straight to her door, keeping my eyes out for any signs of him.
The moment Luka told me someone had hacked into our system, I
knew it must have been Konstantin. He’s the only one brazen and stupid
enough to take CyberFort on alone. When he sent me a text not five minutes
later, he all but confirmed my suspicions.
We’re officially at war.
And if it wasn’t for Aurora, things could have taken a turn for the worse.
I’m not looking forward to my conversation with Jonathan Young. He’s
going to be pissed about the security breach, though I’m still holding out
hope that Luka will be able to find a backup copy somewhere within our
endless storage cloud. I trust we’ll be able to play it off like nothing
happened. Young will be none the wiser, and we’ll have foiled Konstantin’s
first attempt at twisting our arms.
The fact that he was able to get to us at all, however, is disconcerting. The
fact that our defenses were so easily circumvented by one fucking hyperlink
and an idiotic intern has me reeling. Buck should have known better. Now
he’s the second intern in as many days who gets the privilege of packing their
things and searching for a job elsewhere. A mistake, one that could have cost
me millions, is an inexcusable defense.
When I look over my shoulder for the umpteenth time, Aurora rolls her
eyes.
“Would you relax? You’re freaking me out.”
“Nothing wrong with being aware of your surroundings,” I retort.
“This is a safe neighborhood, Mikhail. You’re not going to get mugged.”
“That’s not what I’m concerned about.”
 “Right,” she replies dryly as she rifles through her bag for her keys.
“Muggers are the least of our concerns when we’ve got Russian mobsters to
worry about.”
I give her a pointed look. “I thought we agreed you’d drop that.”
“Oh, Misha,” she says with a light sigh, “we both know that was never
going to happen.”
“Aurora—”
All of a sudden, the apartment door swings open from the inside. Before
us stands another young woman with vibrant red hair and pretty blue eyes. In
many ways, she looks just like Aurora except—in my humble opinion—she’s
nowhere near as beautiful. Are they sisters, perhaps?
“I thought I heard voices out here,” the woman says, immediately giving
me a suspicious look from top to bottom. “And who might this be?”
Aurora smiles. “Cee, this is my… uh, boss, Mikhail Antonov. Mikhail,
this is my roommate, Charlotte.”
My ears prick up. So this is where Aurora got inspiration for her made-up
persona at the party. “Charlotte? How lovely to finally meet you in person.
Aurora talks so much about you.”
Charlotte’s eyes light up. “Is that so? I mean, why wouldn’t she? I’m
awesome.”
Aurora rolls her eyes, but I sense nothing but affection behind it. “I had to
stay at work longer than expected, so Mikhail wanted to make sure I got
home okay.”
“That’s so sweet! And they say chivalry is dead.”
I nod my head once. “This is where I leave you. I’ll see you at work
tomorrow.”
“Oh, don’t go!” Charlotte says, grasping my arm with a surprising
amount of strength. “I just finished making spaghetti. Why don’t you come in
for a bite?”
Aurora clears her throat. “Charlotte, it’s after midnight. I’m sure Mikhail
has better things to—”
“I could eat,” I say, stepping into the apartment. The look on Aurora’s
face is priceless, equal parts baffled and endearingly shy.
The last time I was here, I was in too much of a rush to take in the
surroundings. It’s cramped but cozy. The furniture is all mismatched, and
there’s a good amount of clutter on every available surface. Books stacked
like an awkward jigsaw on their overloaded shelves, nail polish bottles left
out on the coffee table in the living room, several houseplants in desperate
need of sunlight or water or both.
It’s easy to parse what belongs to Charlotte and what belongs to Aurora.
Flashy articles of clothing are piled on the couch in need of folding, but I can
tell they belong to the roommate because of their zany colors and patterns.
Even though they look to be her size, I honestly can’t picture Aurora wearing
the neon pink number with the bold cutouts. It’d be sexy as fuck, but I can’t
see it happening of her own free will.
I’m vaguely aware of the women chatting about their day—mainly
Charlotte pelting Aurora with all manner of questions—while I examine the
picture frames nailed to the walls. Most of them seem to belong to Charlotte.
Some of them are with her and some friends, her and her family, one
particularly entertaining image of her sunburnt to a near crips at Disneyland.
There are only a few pictures of Aurora, however. These are the ones I
gravitate to, my curiosity drawing me to them like a magnet. I get a glimpse
of what her life was like as a child. In one picture, she’s a young girl with an
unfortunate haircut complete with choppy bangs, a gap in her smile where
she’s missing a tooth. In another, it appears Aurora’s at some sort of high
school computer lab. She beams at the camera, presenting a simple line of
code on a clunky old computer.
The one that really captures my attention is the one of her and another
woman on the day of her graduation. She’s in a cap and gown, proudly
brandishing her high school degree to the camera. The lady beside her shares
many of her features—same red hair, same eyes, same smile. I’m not a
gambling man, but I’d wager this is her mother.
It’s my mother’s ring, Mikhail. To remember her by.
The absence of a father in any of the pictures is also glaringly obvious.
“Come on over, Mikhail,” Charlotte says, gesturing to the free seat beside
her. “I want to hear all about how Aurora’s doing at work. She rarely tells me
anything. Tell me all the juicy gossip.”
Aurora sighs. “There’s nothing to tell, Cee. My days are pretty standard.”
“Except when she saves my servers from the brink of collapse,” I say as I
take my seat.
Charlotte’s eyes widen in surprise. “You what? Why didn’t you tell me?
You make your job sound so humdrum.”
Aurora’s cheeks turn a light pink. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Quite the contrary,” I state as Charlotte sets down a plate full of
spaghetti. “I owe her a great debt. She may very well have saved my
company.”
“Luka did most of the work,” Aurora insists.
“He tells me otherwise.”
“He’s being modest.”
“Believe me, Luka is the furthest thing from modest.”
“I really don’t deserve this much praise.”
“Take the compliment, Foster.”
Beside me, Charlotte giggles. “You two sound like an old married couple.
Tell me, is she as sassy at work as she is at home?”
I chuckle. “It’s non-stop snark from this one.”
“I’m not that bad,” Aurora grumbles, shoveling a forkful of pasta into her
mouth.
“Don’t worry. It’s your most endearing quality.”
“Being lippy?”
“Having the courage to say what’s on your mind,” I correct. “There are
too many yes men out there. I respect people who tell it like it is. It’s the only
way to ensure progress.”
Aurora smiles at this. It’s so sweet I feel my chest tighten.
“You know…” Charlotte begins slowly. “Since you owe her a huge debt
and all for being so freaking fantastic, what are the chances of giving her a
day off tomorrow? I mean, Mr. Boss man, sir.”
I arch a brow. “You need tomorrow off?”
Aurora shakes her head. “No, she’s just being silly.”
Charlotte huffs. “It’s to celebrate your birthday, dummy. I swear to God,
you need to stop being such a workaholic.”
I glance at Aurora. “Your birthday?”
“Tomorrow. But it’s not a big deal.”
“I want to take her out again,” Charlotte explains. “I tried to take her out
to this nice lounge downtown, The Red Orchid, but someone ditched me
early.”
I almost grin. Ah, yes. I remember quite clearly why she left.
“Take tomorrow off,” I tell her. “You’ve earned it.”
She blinks up at me. “Are you serious?”
“When am I ever not?”
Charlotte squeals. “Your boss is amazing. I can’t wait!”
“Just don’t go to The Red Orchid again,” I state firmly.
 “Why not?” Charlotte asks.
“Yeah, why not?” Aurora challenges. Even now, she’s still trying to get
answers from me.
“I hear they have a rat problem,” I lie easily. “Try going to Velvet,
instead.”
“You mean that really fancy club Leonardo Di Caprio was spotted at last
week?” Charlotte says with a gasp. “I doubt they’d let us in.”
“Give my name at the door. I know the owner.”
While Charlotte appears thoroughly impressed, there’s nothing but
suspicion behind Aurora’s eyes, ever the critical thinker. I like that about her.
No pulling the wool over her eyes now that she’s caught a glimpse—
overheard, more like—of my past. The more I dwell on the matter, the more I
realize it’s going to be impossible to keep her away. Attempting to keep her
at arm’s length is as futile as trying to blot out the sun.
We finish dinner shortly thereafter. It’s not exactly a Michelin Star meal,
but it’s filling and surprisingly delightful. Aurora sees me to the door, peering
up at me with a look I can’t quite decipher.
“Are you sure I should take tomorrow off?” she asks, whispering so her
roommate doesn’t hear. “Is the coast clear?”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s why you came in, isn’t it? To make sure my place was safe. It’s
why you escorted me home, too.”
I exhale slowly. “Nothing gets by you.”
Aurora’s brows furrow slightly. “Mikhail… What have you gotten
yourself roped into?”
Whatever resolve I had built up finally crumbles, the wall I’d created
built on a foundation of sand. It’s not that I don’t trust her. Far from it, in
fact.
“I’ll tell you everything when you come to work next,” I promise her.
“Until then, enjoy your day off.”
“And Charlotte and I are safe? From whatever’s going on?”
“For now, yes. I don’t think he has any reason to have eyes on you. Yet.”
“Konstantin?”
I nod, just the once, before bending down to press a kiss to her forehead.
“Enjoy your birthday, kisa. Excellent work today.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
We both linger at the door, staring into each other’s eyes. I’m strangely
comfortable here, happy to be trapped in the pull of her presence. She’s all
things warm and bright, a beacon against the dark evening. I meant what I
said before. She is safe. If Konstantin wanted to make a move, he would have
done so by now.
With a final deep breath of her peachy scent, I turn to leave. My uncle
may have made the first move, but now it’s my turn to counterattack. I just
pray I can keep Aurora out of the crossfire.
CHAPTER 17
 AURORA

I shouldn’t feel this guilty for missing work, but I do. Maybe Charlotte’s
right. I am a workaholic.
“Happy birthday!” Charlotte all but screams when I shuffle into the
kitchen in nothing but my PJ pants and an oversized Star Wars graphic tee.
She presses a small box into my hands with a giddy smile.
I open the gift to reveal a pretty silver charm bracelet, one of those
expensive ones from Pandora. It must have cost her a good chunk of change.
“Thank you, Cee,” I say earnestly. “It’s beautiful.”
“You really like it?”
“I do, it’s really cute.”
“I got it in silver because it’ll match your outfit for tonight better. We’re
going to walk into Velvet with style.”
I laugh. “You seem more excited about the club than I do.”
“Babe, there’s always a bunch of A-listers hanging out there,” she says
with a giggle, flitting about the kitchen as she prepares herself a bowl of
oatmeal. “There’s bound to be paparazzi and stuff. If we get in with the right
crowd, we might find ourselves splashed on the front cover of People
Magazine.”
I shake my head. “And here I thought you wanted to celebrate my
birthday.”
“We can do two things at once, Aurora. Just think about it! One perfect
shot of me on the arm of George Clooney and the tabloids will all be
wondering who I am. It’s perfect for my modeling career.”
“I’m pretty sure George Clooney is married, Cee.”
She winks scandalously. “That’ll definitely get people talking, then.”
 I’ll admit I’m a bit disgruntled at how blatantly opportunistic Charlotte is
being, but it’s not like I want to celebrate my birthday in the first place. As I
told Mikhail yesterday evening, it’s not a big deal. I haven’t celebrated my
birthday since Mom died, and even before her passing, we were never really
the kind of people who went out of our way to throw massive parties.
“I’m thinking we should go around nine,” Charlotte rattles on.
“Shouldn’t we go early? You know, in case the lines are super long.”
“Are you kidding? If we go to the club early, we’ll look way too eager.
We need to time it so we’re arriving just as it’s getting full. The more people
there, the more people we get to rub elbows with.”
“You’ve got your strategy all worked out, I see.”
She grins as she sits down across from me. “If we’re lucky, maybe you’ll
find another guy to ditch me for.”
I glare at her, irritation licking at the nape of my neck. “Are you ever
going to let that go?”
“I’m clearly joking.”
“No, you’re not. I can hear it in your tone.”
“Oh my God, I was just kidding, okay? Someone woke up on the wrong
side of the bed.”
I set my jaw. “Why are you being so annoying today?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me fine, Cee. What’s gotten into you?”
“I’m just excited to go to Velvet, that’s all. What’s your problem?”
“The fact that you’re making my birthday outing all about you.”
Charlotte frowns. “What? Are you kidding me?”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want to go out? This sort of
thing just isn’t for me. Just because Mikhail said we could use his name to
get in doesn’t mean we have to.”
My roommate crosses her arms. The conversation is escalating too
quickly, but I can’t control it. She of all people should know why I hate
celebrating my birthday.
“Would you rather sit around here and mope?” she asks, her question
cutting harder and deeper than I was prepared for.
“So you do remember.”
“That your Mom died on your birthday? Of course.”
Anger boils in the pit of my stomach. “So you’re deliberately being a
bitch?”
 “I’m not trying to be a bitch. I’m trying to help you. You’d be holed up in
the apartment all day if it wasn’t for me.”
I feel like crying. What the hell has gotten into her? What’s with the
sudden animosity? I must have said something wrong, or maybe she really is
still pissed about the fact that I ditched her. Whatever the reason, it’s her
damage. I shouldn’t be made to feel guilty about wanting to mourn my
mother.
“You just want to go to Velvet to try and make your big break,” I accuse.
“If you’re that desperate, go by yourself. You don’t need to drag me along
with you.”
Charlotte gets up from the table, her cheeks red and her eyes watery with
angry tears. “Fucking fine! Happy fucking birthday.” She storms off down
the hall and slams her bedroom door shut like a petulant child.
I, too, want to run to my room and slam the door in a fit of rage. I need to
get the hell out of here before I say or do something I might genuinely regret.
With a frustrated grunt, I trudge over to the laundry machine shoved into our
small hallway closet, pull out a fresh shirt and pair of jeans, and throw them
on before heading straight out the door.
Happy fucking birthday, indeed.

I’m having the absolute worst day. First my fight with Charlotte, and now
I’m wandering around in the rain without an umbrella. I contemplate
returning home, but then I’d have to deal with my cranky roommate. I don’t
know what the hell got into her, and the more I replay our argument over in
my head, the more I start to question if I was the one out of line.
I honestly can’t tell. At the end of the day, I’m probably going to
apologize. Fights happen over stupid things all the time. Charlotte’s still my
best friend. I’m sure we can figure things out together once we’ve both had a
chance to cool our heads.
With nowhere else to go, I head to CyberFort.
There’s probably nothing lamer than going to work when I’ve been given
express permission to take the day, but there’s honestly nowhere else I’d
rather be. Apart from curled up in my own bed, of course, but that’s currently
not an option. I genuinely like what I do at CyberFort. The work is equal
parts challenging and rewarding. Nobody mentions my late arrival as I take
my seat at my workstation and slowly plug away at the assignment Luka gave
me at the start of my internship.
Mikhail doesn’t appear to be in his office. Strange, considering I’ve never
seen him away from his desk. It makes me wonder if something happened.
Now that I think about it, none of the Antonov brothers seem to be here
today. Dimitri and Pyotr are usually always around, walking back and forth
between meetings while mingling with the employees. Luka can usually be
found lurking in a dark corner somewhere like the vampire I’m convinced he
is. And yet it’s surprisingly quiet. Too quiet.
I decide to dive into my work instead, ignoring the creeping sensation of
loneliness weighing heavily in my chest. This wasn’t how I planned today to
go. If I focus on my project, I keep my mind off Mom. Sure, it’s been five
years, but I still miss her so much.
I find a rhythm in my work, sorting through lines of code. Writing,
testing, rewriting. It’s an easy cycle I can follow for hours and hours on end. I
don’t even realize it’s well past sundown until someone clears their throat. I
look up, startled to find Mikhail hovering above me with a perplexed arched
brow.
The floor is completely empty. I’m the only employee remaining.
Outside, the sun has long since set beyond the horizon, the glow of New
York’s busy nightlife filtering in through the large windows.
“Oh, hi…”
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
A watery chuckle escapes me. “I’m having a shitty day,” I admit,
surprised at how easy the truth comes out of me. I don’t see any point in lying
to Mikhail. I don’t want to lie to Mikhail. Right now, he’s the only person I
feel like I can even remotely talk to.
Something flashes behind his eyes. Concern, maybe? It’s hard to tell in
the dim lighting.
With his hands shoved casually into his pockets, he tilts his head in the
direction of his office. “With me,” is all he says before stalking off.
I follow him into his office, closing the door out of habit even though it’s
only the two of us here. In fact, I’m pretty sure we’re the only two people left
in the whole building.
Mikhail takes a seat in his office chair, leaning back with an air of ease
and confidence. He regards me carefully, dark eyes searching the details of
my face. For what, I cannot tell. After a few moments of silent
contemplation, he pats his knee—an invitation to sit. For the briefest second,
I think against it. What if someone sees?
But my strength leaves me. I’m so done with today and his lap looks nice
and warm and wouldn’t it be nice to be held, even for a little while?
He welcomes me with open arms, one hand braced gently on my hip as I
sit across his lap. The warmth of his body soothes my nerves, helping me
relax for the first time all day. Mikhail is surprisingly tender, gazing at me
with such fondness I frankly don’t know what to do other than bask in his
attention. He slowly drags the pad of his thumb across my cheek, his gaze
flitting down to focus on my lips.
“What’s bothering you?” he asks gently. “Did something happen?”
“Charlotte and I had a fight,” I confess. “It was stupid.”
“Concerning what?”
I exhale heavily. “I didn’t want to go out to celebrate. She did. It kinda
just spiraled, and I haven’t been home since.”
“Why didn’t you want to go out?”
I feel myself getting a touch annoyed at having to explain myself, but
then I remember Mikhail doesn’t know. He doesn’t know about Mom or what
happened to her or how I feel like absolute shit whenever my birthday rolls
around. He waits, patient and still, like he knows not to apply any more
pressure. I appreciate his diligence and care. It’s like he understands me
better than I understand myself.
“She died when I was eighteen, my mom,” I mumble softly, resting my
cheek against the slope of his shoulder. He absentmindedly plays with a lock
of my hair, sweeping it away to get a better look at my face.
“What was her name?” he asks, a whisper.
“Nancy.”
“And your father?”
“No clue.”
Mikhail doesn’t seem surprised, but I’m too drained to think anything of
it. He probably put everything together when he was looking at all the family
photos at the apartment. It’s not exactly a grand mystery.
“Mom raised me all by herself,” I go on. “I never knew him. Never really
knew what happened to him, either. She didn’t talk about him much. We got
into fights about it often. We had an argument the day of my eighteenth, in
fact.”
 Mikhail furrows his brows. “What happened, Aurora?”
“She went out to pick up my cake. Even after all our shouting… I just
wanted to know where he was. Since I was an adult, I thought I should have a
right to know who my father is…” My breath comes out stuttered, the
memory washing over me like a cold tidal wave. “Some asshole was driving
while texting. Didn’t see the red light.” And then, impossibly quiet, “I’ve
been alone ever since.”
I can’t decipher the look he gives me. It’s not exactly pity, but it’s
definitely not indifference. I find trace hints of admiration behind his dark
eyes, along with a healthy dose of something close to longing.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, so close I can feel his words whisper against
my cheek. The sound of his voice echoes inside my skull. Mikhail doesn’t
strike me as the kind of man to apologize for anything, yet here he is,
cradling me with the utmost care.
I move first, slowly tilting my chin up to angle my lips against his. He
makes no effort to stop me when I lean in to kiss him, our mouths slotting
into place with ease. I’m so used to Mikhail being rough with me, taking
whatever he wants, whatever I’ll let him get away with. So this kiss can only
be described as special.
It’s all things sweet and gentle and almost timid, in a way. We really are
doing everything out of order, but I can’t say I mind in the slightest. In the
short time I’ve known Mikhail, I’ve come to trust him more than anyone I’ve
ever met.
“Let me take you home,” he says against my lips.
“I don’t really feel like dealing with Charlotte right now.”
“Who said anything about your home?”
A grin tugs at the corners of my mouth.
Oh.
CHAPTER 18
 AURORA

I look around in pure amazement.

“I knew it,” I mutter under my breath.
Mikhail follows me, standing only a few paces behind. He casually tosses
his suit jacket over the back of a nearby chair, loosening his silky red tie.
“What?”
I gesture to the space, exasperated. “I should have known you were
eccentric when you bid a million on me, but Jesus. You basically live in a
castle in the sky!”
He chuckles, pointing a single finger at the ceiling. “There are two
additional floors,” he says, sounding surprisingly humble for a man who just
told me he owns the penthouse of one of the tallest buildings in all of New
York. “I’ll give you a tour after dinner.”
I arch a brow in amusement. “You know how to cook?”
“No,” he says dryly. “I live off of cold coffee and stale donuts I happen to
find in the breakroom.”
A soft laugh rises out of me. “Okay, maybe I deserved that.”
“Come.”
“I’m sure there’s a joke I can make in there,” I tease as I follow him
through the open space into a massive kitchen area.
I wasn’t exaggerating before when I said this place is basically a castle.
My tiny two-bedroom apartment could fit in this place five times over, and
that’s just the main floor!
I’m pleasantly surprised that Mikhail hasn’t fallen into the terribly bleak
minimalist style everyone and their mother seems to be going after these
days. The walls are a rich forest green, the leather living room seats a deep
chocolate brown. The earthy tones of his home make it feel equal parts
elegant and cozy, a forest scape well above the concrete jungle below. The
maroon hue of the curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows facing
south overlooking Central Park only add to the regality of the place.
I feel a little bit like a princess up here in Mikhail’s unreachable tower,
peering down at the rest of the city from on high. The only question is: is
Mikhail a monster who has me in his grasp, or my Prince Charming? I can’t
figure out which category to put him in. He can be mean when he wants to
be, but so damn thoughtful, too. Maybe I like that he’s a little bit of both, too
complicated to put in a neat little box.
“Sit,” he instructs, gesturing toward one of the fancy bar stools lined on
one side of his white marble countertop island. I do so, oddly intrigued by
every one of his movements.
This is Mikhail in his natural habitat, his home. At work, he’s a jaguar.
Powerful and strong and territorial. He’s still all those things here, only more
relaxed in his den.
There’s nothing sexier to me than a man who rolls the sleeves of his shirt
up to just below his elbows, exposing strong forearms and big, meaty hands.
Mikhail is silent as always, but it’s a comfortable kind of silence, one neither
of us feels the need to fill with pointless chatter. We can just exist and be at
ease in each other’s company.
Mikhail grabs a few ingredients from his big double-door stainless steel
fridge. He sets a plastic bag of fresh snap peas in front of me. When I give
him a confused look, he says, “Trim the ends off.”
“Gonna make me work for my meal, huh?” I chide.
“It’s only fair,” he replies with the smallest of smiles. It’s a dazzling thing
to behold, his smiles so rare I feel slightly breathless. I like the way his smile
seems to light up his whole face, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he does.
“So, what’s on the menu, chef?” I ask.
“Sticky ginger beef rice bowls,” he says without a hint of presentation
flare, almost as if he’s reading the obituary instead of announcing what he’s
planning to cook.
“Who taught you to cook?”
“I did,” Mikhail replies simply as he lets oil heat up in a pan. “When we
first came to America, I was in charge of taking care of my family, including
making sure my brothers were fed.”
I lean forward, thirstily drinking in his every word. It seems the evening
is ripe for childhood stories. “That must have been hard. How old were you?”
Mikhail shrugs a shoulder, though he keeps his eyes trained on the food
cooking over the stove. “I was eight. The twins were four. My mother was
pregnant with Luka at the time.”
My heart races. Every new fragment of story I get from him is a thrill and
a half. I want to know more and more, but I know I’m treading on thin ice as
it is. This is by far the most transparent and open Mikhail has been with me
since our first meeting, and the last thing I want is to say something wrong
and have him shut down on me completely.
“Why did you leave?” I ask, cautious.
He turns slowly, taking the trimmed snap peas from me. He tosses them
in the pan, stirring them with the end of a spoon to make sure they cook but
don’t burn. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”
Mikhail dishes up two plates, the smell of the spices and the colorful
arrangements of the vegetables on a fluffy bed of white rice like something
straight out of a cookbook. He grabs two forks from one of his many drawers
and hands one to me, casually leaning across the kitchen island as we dig into
our food.
“I’m warning you now, Aurora, if I tell you this story, there’s no going
back.” Mikhail says this gravely, the weight in his words dropping his voice a
pitch. “Once you learn about my past, it could put you in danger.”
I take a deep breath. “I want to know, Mikhail.”
With a resigned nod, he holds my gaze. “My father, Lev Antonov, was a
member of the Antonov Bratva. His brother, my uncle, is Konstantin
Antonov. Unfortunately, you’ve had the poor luck of meeting him already.”
My throat is tight, my heart pounding loudly in my own ear. “And
Konstantin…”
“He is the head of the Bratva. Incredibly powerful back in the day. Still
is. They’re involved in all sorts of criminal activity, from drug smuggling to
money laundering to murder for hire.”
I gulp, my palms suddenly cold and clammy. “Then why did you have to
leave?”
“My father… He didn’t agree with a lot of what Konstantin did. Or
rather, how he went about conducting business. I was too young to remember
much, but what I do remember was the violence. The uncertainty. I never
knew if my father would be home for dinner once he set out for the day.”
 My hands tremble, the unmistakable hint of pain in his voice shaking me
to my core.
“He tried to turn Konstantin in to the police.”
“He betrayed his brother?” I gasp. Even I know that must have been a
difficult choice to make—with potentially horrifying consequences.
Mikhail’s jaw tightens. “Konstantin was convicted and received two life
sentences. It was safe to say that he was locked up for good… but not before
he gave the kill order.”
A rake claws down my spine. I can hardly believe what I’m hearing, yet
—in the strangest way—it all makes sense, too. I don’t think Mikhail is lying
to me. Why would he?
“We had to leave Moscow,” he continues gravely. “I remember it being…
chaotic. Frightening. Somewhere along the way, our father got separated
from us. I begged my mother to let me go back for him, but… I think that
was his plan all along, to use himself as bait to give us a bit more time.”
“Where is he now?” I ask, barely louder than a whisper.
Mikhail’s face is as hard as stone. “Who knows? Probably chopped up in
bits and pieces and fed to the dogs. The Bratva aren’t exactly known for
being merciful.”
My stomach flips. Dear God, I can’t imagine him going through all that.
My eyes sting with the threat of tears at the thought of him, eight years old
and running for his life, leaving behind the only life he’s ever known.
“I’m so sorry, Misha. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”
He sets his food down and slowly circles around the kitchen island,
joining me on my side of the counter. He stops about half a foot away,
studying me intently.
“Those early years were difficult. I was the only one at the time who
could speak English, though not very well. With my father gone—most likely
dead—I became the man of the house.”
“You were just a boy,” I mumble, heart twisting in my chest. “That’s so
not fair.”
“That’s life, kisa.”
I reach out, aching to touch him. I press my palm against his chest, not to
push him away, just to give myself a reminder that he’s really here in the
flesh. Despite everything, Mikhail came out on top. He made something of
himself, created one of the most impressive companies in all of America. It’s
safe to say my admiration for him has grown tenfold.
 “So what does he want from you?” I ask softly. “Konstantin. For you to
join the Bratva?”
Mikhail lifts his own hand up to cover mine, keeping my fingers pressed
against his chest. “Yes.”
“But why? Doesn’t he realize how stupid that would be? He killed your
father—his brother.”
He works his jaw, hesitation flashing across his normally stoic
expression. “From what I can gather, his sons—my cousins—are all dead.”
Goosebumps break out across my arms and down the back of my neck.
“All of them?”
“Mobsters aren’t exactly known for their long life expectancies. Grigoriy
died of an overdose. Vlad was caught in a drive-by shooting. Maksim was
murdered in the dead of night by a rival crew.”
The more he talks, the more I think I’m going to be sick. The reality of
the situation is finally setting in. As absurd as all of this sounds, I know
Mikhail wouldn’t make something like this up. He doesn’t strike me as the
kind of guy to spout tall tales for the fun of it.
I take a deep, albeit tight, breath. “So your uncle wants you to come back
to make you his heir?”
“I suspect so. Otherwise he risks having the Antonov Bratva fall to a rival
group. But…”
“But what?”
“I think it’s more than that,” Mikhail says sternly. “If we agree to join,
what’s ours becomes his.”
I snort. “How very Communist Manifesto of him.”
“Everything my brothers and I have built… On the surface, everything
would run as it already is. My brothers and I would remain the faces of the
company, when in actuality, CyberFort would belong to Konstantin.”
I can already hear the alarm bells blaring inside my skull. “He’d have
access to all manner of people’s data,” I realize aloud. “Didn’t you sign a
security contract with the DOJ two years ago?”
Mikhail nods gravely. “The DOJ, high-profile companies… Everyone we
provide cybersecurity to, he’d have access to their information. He could use
it for blackmail, take out his enemies… Anything he wants.”
I have never felt fear like this before. If I’d known who Konstantin was at
The Red Orchid, I would have left immediately. I’ve never met a man more
scary, more insidious. And to think he was able to hide behind that charming
smile of his, a predator luring in his prey.
“The ransomware attack,” I say. “That was him, wasn’t it?”
Mikhail nods. “He’s resourceful, has twice as many contacts—and not all
of them are law-abiding. If it wasn’t for you, Konstantin would have had us
in a chokehold.”
“And all he wanted was for you to join the Bratva? What happens if you
don’t?”
His lack of an answer is answer enough.
Fear soaks into my marrow. This is crazy. This is nothing like my mom’s
old crime thrillers. This is real and so horrifying that I’m paralyzed by the
gravity of the situation. Will Konstantin kill Mikhail if he doesn’t agree to his
terms? What is Mikhail going to do if Konstantin doesn’t let up?
“Are you afraid?” Mikhail asks me, so close I can feel his breath brush
lightly against my cheeks. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. No good can
come from you knowing the truth.”
I peer up at him, wide-eyed and a little numb. “I’m not afraid, Mikhail.
Not for me.”
Mikhail closes the distance between us until our lips just graze. “You
have nothing to worry about, Aurora. Not as long as I’m here.”
I’m immediately drunk from our proximity. I don’t know how he does it,
but Mikhail never fails to make my heart race. “Misha, I want…”
“Yes? Tell me what you want.”
My chest tightens. Every inch of my skin burns. I need him like I need
air, but I don’t think I can find the words to tell him. It’s okay, though,
because Mikhail seems to know exactly what I need.
In one fell swoop, he kisses me deeply and wraps me in his arms. I moan
against him as he picks me up with ease before starting down the hall.
CHAPTER 19
 AURORA

H e deposits me onto his bed with surprising care, like I’m made of
fragile crystals that might break beneath his touch. His bed is glorious.
A massive field of silky sheets, the mattress so soft it’s like sinking into a
cloud. I have a feeling I’m going to sleep very well tonight—once he’s done
with me, of course.
Mikhail undresses me slowly, kissing every available inch of skin he
exposes. First goes my shirt, then my jeans, until I’m lying on his bed in just
my bra and panties. The bedding is cool against my skin, as though I’m
floating on a refreshing spring of water. Mikhail’s body, in contrast, is a
warm sunset. The heat of his skin and the hunger of his gaze makes my core
overheat, wet excitement pooling between my legs.
His fingers comb through my hair as he helps me out of my bra, the
delicate fabric tossed over his shoulder like a common inconvenience.
Mikhail nips at my skin, sucking hard kisses against the crook of my neck,
against my shoulders, working his way down to my breasts. I moan when he
mouths at one of my nipples, pinching the other gently between his fingers.
The roughness of his hands does me in. I want to be covered by him,
leave no part of my body unexplored. This sensation festering in my chest…
It’s starting to feel an awful lot like obsession. It transcends need, transcends
want. The more time I spend with him, the more I get to know him and he
knows me, only serves to solidify this… bond we share. It’s more than a
casual liking, but it’s not quite love, either. It’s more than that.
It’s trust. So new, but so unshakeable. He sees me in ways others don’t,
just as I see him.
“Tell me what you want, birthday girl,” he murmurs against my belly.
Mikhail’s hand wanders down to drag my panties off. They, too, are tossed
somewhere over his shoulder and immediately forgotten to the floor.
“Anything you want.”
I lick my lips. I want all sorts of things. Him deep inside me, his cock in
my mouth, him pounding me from behind, while on top, and beneath me.
Mikhail, a man who normally does whatever the hell he wants, waits. Patient.
I realize he’s holding out for my answer.
“I want to undress you,” I say.
The smile he gives me sends sparks arcing up my spine. “Come here,
then,” he replies.
I get up on my knees and shuffle to the edge of the bed where he stands,
hands just to his side. He’s not going to lift a finger. I don’t mind. There’s
great pleasure to be found in undressing him with my own two hands.
I start with his tie, pulling it loose before moving on to his buttons. I work
slowly on purpose, exhilarated by his growing impatience. I can sense it in
the way he tries to help. Every time he tries to make a move, I give him a
kiss. On the corner of his mouth, on his cheek, on the tip of his nose.
“Hurry up,” he grumbles, sounding downright ravenous.
I giggle. “You said anything I want.”
“So you mean to torture me?”
“Drama queen,” I tease. I finally do away with his shirt, exposing his hard
chest and chiseled abs. I can’t help but laugh a little.
“What’s so funny?”
“You sit behind a desk all day. How do you look this good?”
“A strict workout regimen first thing in the morning,” he explains. “I
have my own gym.”
“You do?”
“Oh, yes. Along with a home theater, library, and swimming pool up on
the roof.”
“I’m definitely taking you up on that tour you offered.”
Mikhail smirks. “Whatever you’d like.”
I nibble on my bottom lip as I slide my hands down his body, moving
toward the eager tent in his pants. I undo his belt and pull down his zipper,
helping him shift out of the remainder of his clothes. My mouth waters when
his cock springs free, standing at full attention. The head of his cock is
leaking at the tip, practically begging for release. I give him a mischievous
glance before settling on my belly, my lips a hair away from his needy
member.
He groans, low and deep, when I reach out to gently stroke his shaft. I
kiss the head of his cock gingerly, my tongue flicking out to tease his slit.
Mikhail’s head falls back as he sighs. “Fuck.”
I tease him a while longer, drunk off the power he’s given me. I’m so
used to seeing Mikhail in control, which only makes me want to unravel him
further. Can I turn the tables? I wonder how far I can push him until he’s
finally the one begging me. His fingers fly to my hair when I wrap my lips
around his cock, swirling my tongue to take in his taste.
“Holy shit,” he grunts. “Your mouth feels like Heaven.”
I hum contently, ignoring the wet heat between my legs. My clit throbs
from lack of attention, but I don’t care. I have Mikhail in the palm of my
hand, and I’m going to enjoy every last second of it. Hollowing my cheeks, I
suck him down as far as I can.
He’s hot and heavy against my tongue, stretching my mouth so wide my
jaw begins to ache. The discomfort is mild, however, and there’s nothing
more exciting than when Mikhail starts to thrust his hips. He fucks my
mouth, his grip in my hair tight, all the while muttering the filthiest of things.
“That’s my girl,” he moans. “So fucking beautiful. I’m going to come
down your throat.”
My insides are all warm and fuzzy, a delightful haze shrouding my mind.
I lose myself in the taste of his skin. A part of me wants him to do it. I want
him to come in my mouth and all over my tongue. It’s such a filthy, erotic
thing and I crave it like air.
Imagine my disappointment when he pulls out. A whine escapes me,
which makes Mikhail chuckle.
“Your turn,” he says, gently grasping my shoulders to help me up.
He attacks my lips with his own, greedy and demanding. I can’t catch my
breath. Dizziness takes over, but I willingly give in to the surge of pleasure
that follows. He’s taking charge now, wrapping me in his arms and moving
me wherever he sees fit. Mikhail has me pinned on my back, swallowed up
by his soft blankets and pillows. He kisses me feverishly, touches me like it’s
the last thing he’ll ever do.
And then he pushes my legs apart and settles between my thighs, licking
a line up my folds before turning all his attention to my swollen clit. I gasp
sharply at the sensation, the tip of his tongue drawing expert circles against
me. He’s relentless. I can barely keep up with his pace. Mikhail is a man on a
mission, sucking and licking me with such efficiency I feel myself hurtling
over the edge.
Orgasm finds me, sudden and overpowering. It whites my brain and
leaves stars across my vision. My lungs burn like I’ve just run a marathon,
sweat dripping from my brow. My pussy clenches around nothing, knees still
trembling as I grip the sheets for some semblance of an anchor.
Mikhail licks his lips, smiling to himself. He looks pleased with his work.
“Good girl,” he praises.
“S-sir, I—”
He doesn’t give me any time to rest. He returns to his spot between my
legs, licking my clit with abandon. This time, however, I feel the additional
stretch of his thick fingers pressing into me. I cry out, though my words are
incoherent. Mikhail crooks his fingers in a beckoning motion, sweeping over
my sweet spot again and again, all the while teasing my sensitive clit.
“S-slow down!” I plead, on the brink of insanity.
Mikhail does no such thing. Instead, he picks up his pace. My second
climax hits me even harder, like I’ve run straight through a brick wall and
fallen into nirvana. A string of curses falls from my lips. The tips of my
fingers and toes tingle with delight. I’m lightheaded, can’t make up from
down.
And he just. Keeps. Going.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he growls against me. His voice is the most
erotic thing to ever reach my ears. “Going to make a mess of you.”
“Misha, please slow down. I can’t—”
“You can.”
“W-wait—”
I’m floating. Flying. Hurtling through space. Mikhail doesn’t bother
teasing me, doesn’t need to drag things out. It’s clear by now he’d rather see
me out of my mind with pleasure. He makes me come a third time, then
again, using his tongue and fingers alone. Not once does he give me a break,
the chance to collect myself. By the end of it, I’m nothing but putty in his
hands.
I reach for him, seeking him out like a light in the darkness. He comes to
me, kissing me so gently it almost breaks my heart.
“I’ve got you, kisa,” he murmurs against my ear. “Be a good girl for me
and relax. That’s it, just like that.”
He lays my head down on a nearby pillow, moving to place his body
between my thighs. Mikhail is careful not to completely put his weight on
me, though what little he does is a comfort to me. It grounds me, keeps my
mind from floating away endlessly into space.
“How do you want me?” he asks. “Fast or slow?”
I swallow hard. “S-slow. Please. Be gentle with me.”
“As you wish.”
He makes good on his promise, sliding into me without the same urgency
as before. He rolls his hips, buries his cock deep inside me. An incredible
sense of oneness overcomes me, connected together like this. Mikhail’s
kisses are sweet, his words encouraging, every single one of his caresses the
most intimate thing I’ve ever experienced.
“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers against my cheek. “Do you feel good,
baby? You make me feel incredible.”
“Tell me again,” I rasp. “Tell me I’m beautiful.”
“Aurora, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.”
I moan, a familiar tension building in my core. If Mikhail is a hurricane, I
really only have two options. I can try and fight the storm, or I can let it take
me.
He holds onto me when I come again. This time, he falls over the edge
with me into sweet, blinding bliss. It’s an easy enough task to curl against
him, soothed by his rich scent and hot skin. I adore the way he plays with my
hair, combing a few sections with his fingers while twirling a couple of loose
strands.
Exhaustion quickly washes over me, my eyelids too heavy to keep open.
Mikhail presses a soothing kiss to my forehead. As sleep slowly drags me
under, I hear him murmur softly, “Happy birthday.”
CHAPTER 20
 MIKHAIL

Y ou’re really starting to test my patience.

I block the number and delete the message. My uncle’s stunt with the
ransomware might have caught us off guard, but it’s going to take more than
a virus to convince me to sell my soul to him. The next time he tries to make
a move, my brothers and I will be prepared. Konstantin is a fool if he thinks
he’s the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve.
It’s well after ten in the morning when Aurora comes downstairs dressed
in one of my button-down shirts. It’s much too big for her, ending just above
her knees with the long sleeves rolled up over her elbows. It looks good. In
fact, the longer I stare, the more I feel strangely territorial over her.
“G’mornin’,” she mumbles around a wide yawn. “Why didn’t you get me
up sooner?”
“Figured you could use the sleep after the workout I gave you last night.”
Her cheeks flush an adorable shade of pink. “Oh, shut up,” she says with
a sheepish smile. “So, what does Mr. Antonov get up to on Saturdays?”
“I go to the office.”
Aurora frowns as she takes a seat at the kitchen island. “But it’s the
weekend.”
“You say that like it means something.”
“Yeah, it’s the weekend. Don’t you ever take a break?”
“CyberFort’s operations run 24/7, and therefore, so do I.”
She laughs softly. “You need a hobby or something.”
 I shrug. “I could make you my hobby.”
Her face turns even redder. I’ve never wanted to kiss her more.
Aurora chews on the inside of her cheek. “I wouldn’t be entirely opposed,
but…”
“But what?”
“We should probably talk. You know, about what this is?”
“Ah,” I say. “The talk.”
“Don’t act so surprised. It was bound to happen. I just want us both to be
mindful while we’re at work. If word gets out…”
“I understand, Aurora.”
“Do you?”
“I do.” I pour a mug full of coffee and slide it over the counter towards
her. “As far as I’m concerned, this is something you want, correct?”
She nibbles her bottom lip. It makes me fucking feral when she does that.
“Yeah, I want this. Do you want this?”
“Take a wild guess, kisa.”
Aurora rolls her eyes. “Be serious.”
“Yes, it’s what I want.”
“Great,” she says lightly. “Glad that’s out of the way.”
“That being said,” I state firmly, “we’ll have to be discrete.”
“You mean no more fucking on the twentieth floor? I’m pretty sure that
was your idea, not mine.”
“That, amongst other things. And I want you to understand this will in no
way affect your internship or your job prospects.”
She chuckles. “Okay, I can get behind that.”
“Excellent. Meeting adjourned.”
“Oh my God, you’re such a nerd.”
“Don’t let me catch you calling me that at work, understand? I’m not
going to let it slide.”
“Yes, sir.” Aurora gives me a mock salute, though it doesn’t take very
long before her expression slips into something graver.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Just… thinking about Konstantin. Do you think it’s even safe to go to
work? I mean, he’s targeted the company once before. What’s to stop him
from doing it again?”
“Nothing,” I confess. “But I refuse to live in fear, Aurora. If I cower and
hide away at home, it means he’s won. Our days have to go on as usual.”
 Sensing her unease, I step toward her. It pleases me when I get to sweep a
lock of her hair away from her face, the docile nature of such a simple gesture
a balm over my doubts.
“His beef is with me, Aurora,” I say softly. “You’re safe.”
“It’s not my safety I’m concerned about.”
I place a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up, pressing a kiss to
her lips. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine. I always am. Now, let me
feed you breakfast, and then I’ll drop you off at home on my way to the
office.”
“Sex, food, and a private ride?” she teases. “You really are a catch.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You’re getting in later than usual,” Dimitri points out the second I stroll into
the office. “I was about to send out a search party for you.”
“I sent you four text messages,” Pyotr grumbles bitterly, following on his
twin’s heels.
“I was preoccupied,” I state simply.
“With what?” Dimitri needles me.
“None of your concern.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re here now,” Pyotr continues. “Mother’s
here.”
I glare at the two of them. “She is?”
“Luka’s with her in your office,” Dimitri confirms.
“You should have led with that.”
“I tried,” Pyotr says with a huff. “Via text.”
I sigh, continuing to my office. Through the clear glass window, I see our
guest of honor seated in my office chair.
Catherina Antonov is a force to be reckoned with. I love the woman
dearly. She has all my admiration and more, plus a healthy dose of respectful
fear. She’s small compared to her sons, standing at only four foot nine. Her
ghost white hair is pulled back into a neat bun, every ounce the elegant
Bratva princess—banished or otherwise.
She dons a severe black dress with a high neck and long sleeves, the hem
of her skirt cutting off just above the ankles. If it weren’t for the large
diamond stud earrings she wears, it’d be easy to mistake her for a stern, ruler-
cracking Mother Superior.
“About time you showed up,” Catherina snaps coldly. Her English has
improved much over the years, but her words are still thick and heavy with a
Russian accent, which adds to her intimidating air. “When you called me, you
made it seem like an emergency. Yet here you are, starting your day at noon.”
“I was taking care of business, Mother,” I reply, unfazed.
She rises from my seat and walks over to give me a hug. It’s stiff and
uncomfortable—and just like the ones she gave me as a child. “You’re
getting too thin,” she says, giving me a critical once over. “Are you eating
enough?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not lying, Mother.”
Behind me, Dimitri snorts, too amused for his own good. Pyotr crosses
his arms.
“Can we get to the heart of the matter?” he asks gruffly.
Catherina nods. “Yes. Tell me more. I hear Konstantin has been causing
all manner of troubles.”
“A few hiccups here and there,” Luka explains. “But nothing we couldn’t
handle.”
“Have you seen him in person?”
“Just once,” I say. “He asked to meet with me.”
“In a public place, yes?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have gone, otherwise.”
Catherina nods sagely. I can practically hear the gears turning in her head.
Once upon a time, she was a brilliant strategist. The Antonov Bratva
flourished under her guidance. While Konstantin gave the orders and my
father who carried out his word, my mother acted as the organization’s voice
of reason.
Until we had to run for our lives, of course.
“I know you’re enjoying retirement,” I say to her, “but we really need
your help. I’ve tasked Luka with finding Konstantin’s location, but so far he
hasn’t been able to find anything.”
Luka grits his teeth. “Someone’s helping him. Someone powerful,
someone with resources. It’s the only way to explain why he’s so elusive.”
I can feel my youngest brother’s frustration. In this day and age, nobody’s
untraceable. Modern technology sees to that. Everyone lives on the internet,
can be found on a passing traffic cam, can be tracked through the use of
credit cards. Our digital footprints are everywhere if you know where to look,
but Konstantin…
He’s a ghost, haunting my family for weeks without recourse.
Hopefully with Catherina’s help, that’ll all change.
“We need you to get in contact with your old friends,” I say. “We need
information, Mother.”
She arches a stern brown. “So you want me to get my hands dirty?”
Dimitri smiles apologetically. It’s no secret he’s a mama’s boy through
and through. “We have the company to think about, Mother. Our faces are
too public. We can’t afford to get caught.”
“You do understand what you’re asking of me, do you not?” Catherina
asks. “Most of my underground contacts believe me dead. The landscape has
shifted, my sons. New alliances have formed, and old ones have dissolved.
There’s no telling how many targets will be on your backs once I reach out.”
“We have no other choice,” Pyotr finally pipes up.
Catherina puts her hands on her hips. “And if we find him? What then?”
She looks at me directly. “What lengths are you willing to go to make sure
Konstantin never bothers us again?”
I set my jaw. She doesn’t say it aloud, but I know what she’s implying.
She wants a permanent end to our Konstantin problem. He may have been in
prison for the last three decades, but none of us have ever truly known peace.
I could figure out a way to implicate him in a crime, have him locked up
again, but my uncle has an unfathomable amount of power. I wouldn’t be
surprised if he managed to find a way out from behind bars.
Konstantin is a malignant tumor, one that’s spread far and wide. It
doesn’t matter how many times we go under the knife to try and cut him from
our lives. He always comes back. Meaner and uglier and more vicious than
before. There’s only one way I can put an end to our misery.
We have to kill him.
“I will handle it,” I say loud and clear.
Catherina stares me down. I stare back. She presses her lips into a thin
line and nods, just so. “Very well. I call in a few favors. Hopefully I will be
able to find him within the week/”
My phone rings. My mother clicks her tongue, annoyed. Thankfully,
Dimitri is quick to smooth things over.
 “The life of a CEO,” he jokes lightly. “Always putting out fires.”
I answer my phone, bringing it up to my ear. “Hello?”
“Mikhail!” Aurora sobs frantically. She shrieks so loud the whole room
can hear her over the receiver. “Mikhail, something terrible’s happened!”
Concern lances through me, my blood turning to ice.
“What’s happened?” I ask hurriedly.
“It’s Charlotte! I think… I think she’s been taken!”
CHAPTER 21
 AURORA

M ikhail normally drops me off right at my apartment door, but today I

insisted he leave me at the curb. It made sense since he had to go to
CyberFort, anyway. Now I’m regretting not asking him to come with me.
The apartment is a mess. Signs of a struggle are everywhere. The kitchen
table is flipped. Lamps are broken. Books thrown with pages ripped. There’s
a hole in the drywall—from a kick or a punch, I cannot tell—and muddy boot
prints all over the carpet.
I see traces of blood, too. It’s not excessive, but it would suggest there
was some sort of fight. There are droplets on the kitchen tile, splattered
against the wall as if someone had been struck, a small handprint streaking
across the counter.
“Charlotte?”
My heart races. Maybe shouting is a stupid idea. What if the intruder is
still here? Nothing appears to be stolen, all our valuables—TV, Charlotte’s
jewelry, my desktop computer—all remain exactly where we left them. The
only thing missing is my roommate.
I haven’t gotten a message from Charlotte since our fight yesterday. I
figured she was mad at me, giving me the cold shoulder. Now my mind
won’t stop spinning. What if… What if someone took her?
The first and only thing I can think to do is call Mikhail. Not the police
—Mikhail. I know it’s stupid, but something tells me the cops can’t help.
This has something to do with Mikhail’s family, I can feel it. The air smells
heavily of cigar smoke, of musky cologne. My instincts tell me the only
person who can help me is the man at the center of this mess.
He arrives with his brothers and an older woman not fifteen minutes later.
I’m about to ask him how the hell he got here so fast, but I’m too much of a
nervous wreck to get the words out. Mikhail rushes over to me, grasping me
by the shoulders, checking me over from head to toe.
“Are you alright?” he asks. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I insist, clinging to his jacket. “But Charlotte… I’ve tried
calling her phone, but it goes straight to voicemail. Mikhail, I think—”
“Who is this?” the woman says, watching me with an intense curiosity.
Mikhail clears his throat. “This is Aurora Foster. One of my interns.
Aurora, this is my mother, Catherina.”
I’m two seconds away from passing out on the spot. Good grief, could
this get any more complicated?
“Your intern has you on speed dial, does she?” Catherina muses.
Dimitri, Pyotr, and Luka all give me a pointed look. I feel my cheeks
flush with heat. The Antonov brothers aren’t stupid. They definitely know
something’s going on between Mikhail and me. So much for discretion.
“That’s not important,” Mikhail snaps. “We need to move Aurora to a
safe location.”
“What about Charlotte?” I ask, dread clawing at the insides of my lungs.
“Someone took her. What if Konstantin—”
“She knows about Konstantin?” Pyotr asks with a glare. “What the hell
happened to keeping family matters within the family?”
“Can we deal with one angry Russian at a time, please,” Dimitri says,
exasperated.
“We need to get you out of here first,” Mikhail tells me. “We’ll worry
about Charlotte after. Right now, there’s nothing else we can do. Konstantin
couldn’t have done this himself. He likely has men helping him. If so, there’s
a good chance they’ll be back once they realize they’ve got the wrong girl.”
I gulp. Guilt churns in my stomach. The wrong girl? Does Konstantin
know about Mikhail and me? It’s true Mikhail led me away at The Red
Orchid, but there’s no way Konstantin could have known we were seeing
each other. That’s not even the first concern I have. How the fuck did
Konstantin figure out where I live? What would have happened if I’d come
home last night? It could have been my blood splattered everywhere.
“Bring her to my home,” Catherina says. Her tone leaves little room to
argue. “It is a relatively secluded location. She will be safest there.”
Mikhail nods. “Right. We’ll figure out what to do once we’re there.”
“I’ll stay behind and see if I can pick anything up on the local traffic
cameras,” Luka says before turning to me. “Are there security cameras in the
lobby?”
“Y-yes,” I stutter, too hopped up on adrenaline to keep my voice level.
“There’s one facing the main entrance of the building.”
“Then we might be able to catch a glimpse of whoever took your
roommate.”
Mikhail pats me gently on the small of my back. “Go pack a bag, Aurora.
Just the necessities. We leave in ten minutes.”
I don’t have the strength to argue.

The drive to Montauk, New York, takes us roughly two and a half hours.
Dimitri, Pyotr, and Luka stay behind to ‘take care’ of the apartment. I’m not
too sure what they meant, but if my mother’s old crime novels are correct,
they’re probably getting rid of any incriminating evidence that could lead
nosy neighbors to ask the wrong types of questions. The fewer people
involved in this matter, the better.
Catherina goes ahead in her own car. She drives like a bat out of hell,
weaving in and out of traffic at breakneck speeds. I suddenly understand
where Mikhail must have picked up his bad driving habits.
My things are shoved into a big duffle bag I happened to find in the back
of my closet, sitting on the car floor in the back of Mikhail’s Porsche like a
heavy black pit. He has the AC cranked up for me. The radio is off. We
haven’t said a word to each other, the uncertainty lingering in the air too
difficult to navigate through. It’s just as well. I’ve never been this far east,
and the view of the ocean is very beautiful. It’s just a shame I can’t enjoy it.
My nerves are in such shambles it’s honestly a miracle I haven’t thrown up
all over his dashboard.
We drive up to a secluded property near the most northern tip of the
island. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Large stretches of land roll and
dip, tall grass swaying with the seaside breeze. The house itself is massive,
practically a villa. It has burnt red tile roofing, sunbaked beige siding, and the
carved columns holding up the entrance. The windows are massive, too,
complimenting the lovely French double doors out front. But as beautiful as it
is…
 “Why can’t I stay with you?” I ask Mikhail softly.
We park out front. He kills the engine.
“In all likelihood, Konstantin has eyes on my place,” he says. “You
wouldn’t be safe there.”
“But you would?”
“He doesn’t want to hurt me. Just scare me.”
“Yet,” I reply pointedly. “He doesn’t want to hurt you yet.”
“I know this is less than ideal, but it’s the best we can come up with on
such short notice. My mother will take care of you.”
“What about the internship? Won’t people wonder what happened to me?
The Tech Bros are going to come up with all sorts of assumptions.”
“The Tech Bros?”
“Oh, that’s what I call the other interns. They’ve got, like, their own little
club going on.”
“I’ll come up with a perfectly viable excuse,” Mikhail promises. “Once
this matter is cleared up, I’m more than happy to have you back at
CyberFort.”
I squirm in my seat, glancing out at Catherina’s villa. “I don’t like this,
Misha. Will I even get to see you?”
“I’ll come and visit as often as I can.”
“Really?”
Mikhail nods. The warmth in his eyes tells me he isn’t lying. “Really,
kisa. And when it’s all over, I’ll bring you home personally.”
“There has to be a way I can help,” I say. “Please, I can be of use to you.
Luka said he was going to look through traffic cams, right? I can do that, too.
Just give me access to a strong enough CPU.”
“Aurora—”
“What if your mother doesn’t like me?” I ask, my guts tying themselves
up into impossible knots. “Please, don’t leave me here, Mikhail.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I turn with a yelp to find Catherina standing just outside the car, her hand
hovering over the glass. She taps her wrist, gesturing to an invisible watch.
Her impatience is obvious.
“Come on,” Mikhail says gently before slipping out of the driver’s seat.
I have no choice but to follow.
Catherina’s home is an unwelcoming labyrinth, nothing but dark winding
halls and sparsely decorated rooms. If it weren’t for Mikhail holding my
hand, I’d probably get lost within a couple of minutes, doomed to starve in
some hidden corner where nobody will be able to find me.
“You can have the east wing,” Catherina says. “Try not to make a mess. I
do have a maid, but she only comes once a week. You’ll have to cook for
yourself, too. We’re too far from the city for delivery. I expect you to keep
relatively quiet. I’m a light sleeper and can be easily roused if you’re
shuffling about late at night.”
I glance at Mikhail, wondering if he can sense my anxiety. Has his
mother always been this intense? Or is this just how she is with me?
Catherina shoos us both away with the flick of her hand. “Misha, take her
to her room. I’m going to lie down for a nap. Driving takes it out of me.”
Mikhail nods. “And then you’ll make those calls?”
The woman sighs. “Yes, yes. Leave the matter with me.”
My room is a spacious one, albeit stuffed full of all manner of cardboard
boxes. It’s a guest bedroom turned storage room, I realize. I don’t know why
I’m so disappointed. A part of me is grateful Catherina is allowing me to stay
here, but she’s not exactly enthused.
“I’m a call away,” Mikhail tells me as he sets my duffle bag down on the
bed.
“What’s going to happen to Charlotte?” I ask, voice quivering. Dread
makes my throat close. “Do you think Konstantin will kill her?”
Mikhail presses his lips into a thin line. “I don’t know.”
Somehow, that’s a worse answer than him telling me yes. My stomach
churns, the bitter taste of bile coating my tongue. If this is a nightmare, I want
to wake up. I’m too dizzy, too heartbroken, too stunned to think straight. The
gravity of the situation is finally hitting me, a delayed reaction due to shock.
Someone was in my home looking for me. And they took Charlotte instead. I
can’t even begin to imagine how frightened she must be.
As if reading my thoughts, Mikhail wraps me in a tight hug, pressing a
kiss to my forehead. “I’m going to take care of this, Aurora,” he says firmly.
“You have my word. I will deal with my uncle, and I will see to it that your
friend is safely returned.”
I hug him back, clinging to him like a lifeline. I hate the tiny whimper
that escapes me when I feel him slowly slip away.
“This will all be over soon,” he promises. Mikhail kisses me chastely
before turning to walk away.
CHAPTER 22
 AURORA

A week passes. Still no updates.

I’m going fucking crazy cooped up in this place. I rarely leave my
room, afraid of disturbing Catherina. I may be her guest, but nothing about
her behavior indicates that I’m a welcome one. I am walking on eggshells, so
nervous that every unexpected sound from upstairs makes me want to jump
straight out of my own skin.
I once compared Mikhail to a hurricane. If that’s the case, then Catherina
is an apocalyptic freak of nature.
The woman terrifies me, but I’m also strangely intrigued by her. She may
be small, but her forceful presence is unmistakable. My mother used to say
that dynamite comes in small packages, and when I catch a glimpse of
Catherina in the halls, I realize how right she was.
I try to give her a wide berth. She’s usually upstairs, chatting on her
phone in Russian. For a person who deliberately chooses to live in a secluded
corner of the country, she sure seems to have a lot of friends. Granted, her
tone is always sharp and clipped, so I can’t tell if she’s having a pleasant
conversation or if she’s reaming someone out.
By the eighth day, this picturesque safehouse starts to feel like what it
really is—a prison.
I’ve explored every inch of my room, filing through Catherina’s boxes
out of sheer boredom. I know it’s rude to go through another person’s things,
but at this point, I’m not going to apologize. If she didn’t want me to go
through her stuff, she shouldn’t have shoved me in her musty storage room.
There’s nothing particularly fascinating about any of the boxes. Most of
them house old books—all Russian, so I can’t even read them—and stuffy
old fur coats. The rare pictures I find every now and then are my most prized
finds. They’re images of a life long gone by, the pictures quality grainy and
feathered around the edges. They give me a glimpse of what life was like in
Russia, a peek into the world Mikhail spent his first eight years in.
I only find five childhood pictures of him, but I can easily pick out my
favorite. It’s wintertime in Russia. Mikhail is probably no older than six,
bundled up in all manner of scarves and a fluffy coat and mittens. There’s
snow in his hair, and it looks as if his lashes are frozen with bits of ice, the tip
of his nose beet red from he cold. But his smile…
He smiles so wide and joyfully I smile, too. There’s so much life in his
face, a spark behind his eyes. It makes me wonder how much he knew back
then about what his father and mother did for a living, about the Bratva…
Did he know the kind of cruelty his uncle was capable of? Did he have
dreams of one day joining the Bratva like his father before him, or was he a
normal boy who aspired to be an astronaut, cowboy, superhero, et cetera?
My phone buzzes. I practically hurl myself across the room to check the
message.

How are you holding up?

I huff in frustration. How am I holding up? Seriously, Mikhail? My thumbs

fly over my screen, a snappy response already at the ready.

I’m going to yank my hair out at this rate.

Is my mother not being a gracious host?

Sometimes I don’t think she remembers I’m even here. Please tell me you
have an update. I’m dying over here.

Nothing yet. Will keep you posted.

I grind my teeth so hard my molars squeak. He’s been ‘keeping me posted’
for days now. My patience is already paper thin. I’m worried sick about
Charlotte. Most mornings, I’m so wrought with anxiety I end up losing the
contents of my stomach before I’ve even had the chance to eat breakfast. I’m
sick of not being able to do anything. All this inaction is going to be the death
of me.

Will you at least visit?

Do you miss me that much?

Three sharp knocks sound at my door. I’m not sure if it’s a blessing or a
curse.
“Aurora, I must speak with you,” Catherina says flatly. She sounds like
she’d much rather be anywhere but outside my door.
With a heavy sigh, I get up from the edge of my bed, tossing my phone
onto one of the pillows. The second I open the door, I’m immediately greeted
by the strong scent of her floral perfume. I can detect a hint of roses, but it’s
layered with something so spicy it burns the inside of my nose. I try my best
not to make a face, though Catherina won’t care much, either way.
“Walk with me,” she says. Something tells me it’s not so much a request
as it is an order.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To the gardens. I won’t have you rotting away in here. Misha will never
let me hear the end of it.”
I sense she might have an ulterior motive behind the invitation, but I am
in desperate need of fresh air and the opportunity to stretch my legs.
Catherina walks surprisingly fast for such a short woman. She stomps
when she walks, almost marching the two of us out into the backyard. I’ve
passed by it a number of times since I’ve been here when I need to get to the
kitchen for a bite to eat, but I’ve never dared leave the safety of the villa’s
walls. Call me paranoid, but if Konstantin has been watching me, I’d rather
stay indoors where he can’t find me behind the treated privacy glass.
The garden is full of colorful blooms, the tulips in particular smelling
wonderfully sweet. I want to explore more of the area, but Catherina hooks
her arm around mine, keeping me close. We pace around the gardens slowly.
The breeze is light and the sun is warm. What a shame Mikhail’s mother was
born completely of ice.
“How long have you and Mikhail been an item?” she asks me. She has a
very direct way of speaking.
For a moment, I consider lying. It’s none of her business. But then again,
I have a sneaking suspicion she’d be more than happy to yank the truth out of
me with a pair of pliers.
“Not long,” I admit.
She gives me the side-eye. “He’s quite handsome, is he not?”
I gulp. “Yes, very handsome.”
“And wealthy.”
Stopping mid-stride, I turn to face her. “Are you implying something?”
“No need to be sensitive,” Catherina quips, patting me roughly on the
back of the hand. “You don’t smell like a gold digger, I just wanted to be
sure.”
“I’m not after Mikhail’s money.”
“Then how about his love?”
My heart skips a beat. “Love?”
“Yes, dear girl. Do you love him?”
“I don’t know.” I mumble under my breath. I’ve never stopped to think
about it. I admire him and respect him. He challenges me in ways I didn’t
know I wanted to be challenged. And of course he’s magnificent in bed. But
do I love him? It’s much too soon to be thinking like that.
“Then why are you with him? Why is Konstantin trying to hurt him
through you?”
I don’t have an answer for her, though her questions are perfectly valid.
“What we have…” I start quietly. “It’s very new. I can’t speak on his behalf,
but… I do care for him. And I think he cares for me, too. Maybe that’s
enough of a reason for Konstantin.”
Catherina gives me a curt ‘hm’ before we continue our walk through the
gardens. She’s silent for a very long time. It disturbs me that I can’t tell what
she’s thinking. And I thought Mikhail was impossible to read.
 “What will you do?” she asks out of the blue. “If Mikhail decides to join
the family business.”
“He won’t.”
“You sound awfully sure.”
I furrow my brow. This is the last thing I expected to hear coming out of
her mouth. “He’s a good man, Catherina. He’d never do something so
despicable as to stoop to Konstantin’s level.”
“I was a part of the Bratva, you know,” she says, holding her head up like
it’s a point of pride. “You must understand, our ways are different. It is in our
blood to rule.”
“You make it sound like you want him to join Konstantin.”
“That’s just it, dear girl. He is a part of it. My boys were born into this
life, just as members of the royal family are born into the role. It will never
change who they truly are.”
“I thought you left Moscow to escape this nonsense.”
“A temporary play to save our lives. Sometimes it is better to retreat than
meet a certain end.”
Her tone makes my skin crawl. This woman… She has conniving bitch
written all over her face. I don’t care if she’s Mikhail’s mother, and I’m well
past wanting to make a good impression. Something about her is off, and I’d
be a fool to ignore the cold dread pooling in the pit of my stomach.
I’m not trying to be dramatic, but everything about Catherina makes me
uneasy. She walks like she’s royalty, talks like she’s royalty. In fact, the
longer I listen to her, the more she reminds me of a banished queen
conspiring to start a revolution to reclaim her throne.
“Mikhail doesn’t want to be a part of the Bratva,” I tell her, squirming out
of her hold.
She arches a perfectly plucked brow. “He told you this?”
I nod slowly. “He did.”
“Well, it’s a good thing mother knows best.”
“What are you talking about? Is there a reason you brought me out here in
the first place?”
“We’re waiting for a very special guest,” Catherina says calmly. “Trust
me. You’ll want to be here when she arrives.”
Behind me, the sound of shuffling footsteps reaches my ears. I turn, a
gasp of shock and horror ripping itself from my lungs. I see her red hair first,
then the tears streaking down her blotchy cheeks.
 “Charlotte!” I exclaim, running to her. I don’t give a damn that she’s
surrounded by a team of ten bulky, hard-looking men. I grasp her by the
shoulders, check her over, alarmed and disheartened by what I see. Purple
welts around her wrists look painful. Her bottom lip is split and swollen.
Charlotte trembles and sobs as she hugs me.
“Aurora. Aurora, what the fuck is going on? Who are these people?”
“Breathe,” I tell her in a rush. “Just breathe, Cee. Are you alright? I swear
to God, I’ll kill them.”
“Do I look alright?” she shrieks.
“Isn’t this sweet?” a man’s voice interjects.
I don’t even have to look up to know who it is. I recognize his voice from
that night at The Red Orchid. The unmistakable timbre, the thick accent…
Konstantin steps forward casually, wearing a suave grin as though he
hadn’t just kept my best friend hostage for the better part of a week. His air of
nonchalance pisses me off. This is a game to him; Charlotte and I are merely
pieces to move or dispose of at will.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I seethe. I’m not entirely
sure if I’m talking to Konstantin, Catherina, or both. I have so many
questions and—judging by the way Konstantin’s men begin to circle me—I
don’t have enough time to learn the answers.
“What do you say to taking a little trip with me?” he asks, sounding far
too friendly.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Catherina sighs. “You don’t have a choice, Aurora. Now, be good and do
as you’re told.”
One of Konstantin’s men puts a bag over my head. It smells sour and
musty. The fabric is too thick to see through. No matter how hard I struggle,
no matter how loud I scream, there’s no hope for escape.
I am at Konstantin’s mercy.
And Mikhail’s mother is the bitch who set me up.
CHAPTER 23
 MIKHAIL

I t’s been almost an hour since I sent my last message. She left me on read.
I wonder, with a hint of amusement, if Aurora’s off pouting somewhere.
I’m sure she’d be surprised to learn that I am, in fact, already on the road to
see her and Mother. A quick visit, but I’m eager to see her again.
My brothers have been busy keeping CyberFort running as smoothly as
possible while my time is otherwise occupied. Just because Catherina has
been busy reaching out to her old contacts doesn’t mean I can stand idly by.
A woman is missing, taken in Aurora’s place. I cannot in good conscience sit
around and twiddle my thumbs. So, I’ve been reaching out to contacts of my
own.
CyberFort’s client list is extensive. As a result, I have a few more
advantages over the next guy in the field of cybersecurity. I’ve rubbed elbows
with powerful, influential people. Yes, sometimes I’ve had to twist arms and
prod where it hurts to get into the right rooms, but my industry is a cutthroat
one. You can be the smartest guy in the room, but it doesn’t matter if you
don’t know the right people.
I have a few friends in the NYPD. And when I say friends, I mean people
I have dirt on. Dirt they probably don’t want getting out, lest their own
reputations are tanked. When I approached the Police Commissioner early
yesterday afternoon, I didn’t even have to bring up the five years’ worth of
email logs between him and his three different mistresses. One look at me
was all he needed to know I meant business.
“I’ll keep an ear out,” he’d said. “My informants on the street will keep
me abreast of any movement.”
We shook on it. For now, having the eyes and ears of the police on my
side is going to have to do. I’m sure Konstantin will show up later. I refuse to
be wrapped up in his mysterious ways, in his mystique. My uncle may find
pride in being a ghost, but I won’t be fooled. He’s a mortal man, same as me
—and mortal men can always be found. And killed.
I merge into the right lane, passing a Toyota Corolla going at least five
miles below the posted speed limit. I’m in a hurry, my impatience simmering
beneath the surface of my skin. I hate being caught behind a slow driver. But
just as I try to overtake the car, the Toyota cuts me off and merges into the
same lane.
I lay on my horn and practically slam on the brakes. Fucker.
I try shifting back into my original lane. Maybe it was a mistake on his
part. I could have been in his blind spot and he might not have been paying
attention. It’s best if I put some space between us, except when I try to pull
past him, the Toyota cuts me off again.
What the fuck? This guy’s being an asshole on purpose. And when he
rolls down his window down and sticks a gun out, I suddenly know why.
This isn’t some random shitty driver.
He fires two shots at my car, the bullets narrowly missing the hood and
windshield. I swerve out of the way, tires screeching loudly in protest as we
both pick up speed. My heart hammers against my ribcage. What the fuck is
Konstantin thinking? If he thinks shooting at me is going to convince me to
rejoin the family business, then he’s seriously fucked in the head.
The driver shoots at me again. This time, one of the bullets hits my side
mirror, flinging glass and metal into the air. He aims at my tires, at my
engine, but not once does he actually aim at me. Something bigger is going
on here, some confusing plan I’m too close to see as a whole.
Bang!
One of my front tires goes out, causing the entire car to lurch in one
direction. Thankfully, it’s not into oncoming traffic. My car careens into the
guard rail, the ugly screech of metal against metal screaming inside my skull.
My car comes to an abrupt halt. The Toyota keeps on going…
In the direction of my mother’s home.
Adrenaline courses through my veins. Apart from a minor bump on my
head and a few scratches on my hands from the broken glass, I’m largely
unharmed. The same might not be said for Aurora and Catherina, however. If
Konstantin’s men are all the way out here on Long Island, that can only mean
one thing.
 I climb out of my ruined car with a grunt, shifting through my pockets to
pull out my phone. I call Catherina first. The call goes straight to voicemail. I
try Aurora’s number next. More of the same. Could it be that Konstantin
already has them? How could this have happened? My mother’s address isn’t
listed anywhere public, and it’s not like she keeps a particularly vibrant social
life.
“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath. “Shit.”
There’s no time to speculate, no time to theorize. I need to get to Aurora
and my mother before it’s too late. God forbid—maybe it already is.
A car pulls up behind me, flashing their hazard lights on. An elderly man
steps out, looking at the wreckage with concern.
“Good heavens!” he gasps, getting out of her vehicle. “Are you alright,
son? I saw the whole thing! Do you need me to call the cops? An
ambulance?”
My mind races. This is a mess, but I have no choice but to lean into it.
“No, don’t call anybody,” I say, reaching into my jacket pocket to pull
out my wallet. “I need you to give me your car.”
“Excuse me?”
“How much? I’ll pay you for your vehicle and have a private car sent to
pick you up.”
The man looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Are you out of your
mind? You can’t possibly afford—”
I pull out my checkbook, jotting down my signature while leaving the
amount line blank. I rip off the top check and hand it to him. “Here. I swear
I’m good for it. Look me up if you want to.”
The man takes it with a skeptical look in his eye. I can’t say I blame him,
but I really don’t have any other options.
“Seriously?” he asks.
“Write whatever number you want. I don’t care. Just give me your keys.
Please. Those men are after some people I care about.”
He stares at me for a good ten seconds—which is honestly five seconds
too long. But, after a moment of confused contemplation, the man eventually
tosses me his keys. I breathe a sigh of relief and hand him one of my business
cards.
“Call the number on the bottom there. Ask for Luka. Tell him Mikhail
told you to call and explain what happened. He’ll hook you up with a car as
soon as possible.”
 “Erm… Right. Okay. I hope you know what you’re doing, son.”
I don’t have time to respond or thank him. I get behind the wheel of his
car, jam the key into the ignition, and slam my foot down on the gas. There’s
no time to waste.

The villa is up in smoke.

Fire rages uncontrollably, thick plumes of black billowing up into the sky
as orange and red burst forth through the broken windows and collapsing
roof. Heavy tire tracks have ripped across the front lawn, but the vehicles in
question are no longer here. That’s what Toyota was doing. Their purpose
wasn’t to kill me, only to delay me from reaching the villa in time.
I run, screaming and choking on smoke.
“Aurora! Mother! Where are you?”
The heat is overwhelming, the air so violently hot it burns my face and
dries out my eyes instantly. Catherina’s home might be remote, but surely
someone must have seen the smoke by now. I’m not counting on emergency
services to get here in time, however. If Aurora and my mother are trapped
somewhere inside, there’s a good chance they might have already succumbed
to the smoke and flames.
Helplessness and rage boil inside my chest. Konstantin has taken things
too far. I can’t give up hope. Not yet. If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a
quitter.
My feet carry me forward before my brain even has the chance to think.
My body reacts on its own, drawn to the fire with a growing sense of
urgency. What is my uncle trying to prove by burning down my mother’s
home? That he can get to her, and therefore get to me? Is he trying to show
me that nobody in my family is safe?
My phone rings in my pocket. I let it ring. Now isn’t the time for phone
calls. But as I desperately try to find a way into the villa, the smell of burning
wood and chemicals stinging the insides of my nose, my phone keeps ringing.
Exasperated, I look down at the screen.
An unknown number is attempting to FaceTime me.
Konstantin.
“What the fuck have you done?” I hiss the moment I answer.
 “Ah, it sounds like you’ve arrived. Excellent.”
I cannot make sense of his surroundings. His camera is shaky, like he’s
on the move. It’s far brighter on the outside than in, making for an annoying
amount of camera flare. The only reason I pause is because I catch a glimpse
of something. A wisp of red hair.
“Aurora?”
The camera steadies slightly on her form. There’s a thick cloth gag in her
mouth and her hands have been bound behind her back with zip ties. Beside
her sits Catherina and Charlotte, both similarly restrained and gagged.
For a moment, I feel relieved. Thank fuck they weren’t caught in the fire.
The sensation doesn’t last long, however. Now all I feel is fury.
The roar of a powerful engine almost drowns out my uncle’s voice.
They’re not in a car. No, this is something bigger—something faster. One
quick glance at the harnesses of the seats gives me my answer. They’re on a
plane. I only need one guess to know where they’re going.
He doesn’t show his ugly mug on camera, keeping the phone pointed at
Aurora. There’s a frantic look in her eyes, along with something much darker
and angrier. She glares, not at Konstantin, but my mother. Aurora attempts to
scream something at me, but the cloth in her mouth prevents any intelligible
sounds from getting out.
“Let them go,” I snap.
“We’re about to take off, my dear nephew. I’m afraid there aren’t enough
parachutes onboard. But if you really want me to—”
“Stop it,” I hiss. “Fuck, just…”
“You will come to me,” Konstantin says calmly. “Once you have landed
in Moscow, I will have my men pick you up. Then, and only then, will I
return your women to you.”
I want to scream. Curse. Put my fucking fists through a wall. This son of
a bitch… Is there no limit to his depravity? They’re all innocent. Why is he
so desperate for me to join him at his side? Doesn’t he understand this is the
worst thing he could do to inspire any semblance of loyalty?
All I can do is stare at Aurora, whose eyes are red and swollen from
crying. I thought she’d be safe here. If I kept tucked away, I thought my
uncle wouldn’t be able to harm her. I don’t understand how this could have
happened. Her location was only known to me and my brothers. Could there
have been some sort of leak? Did someone squeal? I can’t imagine Dimitri,
Pyotr, or Luka betraying me or putting our mother in harm’s way. They have
no motivation to do such a thing. So what the fuck is going on?
“Don’t keep me waiting, Misha,” Konstantin says before the call ends.
CHAPTER 24
 AURORA

T he flight is long and disorienting. They’ve got my wrists tied so tightly

my fingers pulse with pain, tingling uncontrollably from the lack of
circulation. The moment the call ends, Konstantin helps Catherina to her feet
in the hull of the airplane, removing her restraints and gag with an apologetic
smile.
“I’m glad to see you never grew out of the theatrics,” he tells her, dipping
down to kiss the back of her knuckles like some seventeenth century
aristocrat.
“You said you want Mikhail back. This is how you do it.”
I open my mouth wide, forcing my gag out with the tip of my tongue. The
fabric slips just enough to let me form proper words. “How could you do
this?” I demand, every muscle in my body seething. “You could have just
told him the truth.”
She scoffs, glaring down her long nose at me like I’m a worm to be
stomped on. “You will never understand,” Catherina says coldly. “You’re not
one of us.”
“Enlighten me.”
“He was never going to agree to join me,” Konstantin says. “This is the
only way to get him to return to Russia.”
“Mikhail’s going to kill you the second he has a chance,” I snap.
Naturally, I don’t know if this is true. He may be uncompromising, but I
don’t think he’s capable of murder. I return Catherina’s glare. “And when he
finds out you sold me out, he’ll never forgive you.”
“He will,” she says simply. “Once we are made Bratva again, he will
understand that everything I’ve done is for a reason. He will thank me.”
 I shake my head. “You make no fucking sense.”
“It is not your place to understand our ways.”
I’m convinced the woman’s gone crazy. Does she not understand how
giving me up to Konstantin to be used as bait is a betrayal? Is she so
desperate to be a part of the Bratva again that she would force her son’s
hand? There has to be something bigger going on here. Something I’m not
seeing.
Catherina may be a heartless bitch, but she’s not stupid.
What am I not seeing?
She and Konstantin seem awfully friendly, but… That makes no sense
either. Isn’t he the one who ordered the hit on her husband, on Mikhail’s
father? Konstantin is the reason they had to leave Russia with their lives.
Everything she’s done so far has been in favor of him. Could it be that
Catherina is trying to earn his trust for some reason? What game is she
playing? If she keeps pushing Mikhail like this, he might snap.
Maybe that’s what she wants.
Beside me, Charlotte whimpers. She hasn’t stopped trembling. I want
nothing more than to wrap my arms around her but settle for gently resting
my head against her shoulder. It’s the only affection and reassurance I can
give her at the moment.
“You didn’t have to bring Cee,” I grumble. “She literally has nothing to
do with this.”
Konstantin shrugs, wearing an easy smile. Fuck him and his friendly airs.
I know by now it’s all for show. There’s nothing friendly or trustworthy
about him.
“I thought you could use the company,” he says with a light chuckle.
God, he’s not even taking me seriously. “We’re going to be in Moscow for a
while. Now, I could lock you up in a basement somewhere, but I’m a
gentleman. Besides, if I’m going to earn my nephew’s trust, I can't harm his
favorite plaything, now can I?”
I grit my teeth. “He’s never going to trust you.”
Konstantin smiles even wider. The man is certifiably unhinged.
Sometimes I wonder if there’s any sense in speaking to him since logic
clearly isn’t something he has a fundamental grasp of. “He will, kisa. He will.
We are family, after all. He can’t stay mad at me forever. Not once he sees all
the things I have to offer.”
I shudder. These Bratva thugs are on a whole other level of deranged. I
can hardly keep up, too delirious and sick with worry. There’s no telling what
they’re going to do to us. Regardless of what Konstantin says, I don’t trust
him to take care of Charlotte and me.
Once we get to Russia, Charlotte and I need to figure out a way to escape.
We have no money, we don’t speak the language. Konstantin’s men have
already confiscated my phone, so there’s no hope in hell of calling for help—
not that my service plan will work halfway across the world anyway. We also
have nothing more than the clothes on our backs. If we can find our way to a
police station maybe…
My stomach twists painfully, a sudden wave of nausea hitting me like a
brick wall. I don’t feel well. I chalk it up to the stress of the situation.
Unfortunately, my condition doesn’t get any better the longer we stay in
the air. We’re well over the Atlantic Ocean by now, hidden away in the back
of what I can only assume is a chartered cargo plane. It’s freezing in here,
designed for the transportation of goods, not humans. There’s limited seating,
all the free chairs taken up by Konstantin’s men, Konstantin himself, and
Catherina. Charlotte and I have been relegated to the floor.
Over the course of the next hour, my skin starts to burn. I’m overheating
despite how cold it is this high up in the air. My joints are achy, my muscles
are seizing. Sweat beads across my forehead despite the cool air of the
plane’s hull. I dry heave, so dizzy and sick I’m not at all surprised when I
lose my lunch.
One of Konstantin’s henchmen clicks his tongue in disapproval, his lip
curling up in disgust. He grumbles something in Russian but makes no move
to check on me. Catherina approaches, one hand on my shoulder. She’s oddly
gentle with me. The woman looks me over with a strange look in her eyes.
I’m so used to her hard exterior and even harsher words that it takes me
aback. How is she so easily able to slip in and out of a caring persona? Is this
yet another performance?
Catherina hisses something to Konstantin’s thugs. One of them produces
a tissue. She takes it and wipes my mouth clean.
“Are you sure?” Konstantin asks from his seat. He makes no effort to
even lift a finger. “Has she taken a test?”
“She does not need to take a test,” Catherina replies. “I know.”
He huffs. “I want empirical facts.”
I yank my head away from Catherina. I can’t stand her being so close.
“The hell are you two talking about?”
 They ignore me outright, continuing their conversation like I’m not even
there.
“She has been showing symptoms all week,” Catherina assures. “But I
can tell well before your doctors can.”
“Your old wives’ tales are of no use to me.”
“You can have one of your doctors make a house call if you’re so
unconvinced.”
“What are you talking about?” I stress, only to heave again. Nothing
comes up, but I don’t know if that’s for better or for worse.
Catherina’s eyes go cold again. This snake really does have two heads,
and I can’t tell what either are thinking. “Stupid girl, don’t you know
already? Can’t you feel it?”
“Oh my fucking God, what?” I grumble.
“Aurora, you’re pregnant.”
My mouth drops open. “No. No, absolutely not. There’s no way. I’m on
birth control. I always take my pill on time.” I shake my head, adamant.
“You’re wrong.”
Catherina snorts, returning to her seat. “I suppose once we get to Russia,
we shall see.”
My mind reels. I don’t believe it. Not for a second. I’ve been careful. I
take my birth control religiously, every morning at exactly seven-thirty on the
dot with my breakfast. It’s built into my daily routine.
But the longer I stew in this revelation—proven or otherwise—the more
the doubts begin to creep in. Could there have been a day where I missed it?
I’ve been so busy with the internship; there’s a sliver of a chance it could
have slipped my mind. My heart thuds harshly, my pulse so loud past my ears
I can barely hear my own thoughts.
No. No, no, no.
If I’m pregnant, it’s Mikhail’s child. And if Catherina suspects I’m
carrying her grandchild and deliberately sold me out to Konstantin… I can’t
make sense of any of this. Is she really so heartless that she’d use me and her
grandchild as bait?
I take a deep breath. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I’m not pregnant.
But if I am…
A wash of emotions floods through me. On the surface, I feel nothing but
fear. I don’t want to bring a baby into the world with all this nonsense going
on. It’s too dangerous. My child wouldn’t be safe. But when I start to search
my feelings, a strange protectiveness overcomes me. I don’t know if it’s true,
but if I really am carrying Mikhail’s baby…
It’s a little exciting, actually. Me, a mother. I’ve never given much
thought to settling down, to starting a family of my own. Hell, I’m still
searching for my family. My father’s out there somewhere doing God knows
what, and here I am, contemplating the thought of a little one of my own. I
won’t know for certain until a doctor comes to check on me, but I know
things are going to be complicated either way.
If I’m not pregnant, fine. Good. I just have to worry about getting
Charlotte and myself as far away from the Bratva as possible. And if I am…
If I am pregnant, then my resolve will triple. I will survive this. I will
figure out a way out of this mess. I don’t care if it throws a wrench in
Catherina’s absurd ploy. I don’t give a shit if I make trouble for Konstantin.
For now, I’ll bide my time. The moment we arrive in Moscow is the
moment I blow their plans sky high.
Until then, I’m in desperate need of sleep. With several hours left to go in
our journey, I close my eyes and let the rumble of the plane lull me into a
weak semblance of peace.
CHAPTER 25
 MIKHAIL

“Y ou can’t be serious,” Lukas grumbles. “You’ve lost your mind,

Misha.”
Dimitri frowns, unusually quiet. “Konstantin will never let you return to
America, you know that, right? Once he has you there, you’ll be trapped
forever.”
“I don’t believe in absolutes,” I tell him, packing the last of my things.
We’re in my office at CyberFort. I’ve got all my business squared away. All
important documents have been forwarded to Merrybell for proper filing, my
business accounts have been transferred to Pyotr, and everything related to
my company profile is now in Luka’s hands. I’ve also given Dimitri a copy
of my will. Just in case.
“At least let us come with you,” Pyotr says, his tone grave. “You can’t do
this alone.”
“No, you need to remain behind to take care of the company.”
“Who gives a fuck about the company?” Dimitri snaps. “He took our
mother. He took your… girlfriend? Are we putting labels on that?”
“Not the point,” Luka interjects.
“Right, not the point. The point is, you need back up, Misha. Going by
yourself is a death sentence.”
I pull on my coat, the muscles in my neck so tense it’s giving me a
headache. “I know. That’s why the three of you must remain here. In the off
chance I don’t survive this, CyberFort will be left to you. I trust the three of
you to run the company in my place.”
Pyotr shakes his head, his jaw a tight line. “We need to go to the
authorities. Get the police involved. Interpol. Don’t we have clients in
Russia?”
“You know as well as I do our influence outside of the States is new.
Fragile. There’s a reason our uncle wants me to meet him in Moscow where
his power is strongest.”
Dimitri clenches his fist. “There has to be something we can do.”
“You were too young to remember it,” I say calmly. “But I do. The
Antonov Bratva… Their influence extends into all branches of government.
Nobody can help us with this. Konstantin has a gun to my head.”
“So you would abandon your life here?” Luka asks, incredulous.
“If it means I can save Aurora and our mother, then yes.”
“This is stupid,” Pyotr grumbles.
“I don’t disagree. But we’re playing by his rules now. I thought I could
keep him away, but our uncle can’t be reasoned with.” I look each of my
brothers directly in the eye. I can see their fear, their frustration, their anger. I
can tell how much they want to come with me, but this is something I have to
do alone. “Konstantin only wants me. He didn’t mention anything about you
three, and I’d very much like to keep it that way. I’m your big brother. It’s
my job to look out for you. It’s clear our uncle will go to incredible lengths to
get what he wants. If I don’t do this, he might come after you next. I won’t let
that happen.”
Luka furrows his brows. “Don’t do this. There has to be another way.”
I place my hand on his shoulder and squeeze firmly. “There isn’t. I should
have known it would end up this way. The Bratva always gets what it wants.”
Dimitri sneers. “What if he kills you?”
“He won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?” Pyotr asks. “What if this is some messed up
form of vengeance? Konstantin killed our father, now he’s going after us.”
“I don’t think that’s what he wants, but if it is, then I will buy the three of
you as much time as I can.”
The tension in the air is thick and heavy. None of us speak. What is there
to say? Konstantin has officially trapped me in a corner, my back against the
wall. There are lives on the line, and I can no longer afford to give him the
runaround. Dimitri, Pyotr, and Luka all look at me like I’m a dead man
walking, but I have no intention of dying. I’ll go to Moscow, just like my
uncle wants. From there, I can formulate a new plan. I need to even the
playing field first, and sometimes the only way to do that is to work behind
enemy lines.
 “I’ll keep in contact for as long as I’m able,” I say. “But if you don’t hear
back from me…” I don’t bother finishing my sentence.
One by one, my brothers give me a hug. Dimitri can barely look me in the
eye. Pyotr gives me a hard pat on the back. Luka, my youngest brother, holds
on for as long as possible. Nobody says goodbye, but it’s implied. With one
last look at my brothers, I turn to leave.
I hope I’ll get to see them again one day, but I’m not holding my breath.
CHAPTER 26
 AURORA

W hen I was a little girl, I used to dream about traveling the world.
Growing up in a small town, all I ever wanted to do was see exotic
sights, eat delicious foods, learn hundreds of different languages and meet a
billion different friends.
Under very different circumstances, I would have been excited to see
Moscow. St. Basil’s Cathedral, the Red Square, the Bolshoi Theatre…
They’re all beautiful landmarks with centuries of history between them. But I
can’t enjoy any of it, not when my life hangs in the balance, and I’m loaded
so quickly into the back of a waiting car there isn’t even time to scream.
Everything here is different. The sound of the language, the feel of the
architecture, even the smell of the city stands in stark contrast to New York.
It’s just as big and bustling and full of life, yet I can’t connect with it in any
way. I don’t belong here. The unfamiliar streets and faces and fashion give
way to a feeling of homesickness. Being here is so surreal, like I’ve been
plucked out of my own reality and dropped into someone else’s.
Charlotte and I are in the back seat of the black SUV. There are guards on
either side of us. The windows are thick and most likely bulletproof and even
the driver is armed with his own pistol. Konstantin and Catherina got into
their own vehicle upon landing, surrounded on all sides by an impressive and
intimidating bodyguard detail.
Konstantin’s power has never been more obvious. Now that he’s back on
home turf, he strides with double the confidence. Like he’s untouchable. His
men, all hardened and tough, look at and follow him with such adoration it’s
almost a form of worship.
In many ways, I see Mikhail in him. They both have people’s respect,
their attention. Their commanding presence can be felt the moment they step
into a room. I wonder if it runs in the family, a natural quality that comes
with being a leader. It’s the same stoicism, the same control…
The main difference is Konstantin’s violent edge.
I’m in the lion’s den now. Hopefully he doesn’t get hungry any time
soon.
We drive for what feels like hours. Maybe it’s only twenty minutes, but I
have no clue. I’m too numb, still struggling to process everything that’s
happened. Catherina’s set up, my suspected pregnancy, Konstantin’s plan to
lure Mikhail to Russia. I have bits and pieces of the overall puzzle, but I don’t
have enough right now to see the bigger picture.
We’re taken to some sort of compound. Tall wire fences surround the
perimeter of the property, armed guards on patrol with a security booth out
front to check IDs before we’re waved on through.
The house itself is actually more of a mansion, three times bigger than
Catherina’s villa with three floors, massive windows, and what looks to be a
warehouse just off to the side. It sits atop a large hill, providing the perfect
vantage point for its residents. They’d be able to see their enemies coming
from all sides. Strategically speaking, it’s brilliant. If it weren’t for the feeling
of impending doom crawling all over my skin, I might have enjoyed the view
more.
Guards drag us out of the car, throwing us over their shoulders like
nothing more than sacks of potatoes. I squirm and I kick and I curse them out,
but none of them understand what I’m saying. If they speak English, it’s
minimal, and I have a sneaking suspicion none of them are jumping at the bit
to learn for my sake.
They carry us into the mansion, moving as a unit. They move so quickly I
genuinely think I’m going to be sick for the umpteenth time today. They
finally dump Charlotte and me in a room, thankfully on the soft surface of a
four-post bed. One of the guards, clad in all black, pulls a knife from his
utility belt. Charlotte screams against her gag, only quieting down in
confusion when he cuts us free of our restraints.
She rips the gag out of her mouth. “Aurora, what the fuck!”
She clings to me, casting a tearful glare at all the guards now standing
watch. They’ve got the windows and the doors to the room covered. I
suppose we could always try and charge our way through, but they’re armed
and we’re outnumbered. I don’t like our odds of survival.
 I hug her close, stroking her hair. “Just calm down, okay? We’re going to
figure this out.”
“I’m sorry,” she blurts out. “About our fight. It was so stupid.”
“Don’t even worry about it, Cee. I’ve totally forgotten all about it.”
“They nabbed me at the club. I wasn’t having any fun without you. I was
going to call you to apologize, so I left and that’s when they grabbed me.
They thought I was you.”
“I know, Cee. I’m so sorry.”
“What have you gotten yourself into? Why are we here?”
“The guards warned me she’d be a chatty one,” Catherina says from the
doorway. She leans against the frame casually, her arms crossed over her
chest. “You’d better learn to keep your voice down while you’re here.
Otherwise, they might slap some duct tape over your mouth.”
My first and only instinct is to run at her. I can’t take on the guards, but I
won’t hesitate to knock Catherina on her ass. We’re more of an equal match,
and the resentment I feel toward her has only been stewing since the villa.
“You bitch—” I raise my hand to slap her across the face.
Unfortunately, a nearby guard catches me by the wrist. He refuses to let
go, keeping my arm suspended in the air.
“Let go!” I shout at him before glaring daggers in Catherina’s direction.
“Tell me what’s going on. Why did you sell us out like this? Why are you
pretending to be kidnapped by Konstantin, too?”
“There are greater plans at work here, my dear,” she says casually. “I
don’t expect you to understand. All you need to do is be good, sit in this
room, and let me take care of the rest.”
I scowl at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nothing will happen to you and your friend as long as you obey.”
“Fuck you, Catherina. We’re not dogs you can order around.”
“Don’t you want to see Mikhail?”
I freeze when I hear his name. My heart sinks. “He’s coming?”
“Konstantin’s men have eyes at JFK. He just boarded a plane.”
Dread claws through me, leaves my insides hollow. “Why would you do
this to him?” I demand, horrified.
“Misha is destined for greater things. He has climbed to the top of the
tech industry, but what good is that in the long run? My son was always
meant to rule.” She takes a deep breath, something wistful clouding her eyes.
I won’t pretend to know what’s going on inside her head. “Now, take a seat,
or you will be made to sit.”
I sneer. “Excuse me?”
“The doctor is here,” Catherina explains pointedly. “We are going to
determine if the Antonov Bratva can expect yet another heir.”
A shiver snakes its way down my spine, a chilling realization suddenly
taking hold. Oh, God. It’s starting to make sense, yet nothing makes sense.
It’s obvious now that Catherina is obsessed with reclaiming her former glory,
chasing after the power and prestige she once held. If Konstantin is looking
to take Mikhail under his wing—by force, it would seem—then Catherina
would have everything she wants. He’d be welcomed back into the Bratva,
and, therefore, so would she.
She doesn’t give a rat’s ass what Mikhail wants. Her selfishness knows
no bounds. And if I’m pregnant with Mikhail’s child, that would only secure
her place for that much longer.
The doctor steps in. He has a gaunt face with deep, dark circles beneath
his eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I would have mistaken him for a crypt
keeper. He says something in Russian quickly before reaching into his bag to
pull out a sterile cup. He gives it to me with a forceful shove.
Catherina tilts her chin toward a door near the back corner of the room.
“That’s the bathroom. Go on. Don’t keep us waiting.” Charlotte moves like
she wants to come with me, but Catherina snaps her fingers. “You. Stay.”
She’s already treating us like dogs.
I give Charlotte a little nod. “It’s going to be okay, Cee. I’ll be right
back.”
The bathroom, much like the bedroom, is spacious. The walls are covered
in a maroon floral wallpaper, the molding boasting intricate filigree. I’m not
here to admire the decor, however. I have far more pressing matters on my
mind. Like how the hell I’m going to get out of here. If Mikhail’s coming,
maybe we can figure out a way to escape together and leave this madness
behind.
I let the water run. Nature calls. It bothers me to no end knowing at least
ten different people are waiting on the other side of the door. When I finish, I
wash up and leave the stupid little cup on the bathroom counter.
I come out with an indignant huff. “Let’s get this over with.”
Charlotte scoots over on the edge of the bed and pulls me down next to
her. We hold each other’s hands tightly, the only comfort we can find given
the circumstances. The doctor enters the bathroom with his bag, returning a
few long minutes later.
“Chtozh?” Catherina snaps impatiently.
The doctor simply nods. It’s all the answer I need.
I’m pregnant, and I’ve been kidnapped by the Bratva.
CHAPTER 27
 MIKHAIL

I ’m not at all surprised when I find him waiting for me at the airport. When
the private jet I borrowed from Buffet was directed to stop at a separate
hangar, I knew something was up. Konstantin and his men were easy to spot
out of the windows, a foreboding presence dressed in all black like they’re
getting ready for a funeral.
I hope it isn’t mine.
“Welcome home, dear nephew,” he greets with a hearty laugh, his arms
spread out wide as if expecting a hug. I make no move to humor him.
“Where are they?” I ask immediately. One of Konstantin’s men searches
me roughly, patting me down from head to toe in search of weapons.
“They’re at the compound. You remember the compound, don’t you?”
“Let them go. I’m here now, just like you wanted. Set them free.”
My uncle shrugs, laughing softly. He ignores my demand outright and
gestures to the waiting vehicle behind him. I should have expected it
wouldn’t be so easy.
It’s strange being back after so long, like walking into a dream. Moscow
has changed immensely in the years I’ve been away. As we drive through the
cold, grey city, flashes of my childhood streak across my mind’s eye. I used
to walk these streets with my little brothers, visiting the park together. It has
long since been replaced by massive apartment complexes, the sidewalks full
and crowded with people going about their days.
“How was your flight?” Konstantin asks me with an easy smile.
I’m not going to dignify that with a response.
“Don’t look so sour, nephew. People will think somebody died.”
“Keep pissing me off, and you just might.”
 My uncle chuckles. He knows he’s in his element. This is his territory, his
kingdom. He will do and say whatever he pleases. I’m treading on thin ice as
it is, but I sincerely doubt he’s going to kill me. Why go through all this
trouble just to put a bullet in my head?
I’m safe for the moment.
Pulling up to the compound brings up a fresh batch of childhood
memories. This place has been passed down through four Antonov
generations. My father used to tell me the mansion was acquired during the
chaos following the Russian Revolution. My great-great-grandfather
purchased the property from its original owners, lesser nobility who felt the
need to flee to Europe to save their own necks. It’s been the Antonov
Bratva’s fortress ever since.
Konstantin’s been making upgrades to the place. There used to be a thick
border of trees around the compound for privacy’s sake—and to make it
easier to pick off any fool dumb enough to trespass. He’s added several
watch towers, tripled the number of guards on active patrol, and the tall
fencing has been upgraded with barbed wire winding around the top and
bottom. He’s been taking security very seriously, something I suppose we
have in common.
The car pulls up to the front of the mansion. There are two armed guards
posted on either side of the large double doors leading inside. Konstantin and
I climb out, along with his personal bodyguards. They keep me within arm’s
reach, one hand gripping onto either of my shoulders like they’re afraid I
might make a run for it. They have no need to worry. I’m not going anywhere
without Aurora and my mother.
“Home sweet home,” Konstantin says with a contented hum. “Nice to be
back, no?”
“Where are they?” I snap. “Stop stalling. If you hurt a single hair on their
heads, I’ll—”
His bodyguards dig their fingers into my shoulders harder, sharp talons
against my tense muscles. One of them makes a hasty move to reach for the
pistol holstered at his hip, but Konstantin clicks his tongue, shakes his head.
The man immediately stands down.
My uncle reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes. He
lights up, taking a long drag. “Don’t give yourself a heart attack, nephew.
They’re being treated like princesses. They’re living it up in the east wing.”
“I want to see them.”
 “Very well.”
Konstantin tilts his head to his nearest guard. “Bring them to the
window,” he instructs.
Instructions fly quickly over the radios strapped to their chests. They’ve
got an entire closed-circuit communication network set up. I’d be impressed
if I weren’t two seconds away from ripping into all of them with my bare
hands.
I detect movement above. From where I’m standing in the front
courtyard, I can see the curtains on a third floor window fly open. My eyes
widen when I see Aurora. She steps forward, clearly shouting at someone as
she swats a hand away. One of the guards must have made the mistake of
manhandling her. She looks feral, ready to start a fight.
Then our eyes lock.
She presses her hands against the window, looking around desperately for
a way to open it. Her mouth moves, her breath fogging up the glass. Frantic.
She’s trying to tell me something, but we’re too far away and the window is
too thick for sound to escape. I try to read her lips, but I only get bits and
pieces.
What is she trying to tell me?
For now, I’m just happy to see she’s alive and well—and quite literally
kicking. I can tell she’s a serious handful for her guards.
“Release her,” I demand. “I’m here. You have what you want. Let her
go.”
Konstantin takes another long drag of his cigarette. He takes his time, lets
the smoke sit in his lungs. I’m not an idiot. It’s a negotiation tactic, an
attempt to instill a power imbalance. While I’m waiting on the edge of my
seat for a response, he has all the time he needs to get a read on me. It’s a
strategy I’ve personally used in many client meetings. If there’s one thing
people can’t stand, it’s silence. It’s a matter of who breaks whom first.
I’m really starting to hate how similar we are. It looks like the proverbial
apple hasn’t fallen very far from the Antonov tree.
“I’ll release her eventually,” Konstantin finally says, silver smoke
filtering out through his nostrils. “After you’ve been officially initiated into
the Bratva.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Haven’t I done enough?”
“You know as well as I do that I no longer have any legitimate heirs.” He
says this as he glances down at his shoes. Is this a rare display of weakness
I’m seeing? Or is this just another tactic to garner my sympathy? “My
enemies are everywhere, Misha,” he continues. “Our enemies. And they’re
getting ready to make their move. I need your help to keep them at bay.”
“I’m not like you.”
“You can tell yourself that all you want, dear nephew, but whether you
like it or not, this was the life you were born into. This—” he gestures
vaguely about the compound “—is your legacy. Lev and I… We made the
Antonov Bratva to be great.”
“Keep my father’s name out of your mouth,” I seethe.
He claps me on the shoulder, moving in close to growl in my ear. “I
meant what I said in New York, Misha. Let bygones be bygones. Lev and I
built this empire for our boys. I regret what happened, but that’s how we
work. Lev knew the rules and he broke them, but that doesn’t mean I want to
see you and your brothers punished for his lapse in judgment. I’m not
completely devoid of sentiment.”
“So you want me to be your heir, is that it?”
“You must look at the bigger picture, nephew. Family comes first. It must
always come first. I plan on being around for a very long time, but you know
how this business is. Messy, yeah? Full of twists and turns. And if something
should happen to me, I want the Bratva to fall to you. Would you rather see
all this fall into the hands of our enemies? The Stokayevskis, the Volkovs…
You remember those sick bastards, don’t you?”
I grind my teeth. These are names I haven’t heard in decades, but they
still make my blood run cold. They scared me more than stories about the
boogieman.
“Those violent fucks…” Konstantin hisses. “They destroy everything
they touch. They don’t care who gets hurt in the process. At least the
Antonov Bratva operates with honor. We keep Moscow under control. At
peace.”
I sneer. “So what you’re saying is joining you and running the business is
the lesser of two evils.”
My uncle winks, clicks his tongue. “Now you’re getting it.”
“What’s stopping me from letting all this burn? I don’t give a shit about
the Bratva. I could kill you in your fucking sleep.”
He smirks. “You could, if you wanted to. I’m not going to stop you.”
I squint at him. There’s a catch, I just know it.
Konstantin smiles up at the third-floor window. Aurora’s been watching
this whole time, her face twisted in anguish and horror. “Why do you think I
brought her, hm? Your woman. Your dear mother. Do you think I went to all
this trouble, smuggling them out of the country, just for shits and giggles?”
His threat goes unspoken, but I catch his meaning just fine. If I do
anything to betray him, he’ll kill Aurora and Catherina without hesitation.
My back is against the wall and he knows it. As long as I do as he says, as
long as I fall in line, nothing will happen to them. He’s forcing my surrender,
my compliance.
And I have no choice but to give in.
“The initiation,” I grumble. “What does it entail?”
Konstantin smiles wide. The bastard thinks he’s won, but this is only the
beginning. I’m biding my time. I’m in for the long game now. When I find
the right moment, I’ll kill him without remorse. Until then… if he wants a
mobster, I’ll show him a fucking mobster.
“The Stokayevskis,” he says slowly, taking one last drag of his cigarette
before tossing it to the ground. He crushes the butt beneath the heel of his
shoe. “They have a son, Nicolai. The idiot made a move on my territory
while I was behind bars. I need you to send them a message. The Antonovs
won’t tolerate that kind of disrespect.”
I set my jaw. “What are we talking about here? A few broken bones?
Take out his teeth?”
Konstantin shakes his head. “No, dear nephew. Heavy is the hand of the
law. We must make an example out of him.”
My chest tightens. “You want me to kill him.”
My uncle chuckles, smiling like we’re in the middle of a jovial
conversation and not openly discussing a hit. “Nicolai is in hiding right now.
Last I heard, he was holed up in some bunker in Belgorod.”
He whistles sharply at one of his guards, who promptly hands me a
handgun. The cold metal bites into my palm.
“Bring me proof,” Konstantin says. “A video should do.”
Anger licks at the nape of my neck. This is crazy. My uncle is fucking
insane.
I point the gun at his forehead, my fingers curling around the trigger.
His men freak out, shouting urgently as they raise their own weapons,
training their sights on me. I could end this. Stop the madness. Konstantin
stares me down with an air of boredom, reaching into his pocket for another
cigarette. He lights up, the orange flicker of his lighter casting shadows on his
face.
“And you say you’re not Bratva,” he says, amused. Konstantin’s eyes
flick up to Aurora with a grin. I can’t help but follow his line of sight. My
throat closes, but I don’t move a muscle. Her guards have guns to her head.
If I shoot Konstantin, they’ll kill her and then kill me. Nobody wins. He’s
made sure of that.
Fuck.
I lower my gun, my lips pressed into a thin line. Aurora’s guards ease up,
too. They won’t make a move as long as I don’t. I feel like I’m suffocating,
every breath I take burning the insides of my lungs. I need to take a life to
save a life, but by then, I’ll be in too deep. Konstantin has planned this from
the start.
He knows as well as I do that if I kill a member of the Stokayevskis,
they’ll be after me. No turning to the police. No running back to America. No
choice but to stay with Konstantin and rely on his protection. That’s how he
plans on keeping me loyal to him—using my own fear and need for survival
against me.
“Fine,” I grumble under my breath. “I’ll do it.”
Konstantin laughs joyfully. “I’m so glad to hear it.”
“But I want to see Aurora and my mother, first.”
“You can see them. After the deed is done.”
I look up at Aurora, can practically sense her desperation. Right now, I
want nothing more than to hold her. Kiss her. Tell her everything is going to
be okay. I’ll do whatever I have to in order to get us out of this mess. But I
can’t do any of that. Not with Konstantin and his men in the way.
All I can do is put a hand over my heart. She nods slowly, her bottom lip
trembling as she, too, places a hand over her heart. It’s a silent promise, a
quiet comfort.
“Give me the fucking keys,” I hiss, making my way to the front of the
car, gun shoved into the back of my waistband.
CHAPTER 28
 AURORA

I t’s been four weeks and I haven’t heard anything. None of the house staff
speaks any English, I assume by design. How better to isolate Charlotte
and me than by leaving a massive language barrier in place? We can’t ask for
help, we can’t get any information. Charlotte and I have been left in the dark,
just the way Konstantin likes.
Catherina is… somewhere. Unlike us, she’s free to move about the
mansion. She hasn’t visited us once since first arriving, but it’s not like I’d be
happy to see her. I’m more likely to scratch her eyes out than endure a civil
conversation with her. I’d much rather focus my attention on Charlotte…
And the baby growing inside me.
Charlotte and I are curled up together in bed for warmth. We’re not living
in dire conditions. The house staff brings us three square meals a day, the
heat works perfectly fine, and there’s plenty of reading material to browse
through. We stick close anyways, unwilling to separate even for a moment.
She’s my only friend in this forsaken place. I need to keep her safe, and I can
tell she’s thinking the same thing.
She has a hand on my belly. “Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”
I laugh softly. “I don’t know. Maybe a girl?”
“We should start drafting a list of names,” Charlotte suggests, our
conversation light. “Something exotic, you know? So she stands out from the
crowd.”
“I was thinking Sandra,” I admit.
“Like your mom?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
Charlotte smiles gently. “You know what? Screw exotic. Sandra sounds
nice. Now, what if it’s a boy—”
The loud stomping of booted feet sounds just outside in the hall. The
guards are changing their stations. Charlotte and I exchange a cautious glance
before we both carefully climb out of bed, tiptoeing over to the door. We
press our ears against the wood, listening carefully. While she takes note of
the time, I listen in on their conversation.
It’s low and muffled, but I’m starting to pick up little bits and pieces of
Russian. The guards never talk to us, but that doesn’t stop them from talking
to each other. I’ve learned a few of their names, some numbers, how to say
food and girls and I’m tired.
Charlotte and I haven’t been wasting our time in here. We’re not damsels
in distress waiting for a hero to show up and save the day. We’ve been
actively recording their comings and goings, trying to get a sense of their
rotation. I’ve been diligently trying to figure out if there’s a window of
opportunity, a momentary lapse in surveillance. So far, no luck. They’re too
well trained, too in sync, but I’m not giving up hope just yet.
The second they make a mistake and leave us unattended is the second
Charlotte and I are going to try and escape.
“Anything?” Charlotte whispers to me.
I strain to listen. They speak too fast and too low, but names are always
the easiest to catch.
Something something Mikhail something something.
My heart skips a beat.
I’ve been worried sick about him. The brief few minutes I got to see him
outside the mansion sparked a hope deep within my core. He’s here. He came
after me. And then Konstantin sent him away to God knows where. I
remember screaming myself hoarse, my throat tearing itself to pieces when
he drove away. I begged, pleaded for him to come back. Naturally, he
couldn’t hear a word I said.
I haven’t seen him since. Nobody will tell me where he’s gone or when
he’ll be back or if he’ll be back at all. All I can do is pray and try to keep
calm. My stress levels have been through the roof lately. I can’t imagine my
spike in cortisol is particularly good for the baby’s development.
The sharp click clack of stilettos against the tile floor outside alerts me of
a new visitor. Unless one of the guards has decided to don a pair of kitten
heels, it can only mean one thing…
“Let me through,” Catherina snaps.
 I back away just as the door swings open. She walks in like she owns the
place. She certainly looks the part of Bratva royalty, dressed in an elegant
midi-length black dress with a fur vest over. A red fox, if I had to guess. Her
ears and neck are decorated with ridiculously large pearls, her fingers
sparkling with all manner of bejeweled gems. Clearly the cold Moscow air
agrees with her.
“Go away,” I grumble.
“I’m not here for you. I’m here to check on my grandson.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “You’re not going to get your hands on my baby,
you crazy bitch.”
She ignores me, stepping forward to place her hands on my belly. I’m not
showing a great deal, but I’ve started to notice changes in my body. My ass
and thighs have gotten rounder, my belly just a bit bigger, and my breasts
have become undeniably more tender. My hair’s taken on a healthy sheen,
and my skin has never been more agreeable. The house staff has also gone to
the trouble—most likely because they were ordered to—of fetching me new
clothes that fit much better, though I’m finding they’re starting to grow
tighter around the belly, too.
Charlotte swats Catherina’s hand away. “Don’t you know you’re not
supposed to touch a pregnant woman without her permission? That’s so
rude!”
Catherina pulls her hand back with a scoff. “I’d be careful how you speak
to me. It was my idea to let you come so Aurora might have some company.”
“Oh, I’m so thankful you had me smuggled out of the country,” Charlotte
says dryly. “This has been such a wonderful vacation. I owe you all my
thanks.”
I sigh. “What do you want?”
“I’m here to take you out for a walk about the compound. Your guards
have informed me of your good behavior over the past month. Consider it a
reward for your compliance.”
The corner of my lip turns up into a sneer. “The last time you invited me
out on a walk, I wound up being shoved into the back of a cargo plane. No,
thank you.”
I’m about to push her out of my shared room with Charlotte and slam the
door in her face, but Catherina quickly says, “I have news about Mikhail.” I
freeze. She sure knows how to get my attention. “Hurry up. I don’t like being
kept waiting.”
 The compound is massive and intimidating. I thought I’d gotten used to
having so many eyes on me but being outside in full view of the guard towers
and security cameras along the perimeter line makes me feel uncomfortably
exposed. Maybe it’s a good thing Catherina is taking me out for some fresh
air. Any longer spent inside might make me agoraphobic.
One thing I’ll never get used to is all the guns. I’ve seen them in TV
shows and in movies but seeing them up close and personal sends a shiver
down my spine.
“Breathe easy,” Catherina says. “I’ve slowly been replacing the guards on
the compound with men loyal to me,” she says, a low whisper in my ear.
“While you’ve been locked up in your room, lounging about without a care,
I’ve been busy making my move under Konstantin’s nose.”
I scoff. “I’m not lounging. Believe me, if there was something productive
I could be doing, I would have done it by now.”
“I need you for the second half of my plan,” she continues. “You work
for Mikhail, don’t you? At his company. You’re good with computers, yes?”
“Good? I’m phenomenal.”
“While Mikhail is busy earning Konstantin’s trust, therefore lowering his
guard, I need you to access his accounts.”
I furrow my brows before remembering to plaster a neutral expression on
my face. There’s no telling who’s watching, who might come to suspect this
is more than a leisurely stroll. “His accounts?”
“Konstantin’s money… The Bratva’s money. It’s held up in several
accounts spread out all across Europe. It’s how he’s managed to maintain
control and power in Russia for so long. Money talks, as the old saying goes.
But if we cut him off at the source…”
“We could cripple him from the inside,” I realize aloud.
“He has a lot of people on his payroll,” Catherina says. “The police,
government officials, informants working for other Bratva clans. If that
money dries up, what do you think will happen?”
“They’ll come after him. He’ll be without allies.”
She nods. “Dead in the water. Do you think that’s something you can
do?”
“I’d need a laptop. And time. Lots of it. But I doubt Konstantin will
approve giving me a laptop.”
“I can say I’m taking you to see the doctor,” she suggests. “We’ll take a
drive downtown. I’ll find you someplace safe to work for a few hours every
week.”
“That… could work. But what if Konstantin gets suspicious?”
“Leave that to me. I’ve got a silver tongue and I know how to direct
conversations where I need them to go.”
Hope rises in my chest, but is it too good to be true?
“This was your plan all along?” I murmur. “To use your son as a
distraction while I do the dirty work?”
Catherina shrugs a shoulder, unapologetic. “It was supposed to be Luka,
but then Mikhail brought you straight to me. Talk about fortuitous, hm?”
“You and I must go by very different definitions.” I yank my arm away
from hers and gesture toward the mansion. “Why not just tell Mikhail all this
from the start? You have us running around like chickens with our heads cut
off while you get to bask in your brand-new castle.”
“It’s as you said, Aurora,” she answers without missing a beat. “Mikhail
is a good man. He would never have come back and let himself be taken in
under Konstantin’s wing without a little… encouragement.”
“Someone’s going to get hurt,” I warn. “If anything happens to Mikhail,
I’ll never forgive you.”
Catherina sneers at me. “You should really be worrying about yourself,
dear girl. Besides, the only person who’s going to get hurt is the bastard who
killed my husband.”
I swallow hard, unable to dislodge the lump stuck in the back of my
throat. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? This whole thing. So you can
get revenge for Lev.”
For the briefest moment, I see a side to Catherina I’ve never seen before.
Her mask falls away, revealing what she really is—a scared, lonely woman
clinging to her vengeance because it’s all she has left.
“Lev was the love of my life,” she whispers, voice so small and tight it
actually tugs at my heartstrings. “My best friend. My confidant. Never in a
million years did I imagine Konstantin would order a hit on his own brother.”
Catherina looks me dead in the eye. “Maybe you can sympathize. I pray you
never have to understand what it’s like to lose the man you love. I’ve spent
the last thirty years plotting Konstantin’s downfall. And I need your help.
Can I count on you?”
I let her words linger inside my skull, allowing every syllable to soak into
the deepest crevices of my brain. I don’t really have a choice in the matter,
but at least now I understand her motivations. The sooner I help Catherina
achieve what she wants, the sooner Charlotte, Mikhail, and the baby and I
can all go home.
I nod, just once. “I’ll help you.”
Catherina doesn’t smile, but I can see a glint of hope in her eyes. Maybe
there’s a human under that icy exterior, after all. “Excellent. I’ll book an
appointment for you tomorrow afternoon and we can get started.”
I force an uneasy smile. “I can’t wait.”
CHAPTER 29
 MIKHAIL

N icolai Stokayevski is one difficult son of a bitch to find.

I’ve been scouring the region from top to bottom looking for any
hints of his whereabouts. Konstantin’s information was too general, too
vague, so I’ve had no choice but to camp out in a small hotel in the corner of
the city while I do my due diligence. It’s one thing to go up to a man and
shoot him point blank, but it’s another matter entirely to pull off a hit and
make it out alive. This isn’t a one and done sort of deal. I need to be careful,
or I might end up with a bullet in my head.
I’ve put a couple of feelers out, asked around. The locals are tight-lipped,
however. When I try to bring up Nicolai, they have a tendency to scuttle
away saying they’ve never heard of the man. They’re lying, which tells me
one of two things: they’re either afraid of Nicolai and are afraid of what the
Stokayevski Bratva might do to them, or they’re afraid of me and what the
Antonov Bratva might do to them. I’m caught between a rock and a hard
place.
And I’m running out of time.
My hotel room has become a bit of a command center. I’ve got maps of
the city pinned to the ugly puce-colored walls, suspected locations either
circled or crossed out with black marker. My laptop is open, a secure chat
box open on screen. I’ve got the radio set to the local police scanners, too,
listening for any hint of chatter about Nicolai’s whereabouts. If the cops
aren’t actively hunting him down, then there’s a good chance they’re
protecting him. The Antonov’s aren’t the only ones with contacts inside the
police department. If I’m patient, I’ll hear whispers sooner or later.
I think I found his phone number.

I’m quick to respond to Luka’s chat message. The whole system is encrypted,
not just for his safety, but for mine. I won’t risk using my cellphone out here.
An American number is too easy to identify, and I don’t want any rival
Bratva tracking me down the way Konstantin did.

Any recent pings? We can try and triangulate his location.

It hasn’t seen any activity in over three weeks. I assume he smashed it to bits
to keep from being discovered.

Give me his last ping, then. I can work from there.

He could literally be anywhere, Misha. What if he’s left the country?

I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh in frustration. My brother is right.

There’s no telling if Nikolai Stokayevski is even in the country. Konstantin
could have me on a wild goose chase, for all I know. I run my fingers through
my hair and take a deep breath. I can’t give up now. Not when she is waiting
for me.
I haven’t stopped thinking about Aurora. I miss her so much that I feel the
ache in my bones. Guilt weighs heavily on my chest. She’s in this mess
because of me. I sincerely hope my uncle is making good on his promise to
take care of her; otherwise there’s going to be hell to pay.

Just give me the info. I’ll take it from there.

One sec.

I take my gun apart, breaking it down into its individual pieces. My hands are
desperate for something to do while I wait. I strip my weapon down to the
screws, the parts arranged neatly on the glass coffee table of my hotel room. I
must have stripped my gun a hundred times today alone, but it’s the only way
to keep my wits about me. My thoughts spiral otherwise. The monotony of
the task—taking it apart, putting it back together, taking it apart again—
calms my nerves. It gives me the control I so desperately need to feel.
Nicolai Stokayevski needs to die, but the problem is I don’t want to kill
him. I may be a heartless businessman, but I’m not a murderer. My situation
is made infinitely worse by the fact that Konstantin wants video proof.
Images are easy to fake. I could have sourced a body from somewhere—
maybe I could bribe the local morgue to provide a cadaver—and dress it up
to look like Nicolai. It could have been convincing. Unfortunately, video
evidence is much harder to manipulate. I have no doubt Konstantin asked for
a video of Nicolai’s execution for that very reason.
I put my gun back together again, counting the bullets as I pop them back
into the magazine. Fifteen rounds. If all goes well, I’ll only need to use one.
In an ideal world, I wouldn’t have to use any at all. My mind spins. There has
to be a way around this. There has to be. I may be teetering over the edge of
right and wrong, but I refuse to let Konstantin push me over.
My laptop dings. A new message from Luka pops up.

Northeast of Belgorod. Very rural area. Lots of ground to cover.

I grind my molars as I inspect the map he attached. It’s not a lot, but it’s
something. I haven’t explored this area yet, so I really have nothing to lose.
You better be careful. Dimitri’s gone completely grey.

He worries too much.

You can’t exactly blame us.

I miss my brothers. I miss home. But the more time that passes, the more I’m
beginning to realize there’s no going back. I’ve been sent down a one-way
path. My old life is dead and gone. Maybe it was always meant to end up this
way. When I was younger, I used to dream of exacting vengeance for my
father’s death. But I was too naive, too small to take on my uncle. Now I’m
back and things are different. If Konstantin wants me to embrace who I am,
who I was meant to be, then fine.
When the time is right—I’ll show him exactly what kind of monster I’m
capable of being.
I stash my gun in the waistband of my pants and grab my jacket from the
edge of the bed. Nicolai can’t hide from me forever. Before I set out, I send
my youngest brother one last message.

Has Dimitri heard back from his contact yet?

Not yet, but I’m sure he’s on board. Will keep you posted.

You’d better. We’ve only got one shot at this.

And with that, I set out to find my mark.

CHAPTER 30
 AURORA

I don’t have a lot of time. Even when I’m being escorted off the
compound’s premises, I’m surrounded on all sides by an army of guards.
It’s honestly suffocating, but my heart beats frantically with anticipation. If
Catherina’s done what she said she would, I have forty to fifty minutes of
privacy with a laptop and an internet connection.
Given my computing capabilities, I’m confident I’m about to do a lot of
damage. Konstantin won’t know what’s coming.
We really do arrive at the doctor’s clinic, and we really are taken to one
of the examination rooms in the very back. Catherina is already there waiting
for me, her arms crossed over her chest. There’s a clunky black laptop sitting
on the exam table.
I can’t help but curl my nose at it. “Seriously?”
“Is there a problem?”
“This thing looks like it was made in the nineties.”
“It’s the best I can do on short notice. Can you make do with it or not?”
I pry open the laptop and boot it up. It’s running on Windows XP. I stifle
the urge to roll my eyes. Not ideal, but it’s better than nothing. The internet
connection isn’t as strong as I would have liked either, but I can make do.
“I want some privacy,” I tell her.
Catherina frowns at me. “That’s not going to happen.”
“I work best when I have space to breathe. I’m not going anywhere. You
can have guards posted at the door if you need to, but I don’t want you
breathing down my neck and distracting me.”
The woman huffs, throwing her hands up in some semblance of mock
surrender. “Remember, the goal is to identify and get into Konstantin’s
accounts.”
“I know, I know. Now, please leave so I can get to work.”
“I’ll be back when our time is up. Konstantin will be returning from a
meeting downtown, and I’d prefer it if we got back to the compound before
he did.”
I nod, setting the laptop on the doctor’s low desk. It’s built directly into
the wall, a little wheely stool set out just before it. I take a seat, roll my head
from side to side to stretch my neck, crack my knuckles, and get to work.
A man like Konstantin is careful. Why else would he split his money
across several different accounts across the continent? I sincerely doubt he’d
be stupid enough to leave his passwords just lying about somewhere. He
probably has an accountant, someone to manage his books. That is my
opening.
I take a deep breath, searching my memories. I think back to my
internship at CyberFort and the day we were hacked because Buck made the
stupid mistake of clicking a link from an unknown sender. A jolt of
inspiration spikes through me. It’s a long shot, but it just might work.
Glancing at the time in the bottom right-hand corner of the laptop’s
screen, I take note of how many minutes I have left. Thirty, maybe thirty-
five. Given how slow my internet browser is loading, that’s not enough time
to write a brand-new virus, but a keystroke logging program… That’s the
next best thing.
I get to work, my blood thrumming through my veins. My mind is so
thankful for the stimulation that I feel the genuine sting of tears in my eyes,
so relieved to finally be doing something productive. I need to help Mikhail
in any way I can. And since I don’t know how to fight, don’t know how to
use a gun, at least I can do this much and tear Konstantin down from the
inside.
A keystroke logging program is exactly what it sounds like. It’s a tiny
little piece of software that’s capable of collecting every press of a letter and
every click of a mouse. Every email, login username and password, and
number input would be in the palm of my hands. I don’t see any point going
after Konstantin directly, but his accountant? Chances are he’s too busy
juggling all the Antonov Bratva’s accounts to realize something is amiss—
until it’s too late.
Five minutes left. My program is almost done. Now for a few more pieces
of vital information.
 I carefully get up from the stool I’ve been seated on and stretch. My hand
falls protectively to my belly. My gradual weight gain is starting to become
noticeable, my joints somewhat swollen and my back always sore. I make a
silent promise to myself that when this is all over, I’m going to take my baby
somewhere safe. Somewhere they can grow up happy and healthy, far away
from this Bratva nonsense.
I poke my head out the door to the exam room. Catherina stands on just
the other side of the hall. It seems she’s taken to guarding me herself.
“Everything alright?” she asks, though I don’t think she’s so much
concerned about me as she is with the task at hand.
I throw a cautious glance down the hall to make sure nobody is listening.
“I need the name of the Antonov Bratva accountant.”
“There are several,” she points out. “Konstantin does not like to have all
his eggs in one basket.”
“Then I need all their names. As well as their emails.”
“That might take me some time…” she admits. I appreciate her honesty.
“I can’t go around asking for that information so brazenly. It’ll raise
suspicions.”
“Can you do it, though? By next week?”
She presses her lips into a thin line, her thin brows stitching together into
a contemplative frown. “Yes,” she says. “I can.”
I suck in a sharp breath, doing my best to keep my excitement from
spilling out of me. I can taste the promise of freedom on my tongue. Do I
dare hope?
“Good. Set up another appointment for next week. Come up with an
excuse. I’ll finish up in here and then we can go before Konstantin gets back
to the mansion.”
Catherina nods.
I close the door behind me and close out my work. The program is
finished. All I need to do is send it off in a mass wave of emails from
different, untraceable accounts. It doesn’t matter that Konstantin has several
accountants. I only need one to be careless enough to make the mistake of
clicking on my link. Before I shut the laptop off, however, there’s one last
thing I need to try.
I need to find a way to contact Mikhail.
There’s no phone in the examination room, so the only option I have is
email. But given everything that’s going on, I can’t exactly imagine Mikhail
stopping to check his inbox. What I really need is to contact somebody who
can contact him for me, and there are only three people who come to mind:
his brothers.
They’re a unit, the Antonov brothers. If I can get in touch with one, I can
get in touch with all. The only question is how?
I login to CyberFort’s employee portal, breathing a sigh of relief when it
lets me back in without a hitch. I fire off a private message over the
company’s servers to Luka. I don’t have a lot of time. I can hear footsteps
outside, probably the guards coming to collect me. My message needs to be
succinct.

Tell M I’m okay. I miss him.

I slam the ENTER key and close the browser just as Catherina steps in. She
arches a brow.
“Let’s go,” she says. “Konstantin has requested our presence for dinner.”
A twinge of confusion makes my chest sting. “Dinner? He’s never asked
us to join him for dinner before.”
“Maybe not you.”
“I’d really rather not break bread with the man who kidnapped me.”
“That’s not up to you, Aurora. You know that. Come, come. We’re
burning daylight. We must head downtown to get you fitted for a nice dress.”
“I didn’t realize dinner was such a formal occasion for you people.”
“Not usually,” she admits. “But Konstantin tells me we’re having guests.”
“Who?”
“The biggest players in Moscow.”
CHAPTER 31
 MIKHAIL

I f I were the kind of man who leapt for joy, I would. I don’t, of course,
because that would be ridiculous, though I am elated to have finally found
him. It took much too much time, but I finally tracked Nicolai down.
It was a simple matter of asking around, claiming to be an old family
friend who’d lost the piece of paper with his address—how silly of me—
before a nice elderly man at a fruit stand gave me a general direction to
follow. Nicolai was new in these parts and stood out like a sore thumb.
I park my car a good distance away, hidden around the bend of an old
service road. The trees provide plenty of cover, but it’s going to be difficult
getting anywhere near. He’s taken up residence in an old farmhouse. The
address was never publicly listed, which explains why I was having such a
difficult time pinning him down. Now that I’m here, though, it’s so obvious.
The windows are all boarded up. None of the lights are on. On the
outside, the place looks totally abandoned. Were it not for the active electric
fence posted around the small perimeter of the property, it would have been
easy to dismiss the place as abandoned. No wonder this guy has been so hard
to find. He’s good at hiding in plain sight.
But now the game is over. I’ve found him. It’s time to put an end to this
nonsense.
Nobody shoots at me when I stomp up the gravel path toward the
farmhouse. No bombs go off, no traps are sprung. Hell, the front door is even
open. I draw my weapon, prepared for the worst. I was expecting far more
resistance. I slowly step inside, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness.
Imagine my surprise when I find a man, probably Nicolai, just… sitting
there at the kitchen table. He looks at me, eyes watery and almost lifeless.
There are dark circles beneath his eyes. He’s a big man like me, but
everything about him seems to wilt. His head hangs low, his shoulders are
slumped, his long, greasy brown hair dangling on either side of his bushy,
full beard. There’s a gravity to him, an air of defeat. Both his hands are on the
table, no weapon of his own in sight. He looks roughly the same age as I, but
the weariness in his expression makes him look twenty years older.
“You’ve finally come for me,” he says in Russian, voice hoarse and
rough. “Go on, then. Get it over with.”
I look around. There are no signs of other occupants. It’s just him.
“You want me to kill you?” I reply in my mother tongue, mildly
confused.
“Would you rather I fight?” Nicolai lets his head tilt back so he can stare
blankly at the ceiling. “I know no matter where I go, Konstantin Antonov will
have me put down like an animal. I am tired of running. Tired of hiding. If
you are going to kill me, I wish to face my death like a man. This life… It has
already taken the people dearest to me. I only stay out of obligation, but you
would know all about that, hm?”
Sensing no immediate threat, I decide to take the seat across from him at
the table. I set my gun down, a sign of a temporary truce.
“What are you waiting for?” Nicolai asks. “Are you trying to torment
me?”
I remain perfectly still. “No. I only wish to talk.”
“That’s a first. I’ve only ever known you Antonov fuckers to shoot first
and ask questions later.”
“I’m a different kind of Antonov.”
“Oh?” Nicolai squints at me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before. Are
you a new recruit?”
“No, an old one.”
“You make no sense.”
“Believe me, I don’t understand any of it, either.” I strum my fingers
against the table. “I’ll admit I was expecting far more resistance.”
“What’s the point?” he asks, defeated. “Either way I lose. Konstantin
already wants my head for moving in on his territory. If I kill you, he will
declare war. If you kill me, the Stokayevskis will also declare war. Either
way, I will end up dead in the crossfire.”
“You think it’s a war he wants?” I ask. “My uncle.”
Nicolai’s eyebrows shoot up. “I was unaware Konstantin had living
nephews. Rumors suggested he killed you all off.”
“I suppose in a way, he did.”
“Families,” he scoffs. “Can’t live with them, can’t live without them. It
gets tiring, no? Being someone else’s puppet.”
“I know all too well what you’re talking about. That’s why I want to
propose a deal.”
He eyes me suspiciously. “What kind of deal?”
“You and I… We are better than the old guard. People like your father,
my uncle… They have been in power for far too long. All they crave is
bloodshed. Think of all the things we could achieve if we actually worked
with one another.”
Nicolai sits forward, resting his elbows against the table. “I’m listening.”
“I don’t want to kill you,” I continue. “But Konstantin is holding some
very important people to me hostage. He ordered me to take you out, and he
wants proof.”
Nicolai sighs. “Let me guess. He wants a picture?”
“Video.”
“Harder to fake.”
“That’s what I said, but I have someone who can help.”
He stares me down, squinting suspiciously. “You are not Bratva. Not
really. No soldier would dare go against the orders from on high.”
“I’m a new kind of soldier, one with my own interests at heart. I can tell
just by this conversation that we have a lot more in common than you think.”
I lean forward against the table, too. “I harbor no ill will against you or the
Stokayevski Bratva. I don’t want a war, but clearly Konstantin does, and he’s
using me to start it. That makes him a mutual enemy.”
“And the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Nicolai says, as if reading
my thoughts. “What do I call you, friend?”
I reach across the small table and offer him my hand. “Mikhail Antonov,
Konstantin’s soon-to-be successor.”
Nicolai chuckles as we shake hands. “You’ve got balls. I like that. Now,
about that video evidence… How are we going to do it?”
“Let’s go outside. More space for me to work.”
By the time I return to my hotel in the core of Belgorod, I’m bone tired and
ready to call it a day. I all but fall into the room’s singular chair. It’s
uncomfortable. With a weary sigh, I set my gun aside. There are only
fourteen bullets remaining in the magazine. I move to boot up my laptop,
attaching the necessary wires to connect my phone to it. I get to work,
selecting the multitude of pictures Luka needs for our scheme to work
without a hitch.
I’ve got the images. Uploading them to the cloud now.
From all different angles, right?
Yes, just like you said. Is Dimitri’s contractor onboard?
Yep. Should have the video to you by the end of the day.
Pay him triple. I need it within the hour.
Deep fakes don’t work like that, Mikhail. You can’t rush the computer’s
rendering process. Not if you want it to look convincing.
I know what is and isn’t possible. Just do it.
My laptop pings, the soft alert telling me the image transfer has been
made. There’s a single video, too. I play it back, quietly impressed with my
work. It’s a brief clip, but it gets the point across. The camera is pointed at
the ground, my hand and gun just within frame. I fire once at the dirt, the
sound of the gun going off. Only I know Nicolai is behind me, safe and
sound. He begs for his life despite being out of harm’s way. His vocal
performance will be the cherry on top.
Now it’s just a matter of having my brother CGI a model of Nicolai into
the frame. You’d be surprised what you can fake these days with enough
information. Hopefully I’ve taken enough pictures of Nicolai’s head to
supply the computer enough data to make a convincing body double. Dimitri,
being Dimitri, has a whole slew of contacts within the film industry. That’s
just what happens when you’re in charge of the PR department at CyberFort.
He’s gotten to rub elbows with many leading producers, directors, and SFX
specialists. I never thought it would come in handy until now.
I sit back. It’s officially out of my hands now.
By the way.
What?
I think I got a message from Aurora.
I sit up, instantly alert. My heart thumps loudly against my ribcage.
Aurora? How is that possible?
She must have figured out a way to get to a computer. She sent a message
under her employee profile.
What did she say?
She wanted me to tell you she’s okay and she misses you.
For the first time in weeks, a smile stretches across my face. Such a clever
girl. I can’t wait to get back to her. The thought of holding her, kissing her,
being with her have served as fuel for me this past month. Getting back to
Aurora has been my only motivation. Knowing that she’s okay… It soothes
my nerves—but only just.
While I wait to hear back from Luka about the finished video, I think
about my new, cautious alliance with Nicolai. There’s always a chance he
could double cross me, but for now, our common goal of toppling Konstantin
makes that unlikely. He owes me. Still, I have to remain two steps ahead,
even if we’re now working together. If I catch so much as a whiff that he
might betray me, I’ll finish the job I was meant to complete.
I spend the next few minutes washing up in the bathroom. My hair’s
gotten longer in my time away, and my beard’s grown too full for my liking.
I’ll be returning to Moscow soon. I’d rather not look like a caveman.
My laptop dings again. I’ve got a new message from Luka, a video file
attached. My hand hovers over the mouse pad, the slightest of tremors
passing through me. I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous. I
really need this to look good. There are lives on the line.
I click play.
And smile.
CHAPTER 32
 AURORA

I shift uncomfortably in my dress. As pretty as it is, it’s far too form fitting.
It makes my little baby bump all the more apparent. I’m not self-
conscious or anything. The dress makes me feel like Audrey Hepburn in the
opening of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, it’s just not something I’d ever choose for
myself. The fact that I have to get all dolled up for a megalomaniac makes the
experience that much more unenjoyable.
Charlotte has been invited as well. Most likely so I’ll have company, but
something tells me it’s more than that. I wonder if it’s because Konstantin
doesn’t want to leave her alone at the compound. When I look around, I can’t
help but notice all the guards. Everyone is here. Security is tight. We’ve been
given the shortest of leashes, but I have no clue why. The heavy tension in
the air leaves my guts tied up in knots.
When we arrive at a fancy banquet venue downtown, I suddenly realize
why.
It’s a party, the most extravagant I’ve ever seen. Catherina wasn’t lying
when she said half of Moscow was invited. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so
many people. Compared to the wild performance art party I was roped into
serving at a few months ago, this is on a whole other level of extreme.
The wealthiest of the wealthy, the most powerful of the powerful—all
here under one roof. Their clothes tell me everything I need to know. High-
end tuxedos, lavish and sparkling gowns. The men wear fat gold rings on
their fingers, their women dripping in diamonds and pearls. I don’t need to
know their names, their histories… It’s written all over their faces, can be
seen in the way they walk.
This room is filled with Russia’s elite. Oligarchs, businessmen, the
entirety of the Antonov Bratva.
And they’re all staring at me.
Maybe it’s because I’m a new face, or perhaps it’s my vibrant red hair.
Even without the skintight dress, my natural features make me stand out like
a burning flame against everyone else’s paler complexions and dark hair.
“Stay close,” Catherina warns, walking ahead. “Try your best to avoid the
older men here.”
Charlotte frowns, clinging to my arm like a lifeline. She’s been forced
into a pretty dress, too, though nowhere near as flashy. “Why?” my best
friend bites out.
“They can be a bit… grabby.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, holding on tightly to Charlotte’s hand.
“Old-school, power-hungry despots? Who would have guessed?”
It’s almost fitting when I spot Konstantin. He stands at the front of the big
ballroom, dressed in a white tuxedo complete with black bowtie. He’s
surrounded by a small crowd of equally wealthy party guests, all of them
hanging off his every word. Konstantin stands with his chest puffed, his head
held up proud. If I didn’t know any better, I would have mistaken him for a
regal tsar against the backdrop of polished tile floors, golden arched
windows, and the large crystal chandeliers hanging overhead.
He notices us approaching, smiling wide with a jovial laugh. “Ah!
Welcome, welcome. I’m so glad you could make it.” Konstantin takes
Catherina’s hand and kisses the back of her knuckles like he’s some noble
knight. He certainly has the other party guests fooled, but I know better. He
approaches me next and tries for my hand.
I pull away. “Don’t.”
Konstantin wears an easy grin. “Now, now, Aurora. I thought you were
learning to behave yourself.”
“You’ve got another think coming if you think you can tame me.”
“Spoken like a true Bratva princess.”
I clench my teeth. “Don’t call me that.”
“Fine. But there’s no denying the child you’re carrying will be the next in
a long line of Antonov royalty.”
My hand flies down to cover my belly instinctively. Everything about
him—his lingering gaze to his honeyed words—makes me feel dirty. “What
are you doing?” I ask. “Bringing us here. Isn’t it safer for you to lock us
away?”
 Konstantin’s grin shrinks ever so slightly. He offers me his hand. “Come.
Let’s dance.”
“Fat chance that’s going to happen.”
“I’m not asking, Aurora.” I can hear the edge of a threat in his tone.
Konstantin grips my hand tight and leans in close to growl in my ear. “I
suggest you behave yourself. I’ve given you these privileges, but I can also
just as easily lock you in a dark basement for the rest of your days. Do you
understand?”
I try to swallow, but my tongue feels swollen and my throat is too tight.
It’s terrifying how his mood can turn on a dime. I nod once, my stomach
churning, as I allow him to guide me out to the center of the ballroom. The
string quartet set up in the corner plays an easy waltz, the sweeping music
filling the air. I’m more than a little aware of all the eyes on us.
Konstantin leads, moving in time with the music. He has an arm caged
around my waist, his grip on my hand so tight it’s painful. Through it all, he
smiles with a gentle ease that leaves my skin cold and clammy.
“Seriously,” I grumble under my breath as we move about the dance
floor. “What’s the point in bringing me out here?”
“I’m showing you off.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I need everyone to know.”
“To know?” I echo, the gears inside my skull grinding and smoking.
And then it hits me. The tight dress. His obsession with wanting an heir.
All these people—witnesses. This is his sick way of showing everyone the
Antonov line is far from over. It’s alive and well and not to be
underestimated.
“You’re a sick bastard,” I hiss.
“I’d be careful how you speak to me. You and your child officially have
targets on your back. This room may be full of my closest allies, but it’s only
a matter of time before my enemies learn of the baby.”
Goosebumps break out across my skin. I think I’m going to be sick all
over his shoes.
“Now the only one you can rely on to protect you is me,” he continues.
“Say goodbye to any thoughts you might have had about running away with
my little prince. My enemies can reach far and wide, and I’m sure they’d love
to get their hands on you.”
“But what about Mikhail? Why do you need my child, too?”
 “It’s called being prepared, sweetheart. In our line of work, there’s
nothing wrong with having a spare heir.”
I’m dizzy. All this spinning, all the overwhelming glitz and glam… I’m
drowning on dry land, and I have a feeling I’ll only sink faster if I try to call
out for help. I’m miles away from shore, miles away from home. And the
only person I can even think of running to for comfort isn’t even here. And as
I think of him, he appears as if I’d conjured him.
Mikhail.
He steps into the room through the wide doors. The people around him
part like the Red Sea, giving him a wide berth as he enters. He’s not dressed
for the occasion—wearing the same recycled outfit he wore the day he came
and went—but he’s still as handsome and breathtaking as ever. While
everyone stares at him, he only has eyes for me.
Without a word exchanged, we rush to one another, pulled together by
some invisible force. He wraps his arms around me, feeling so much like
home. I melt into him, doing my best to keep my composure. Mikhail greets
me with the most tender of kisses, our lips slotting together perfectly. It’s
been so long, too long. Our weeks apart felt like an eternity, but now I’m
suddenly whole and complete and safe.
“I missed you, too,” he murmurs against my lips.
My heart skips a beat. “You got my message?”
Mikhail gives me an almost imperceptible nod. “We have much to
discuss, but not here.”
“Right.”
“There he is!” Konstantin chortles, drawing everyone’s attention to us—
although everyone’s already pretty much staring. “The man of the hour.”
“Stay behind me,” Mikhail whispers in my ear before placing himself
between his uncle and me.
In a show of overt familiarity, Konstantin walks over and places his hands
on Mikhail’s shoulders, kissing him once on each cheek with a big smile.
“Welcome home, dear nephew. I take it all went well?”
With a disgruntled huff, Mikhail reaches into his pocket and pulls out his
phone. He all but slaps it into Konstantin’s open palm. “It’s done.”
A video is queued up on screen. Konstantin presses play. The volume is
low, but the unmistakable sound of a man whimpering, begging, pleading for
his life reaches my ear. It’s so desperate and heartbroken and chilling that it
sends goosebumps racing along my flesh. Just when I think it can’t get any
worse—
A gunshot rings out.
The hard thump of a body landing on the ground.
I know I shouldn’t look, but morbid curiosity gets the better of me. I lean
out from behind Mikhail and catch the last few seconds of the video playing
in Konstantin’s hand. There’s a dead man on screen, face bloodied and body
still.
A soft, terrified gasp escapes me. Dear God… Did Mikhail really kill
someone? Is this why he stepped in front of me, hoping I wouldn’t see what
he’d done? None of the other guests nearby seem even remotely disturbed,
which is troubling in and of itself. I’m in a room full of cold, unfeeling
killers.
And Mikhail, willingly or not, has just joined their ranks.
I’m definitely going to be sick.
Konstantin nods in approval, handing Mikhail his phone back. “Well
done, Misha.” He turns to address the entirety of the ballroom. “Ladies and
gentlemen, I have an announcement to make.” He waits for the last whispers
to cease. “I would like to propose a toast and welcome back my nephew, who
I heretofore consider my son and heir. Please give him and his darling a
warm round of applause.”
People clap and cheer and offer words of congratulations with such an air
of casualty that it makes me numb. Konstantin’s right. We have targets on
our backs now. All of Moscow’s elite know who we are. Even if we were to
run, if we were to try and escape, these people know our faces. Nowhere in
the world would we be safe. My hands and feet might not be bound, but I am
trapped.
“Isn’t he…” I hear someone to the side whisper.
“Isn’t he the CEO of CyberFort?” someone adds conspiratorially.
“I thought he looked familiar.”
“Damn, the Antonov’s are well-connected, aren’t they?”
“This could come in handy for us,” another person mutters.
I drown the chatter out. I just want to lie down, to curl up in a ball. The
only thing keeping me from keeling over is the firm press of Mikhail’s hand
on the small of my back. His eyes linger on my belly, a look of awe behind
his dark eyes.
Awe and terror.
“Is it…” he murmurs. “Mine?”
I nod. God help me. “Yes, it is.”
CHAPTER 33
 MIKHAIL

I don’t let Aurora out of my sight. Now that I know about the child, my
protective instinct is out of control. Leave it to Konstantin to keep me in
the dark about the pregnancy. It’s how he maintains control, keeping
everyone around him off-kilter until the last possible moment, ensuring their
dependence on him. Now Aurora and my baby are exposed and there’s no
going back, no hiding them away. Not after such a public confirmation to our
allies and our enemies.
“My boy,” Catherina says, walking over to grasp my face. “Welcome
back.”
An uneasy feeling boils in the pit of my stomach. For someone who’s
being held captive, she sure seems to be enjoying herself. I don’t even have
to look at her to know something’s off. It’s in the way Aurora holds my hand,
her fingers laced tightly between mine. She won’t even look Catherina in the
eye. My biggest tipoff is the fact that Aurora’s roommate is here.
Why would Konstantin go through the trouble of bringing Charlotte
along? It would have been easier to release her, or even kill her. I can’t
imagine there being a strategic reason for keeping Charlotte alive. She’s a
loose end, one that any sensible Bratva member wouldn’t trouble themselves
with. Someone must have interfered. Someone with sway.
And the only person I can think of is my mother.
I won’t pretend to understand her motivations, but her objective is
perfectly clear. She wants back in. After all these years spent banished,
Catherina looks as though she’s thriving. This life suits her like an old glove.
“With me,” I snap.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Konstantin asks with a chuckle.
 “Aurora isn’t feeling well. You’ve had her on her feet all evening. I’m
taking her to the bathroom.”
“And you need your mother to go with?”
“She knows more about motherhood than I do.”
Konstantin shrugs. “Very well. I know for a fact none of you are flight
risk. Just think of the dire consequences if you were. Do what you must and
enjoy the rest of the party. The second phase of your initiation starts
tomorrow.”
It takes every ounce of my willpower to not roll my eyes. Does he have to
lord his control and influence over us every minute of every day? I hold
Aurora’s hand while gripping Catherina by the upper arm with my other. We
shuffle toward the venue’s bathrooms. I lock us in a private powder room.
It’s surprisingly spacious, big enough for the three of us without having to
worry about any eavesdroppers. There’s a padded stool near one of the vanity
mirrors. I promptly help Aurora take a seat, still holding onto her hand. After
all the time I spent away, I’m not eager to let go of her any time soon.
“You told Konstantin where to find you,” I accuse, glaring at Catherina.
I’ve finally put two and two together.
My mother doesn’t even have the decency to try and act offended. “The
point is we’re all on the same page now,” she says. “We all want one thing,
and that’s Konstantin buried six feet underground.”
“You didn’t have to drag her into this.”
“I think you’ll find I did.”
“And what about the child?” I snap. “Did you ever stop for a moment to
realize the danger you were about to put your grandchild in?”
“I’ll admit her pregnancy surprised me, but it was an opportunity all the
same.”
“Yeah, to keep me compliant,” Aurora bites out bitterly.
The betrayal I feel cannot be described in words. I won’t lie and say I was
close to Catherina growing up. She was a mother in title only; there wasn’t a
caring bone in her body. She was always too hard, too cold and why I raised
my brothers myself. Someone had to be there for Dimitri, Pyotr, and Luka
because she never was. When we escaped to America, I was the one who
picked up the broken pieces of my family while she locked herself away. I
was the one who kept us going, made something of myself, tried to take care
of her even though she never returned the favor.
And this is how she repays me? By making a mess of my life, by
involving Aurora like some common pawn.
“I won’t forgive you for this,” I growl. I can barely form sentences over
the white-hot rage ripping through my veins. “You’ve gone too far.”
“Hate me all you want, Misha,” my mother whispers coldly. “Once this
business is concluded, you can toss me aside for all I care.”
I also lower my voice to a whisper. “Business? You mean killing
Konstantin?”
“Not just kill. Destroy. I want everything he has. His money, his territory,
his power, his life. I will not stop until I have torn him apart.”
“You’ve lost your damn mind.”
“Yes, I think I have. All the more reason for you to work with me and
stay on my good side. Wouldn’t you agree, Aurora?”
I glance down at her. She’s been silent throughout our conversation. I
can’t exactly blame her. I can feel her trembling beside me, but despite her
obvious fear, Aurora holds up her head and puts on a brave face. I admire her
strength in adversity. She’s not down for the count yet, the fire in her eyes not
yet extinguished. We know we’re trapped in an impossible situation, but
we’re not hopeless.
“We’re working on a plan,” Aurora says softly. “It’s crazy, but it just
might work.”
“Fill me in later,” I reply. “This isn’t the place.”
She nods in agreement. It would be foolish to discuss our game plan with
Konstantin just down the hall. Who knows who might be lurking around the
corner? Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if there are hidden mics and cameras all
over the place, watching our every move. Konstantin came to power during
the Cold War, after all. It’s very possible he picked up a few tricks from his
pals in the KGB. I’m grateful we whispered the conversation.
Catherina checks her appearance in the mirror before speaking. “Now, if
you don’t mind, I’m going to rejoin the party. Don’t hide in here too long.
Wouldn’t want that bastard thinking you’re conspiring against him.”
I’m so exhausted I have nothing to respond with. I want her to leave me
the fuck alone. I want Aurora to have a moment of peace. I can’t imagine
what the last few weeks have been like for her, Konstantin’s grip on her
practically a chokehold. The door finally shuts. Aurora and I are finally
alone.
I kneel before her, my hands placed gently on her knees. I tilt my chin up
to look at her, Aurora’s hair curtaining either side of her face. Her baby blues
peek out, the edges red from tears and exhaustion. She’s been holding it in
this whole time; her relief, her anguish, her terror.
“What took you so long?” she asks, a whimper. A tear streaks down her
cheek. “I was so scared. I was so—” She hiccups, wipes her nose. Her voice
comes out thin and small and broken. “I missed you so much, Mikhail. I was
so fucking worried. I thought I was never going to see you again!”
I wrap her in my arms, my heart twisting painfully in my chest. She cries
against the crook of my neck, clinging to me desperately, her fingers
practically clawing straight through my shirt and into my skin. Not because
she wants to hurt me, but she’s scared to let go. I know exactly how she feels.
Her fear is my fear. All I can do is press kisses to her hair, her temple, her
cheeks.
“I’m here, sweetheart,” I mutter against her skin. The familiar scent of
peaches fills my nose. Fuck, it feels so good to hold her again. It feels right,
complete, like I’ve finally found a missing part of my soul. “I’m sorry,
Aurora. For all of this.”
She shakes her head, wiping her eyes with the heels of her palm. “Please
tell me everything’s going to be alright. Please. I just need to hear you say it.”
“Everything’s going to be alright,” I assure her, gently caressing her
cheeks. “I’m going to protect you and the baby no matter what. I vow it.”
“Did you really kill that man?” she whispers.
I shake my head slightly, the movement almost imperceivable. “Camera
tricks, that’s all.”
Aurora takes a deep breath, sniffling softly as she takes my hand and
guides it to her belly. She presses my fingers to her bump. A wonderfully
warm haze fills me when I think about the life she’s carrying. Amidst this
world of violence and plots and backstabbing, this is something good.
“I wish I could have told you under better circumstances,” she says with a
weak laugh.
I lean forward and kiss her tenderly on the lips. “Either way, I’m over the
moon.”
“Really?”
I nod. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you through the first bit, but I’m
here now. Whatever you need, you just tell me, alright?”
“Kill Konstantin,” she whispers, so quietly I almost don’t catch it. It’s a
conspiracy just for the two of us.
I stare at her. I’ve never seen so much resolve. I know she’s afraid, but
we both understand there’s no way around it. If we want any chance of
getting out of this alive, Konstantin needs to die—and I must kill him with
my own hands.
“I’m working on it,” I promise. “But it can’t happen overnight. Not unless
we want his most loyal followers coming after us in retaliation. We’re going
to have to be patient and do this one step at a time.”
Aurora nods, just once. Her expression is harder, more difficult to read.
She’s starting to learn the value of stoicism. Nobody can tell what you’re
thinking if you give them nothing to work with.
“What do we do until then?” she asks.
“We play the roles he’s assigned. The heir and his woman. We’ll do as he
says, give him no reason to doubt us. It will give us time to move our chess
pieces into position.”
“How long do you think it’ll take?”
“A few weeks. A few months. A few years. It’s hard to say. We need this
to look gradual. Realistic. We can’t go out there and pretend he’s our favorite
person in the whole world. This is a long game, Aurora. If we’re going to
survive him, I need to know you’re ready for what might come.”
She places a hand on her belly, her brows furrowed in concern. “We’re in
this together?”
“Always, kisa. Always.”
CHAPTER 34
 AURORA

“M ore lemons!” Charlotte says to the guard, miming the shape of a

lemon with her hands. “Le-mons. Lemons? Come on, man. She’s
got cravings. Are you really going to keep a pregnant lady waiting?”
The guard posted at the door shifts uncomfortably. It’s obvious he doesn’t
speak English, but to be fair, Charlotte has made no effort to learn any
Russian.
We’re seated in the tearoom today, but we’re still confined to the east
wing when Mikhail is away. We’ve been served various fruity pastries, the
crumbs occasionally falling into the book I’ve been reading all afternoon.
Slowly but surely, we’ve been given a little more freedom as the days go
by. Charlotte is given her own room down the hall, but she spends most of
her time in mine, anyway. Catherina is… somewhere. Doing her own thing,
still tracking down the names of the Antonov Bratva accountants. Until I
have those, I can’t complete my end of the mission.
A part of me wonders if she’s stalling on purpose, too caught up in living
it up like the queen she pretends she is. I sometimes watch her through my
window getting into a car and drive off somewhere. It’s obvious Konstantin
trusts her more than me, but my time will come. I can already feel my leash
loosening.
We fall into a shaky, nervous, but necessary routine. Mikhail spends most
of the days away, summoned by his uncle to do God knows what. They never
discuss Bratva business in front of me or any of the other women in the
mansion, but it’s not like I want to know what villainous things Konstantin
gets up to in the course of a day anyway.
The number of guards assigned to me doesn’t change. There’s still six of
them in total, all their faces easily recognizable to me now, but something’s
shifted in my favor. They lack focus. Once on high alert because Konstantin
considered me a high value prisoner, my guards have now taken on a more
lax attitude. There’s a reason my days are so predictable. Boring. And
because it’s so boring, my guards are getting sloppy.
Which is perfectly fine by me.
“Limony,” I say in Russian. “For my ginger tea—diya moyego imbirnogo
chaya.” My accent is heavy, and the words don’t feel quite right in my
mouth, but it’s still undeniable progress.
The guard—I’ve learned his name is Alexi—seems to understand me,
because after a brief moment of contemplation he says, “Ya skoro vernus,”
which I’m pretty sure means I’ll be back.
Charlotte laughs as she sits down beside me. “You’re getting pretty good.
Has Mikhail been giving you some private lessons?”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating.”
“Oh, please. The walls are really thin. I haven’t gotten a good night’s
sleep since he got back. Do you think you could take a break from boinking
like bunnies for, like, one night?”
My ears burn. “We’re not that loud.”
Alexi returns with a small bowl of decently sized lemons. He sets it down
on the coffee table for me.
I smile politely. “Thank you. Spasibo.”
“Pozhaluysta.” You’re welcome. He smiles back. He’s one of the only
guards who treats me with some semblance of kindness. His dark brown hair
is cropped short, his face clean shaven. A handful of scars cover his face, a
few above his brow, one just above his lip where it must have been split
several years ago.
Alexi leaves and returns to his post at the door, facing away into the hall
to keep an eye out for danger—not that there is any. Things on the compound
have been nice and quiet lately, especially with Konstantin always away on
business. That’s honestly fine by me. The less he’s home, the more I can
prepare for the day of his downfall.
It’s difficult to cut the lemons in half when all I have to work with is a
butterknife, but the house staff won’t allow me anywhere near anything that
can be used as a weapon. I suppose if I tried hard enough, I could take
someone’s eye out with the butterknife, but I’m approaching four months
pregnant and would really rather not find out.
 While Alexi isn’t looking, I squeeze one of the lemon halves and catch
the juice in the bottom of my teacup. There’s nothing else inside, just the
acid. I dip the tip of my finger into the fluid and use it to write on one of the
blank back pages of my book.
“Where did you even learn to do that?” Charlotte asks me, keeping her
eyes on Alexi. If he so much as sneezes, she’ll tap me discretely with the tip
of her foot as a signal to stop. That’s how we make sure I don’t get caught.
She’s my lookout when I’m in the middle of my coding.
My visits to the doctor’s office aren’t as frequent anymore. A trip every
week is excessive, and the last thing we want is Konstantin asking too many
questions. I have to write my lines of code in the back of my books to be
transposed later. When the lemon juice dries, no one is the wiser.
“Read it in one of my mom’s old spy books. Very rudimentary stuff, but
it always stuck with me.”
“Boy, I’ll say.”
Outside, the crunch of tires rolling over the gritty pavement, quickly
followed by the sound of car doors opening and closing. My heart skips a
beat. The arrival of cars and the chatter of the guards’ voices over Alexi’s
radio can only mean one thing.
I shoot up out of my seat. Mikhail is home.
I’m usually not allowed to step foot outside the mansion entrance, but
today appears to be an exception. There are guards everywhere, so I’m not
exactly a threat to others or myself. I rush to Mikhail the moment I see him,
kissing him with a delighted giggle. He smells like home.
I’m crestfallen when I see his face. Every day, he’s been coming home
bruised and bloody. This has something to do with the second phase of his
initiation, I’m sure of it, but Mikhail refuses to tell me any of the details. All
he tells me is he’s training and it’s not a big deal.
I’m not blind, though. What kind of training leaves a man beaten and
dead on his feet every day? Nothing good. Nothing good at all.
“Welcome back!” I say, hugging him tight. “What took you so long?”
Mikhail chuckles. “I was only gone a few hours, kisa.”
“That was my fault, I’m afraid,” Konstantin says, stepping forward to
take my hand.
He stamps a light kiss to the back of my knuckles. It takes every ounce of
my strength not to cringe at his touch. I’ve gotten pretty good at pretending I
can tolerate him, even though I’m silently dying on the inside to punch
square across the jaw. Keeping up appearances is turning out to be harder
than I thought.
“How’s the little prince treating you today?” Konstantin asks me,
glancing down at my belly. He’s learned by now not to touch me there
anymore. Especially not with Mikhail hovering so close nearby. We’re being
friendly, but not that friendly.
“He was kicking up a storm this morning,” I admit with a tight smile. I
hope my expression is convincing. At least I’m not telling a lie. My little one
has started kicking at all hours of the day, a sign he or she is strong and
energetic.
“Shall we go in for a bite?” Konstantin asks. “It would be so lovely to
have a family meal together, no?”
I know by now it’s not actually a request, but a thinly veiled command. I
nod, smile as friendly as possible while keeping a protective hand over my
belly.
“That sounds wonderful,” I say.
Konstantin pats Mikhail on the shoulder. “Go wash up. I’ll have the chef
prepare dinner.”
Mikhail places his hand on the small of my back and guides me indoors. I
try not to stare at the bruises reddening his knuckles or the small cut just
above his left eyebrow and lip. He’s not wearing the same clothes he left in
this morning, but I’m not foolish enough to ask him about it when we’re out
in the open.
Once we return to our room and the doors finally close, I examine his
injuries. He sits down on the edge of our bed with a groan.
“What the hell is he doing to you?” I ask, a hushed and frantic whisper as
I carefully help Mikhail out of his shirt. I’m alarmed to find even more
bruises underneath, along with several sharp cuts across his chest and torso.
“It’s the second part of my initiation,” he grunts, his movements stiff and
face clenching in pain.
“Initiation involves putting you through a blender?”
“You know I can’t tell you, Aurora.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s—”
“Bratva business,” I interject. “I know, I know.”
Mikhail cups my face and pulls me in for a light kiss. “I’m fine,
sweetheart. I promise. It’s just a bit of training. To condition me.”
 I point at one of his cuts. “This is training?”
“In order to take over the Antonov Bratva one day, I need to be able to
defend myself. That’s what my uncle believes, anyway.”
“You’re not going to be able to take over if he beats you to death,” I point
out bitterly, hands on my hips.
“Don’t stress yourself out. It’s bad for you and the baby.” Mikhail spoils
me with a soft kiss on the tip of my nose.
Silently, he gestures to one of the many books I have piled high on my
bedside table. The newest one sits at the very top, the one with my latest
round of coding notes. I reach over and hand it to him. We both toss a
cautious glance over our shoulder towards the bedroom door before he cracks
the book open, turning to the seemingly blank pages in the back.
“Did you get much done today?” he asks.
“I did,” I say, my answer vague in case someone’s listening. “I got
through three whole books. I think your brothers might like some of these
stories,” I say. “Do you think we could ship a few copies to them? Luka
might be especially interested.”
Mikhail raises his brows. I can tell he’s picking up what I’m putting
down. Neither of us has reliable access to a computer, which means we can’t
make updates to my keylogger virus. It’s one of the many reasons I’ve started
writing everything down in lemon juice. The only people I know who can put
my program together for me, and who I know are completely on our side, are
on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. It’s a longshot, but if Dimitri, Pyotr,
and Luka can get my notes and execute the program for me, it’ll reduce the
risk of my being caught.
“I’ve finished them all,” I continue. “I think it might be nice to have your
brothers put together a collection back home. I know they’re big readers.”
Mikhail nods, giving my hand a light squeeze. “That might be nice,” he
says casually. “Let me see if we can ship a few books out tonight, though the
guards will have to check them, first.”
There’s a knock at the door. Konstantin steps in without waiting for us to
invite him inside. I shift my weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. I
wonder how much of our conversation he heard. Was he able to make sense
of my double speak?
“Dinner will be ready shortly,” he says in a light tone. If he is suspicious,
he gives no hint of it. “Catherina and Charlotte are already in the dining room
downstairs waiting for us.”
 Mikhail gets up, moving quickly to throw on a fresh shirt from the nearby
wardrobe. “Sorry to keep you. We’ll be right there.”
I stiffen when Konstantin glances at my books. I try to smile through my
nerves, helping smooth the wrinkles of Mikhail’s shirt once he’s slipped it
on. My throat tightens when Konstantin steps toward my bedside table to
examine my collection.
He picks a book up and flips through the pages.
I hold my breath.
Konstantin chuckles. “The guards tell me you’re quite the reader. I’ll be
sure to have them buy you some more books. Perhaps we’ll use one of the
spare rooms as your own private library, hm?”
I swallow. Smile. I’ve got my act together. “Very kind of you, thank
you.”
“Come,” he says. “I think you’ll like what’s on the menu tonight. Beef
stroganoff!”
I laugh lightly. It’s a convincing sound. Maybe in another life, I could
have been an actress. “Oh, how delicious.”

No offense to the chef, but the beef stroganoff is only okay. I sit at the dinner
table between Mikhail and Charlotte, doing my best to keep the food down.
Catherina sits next to Konstantin at the head of the table, chatting like old
friends. I can’t help but grind my teeth. I still can’t get over her hypocrisy.
Sometimes it’s hard to tell whose side she’s really on.
Beside me, Mikhail tries to take another bite of his food, only to wince
when he attempts to lift his right arm. His other hand flies to his ribs with a
low grunt.
I place my hand on his knee. “Are you okay?” I whisper.
Konstantin takes notice—because of course he does—practically a viper
waiting for any signs of movement in order to strike. “He’s quite fine,” he
says. “No need to worry. Right, Misha?”
“Right,” Mikhail grumbles.
“Oh,” Catherina says with a low hum. “Have you been throwing him into
The Pit?”
My ears burn. “The Pit?” I echo.
 It would make sense that Catherina knows more than I do. She’s been
exposed to Bratva life for far longer than I have. She’s probably familiar with
their initiation process, with their hierarchy and internal structure. It’s
strange, but I’m oddly jealous of all she knows. If only I had more
information, had more access to the resources around me, I’d be able to help
Mikhail more. I know he wants me to lie low and keep from getting too
involved, but it makes me feel genuinely useless. Apart from my code—
which I may or may not be able to activate in the first place—there’s nothing
else I can do except let the days pass and I fucking hate it.
“It’s nothing, Aurora,” Mikhail grumbles.
From across the way, Konstantin’s eyes darken. “Oh, no need to keep her
in the dark anymore. She’s family, is she not?”
“I would rather not burden her, uncle.”
“She’s been very well behaved,” Konstantin goes on. “I think it’s time we
show her the ropes.”
Beside me, Mikhail goes rigid. “Uncle—”
“She will join us tomorrow. She will join me in the rafters.”
“The Pit is no place for a woman,” Mikhail hisses. “Especially a woman
in her condition.”
Konstantin puts a hand up, a signal for Mikhail to stop arguing. “I’m
eager for her to see the progress you’ve made these last few weeks. You’re
up against the Bear tomorrow, are you not?”
Mikhail takes a deep breath. “I am.”
Konstantin takes a sip of his wine. “Excellent. I’m sure it will make for a
very entertaining afternoon. In fact, let’s all go.”
Charlotte shoots me an uncomfortable glance. Catherina looks downright
delighted, something maniacal behind her eyes.
“What fun,” she says before polishing off her wine.
CHAPTER 35
 MIKHAIL

D amn him.
Until now, I’ve been able to keep Aurora in the dark about Bratva
business. It’s for her benefit. The less she knows, the less scared she’ll be.
The less scarred. Yes, we’re in this together, but I’ve done my best to shield
her from the worst of it. Aurora is too good for this life, too innocent and
sweet. Her hands are mostly clean of this filthy underground world.
We call it The Pit because it quite literally is one. An old air hangar on
the outskirts of Moscow, deep within the Antonov territory. The hangar is
massive, once the home to a whole squadron of fighter pilots during the
Second World War. The planes have all since been decommissioned, their
parts stripped for scrap. What remains is the protective structure of the
building, its insides gutted almost completely.
The ground has been excavated, leaving nothing but a deep, foreboding
hole where the concrete floor used to be. A sturdy metal staircase has been
installed, jammed into the sides as it slowly descends into the pit. It gets
darker the farther you go, what little sunlight there is eventually replaced by
the sickening yellow glow of fluorescents.
Konstantin and his guards head down first, taking it a stair at a time. Deep
below, the impatient groans and wails of the prisoners he has detained create
a horror movie vibe. Catherina follows without hesitation. She doesn’t seem
disturbed in the slightest. Aurora and Charlotte, on the other hand, are as pale
as ghosts.
“They’re not, like, going to execute us or something, right?” Charlotte
mumbles, the undeniable quiver in her voice giving away her fear.
“You’re not the ones going into The Pit,” I tell them, keeping a firm hold
of Aurora’s hand. “No harm will come to you.”
She furrows her brows but says nothing. Aurora has on a brave face, but
the slight tremor in her fingers gives her away.
We descend. The air gets colder and colder the further we go down.
Eventually the thick dirt walls loom over us, foreboding and restrictive. I
have no doubt they’ve been reinforced, but the intrusive thought of them
collapsing in on themselves and burying us beneath the heavy rubble pops
into my head anyway.
The true horrors lie below.
A whole line of large cages is pressed against the far wall. Large solid
wood slats slip between the bars, creating narrow sections—cells for the
prisoners Konstantin has locked away. There is an observation deck with a
seating area, complete with small comforts one normally would take for
granted on a day-to-day basis. A space heater is tucked into the corner,
comfortable padded chairs, plenty of light, and—most importantly—armed
guards standing in the way to keep any would-be escapees from getting up
here.
The air is heavy with the stench of sweat and dirt and blood. Below the
observation deck is the undeniable structure of a square boxing ring. It’s
made of four wooden posts, a simple rope tied around it to create the fighting
arena. It’s easy enough to leave its confines, but the armed guards positioned
just outside the ring are a convincing reason not to leave without permission.
Aurora grasps the sleeve of my shirt. “Mikhail? Mikhail, what is this
place? Why are there people in cages?”
My mouth is dry. God, I wish I could rewind time so she doesn’t have to
witness what’s about to take place. I’ve tried so damn hard to protect her
from all this cruelty, from this reality. Just because I’ve been welcomed back
as Konstantin’s heir doesn’t mean I’m done proving my loyalty. It’s a never-
ending process, a constant cycle of taking orders and carrying them through
without question. Aurora and I both agreed we would do what we had to in
order to remove all doubt in his mind, and this is no exception.
“This is the Antonov way,” I mumble bitterly. “Those people… They’ve
crossed Konstantin in one way or another. They’ve stolen from him, refused
to pay up, betrayed him.”
Aurora’s bottom lip trembles. “What does this have to do with you? Do
you… kill these people?”
I cup her face, press her forehead to mine. Her breath tickles my cheeks.
“I teach them a lesson,” I whisper. “As Konstantin commands. Most of them
go free, but not before I show them what it means to cross us.”
“This is what you’ve been doing all this time?” she asks, aghast. “Why do
you have to do it?”
“Because he told me to.”
“Mikhail, this isn’t right!”
I hush her gently, making sure to place myself between her and
Konstantin’s line of sight. He’s already taking a seat, watching with a cool,
steely gaze.
“Every member of the Antonov Bratva goes through this phase of
initiation,” I tell her. “I take no pride in it, but it must be done.”
“Teach them a lesson how?” she asks, tears welling in her eyes.
“Konstantin lets them fight for their pardon. If they knock me down, their
transgressions are forgiven. If they don’t, they remain here until they do.”
“That’s sick.”
“I don’t disagree, kisa.”
“How many people have managed to knock you down?”
I grit my teeth. “None.”
Her eyes widen in shock. “Can’t you just let them win?”
“If I don’t give it my all, Konstantin will know. And if he does, that
means you—”
“What?” she demands. “What does this have to do with me?”
I suck in a sharp breath. God, I’m tired, but I can’t give up now. “He
made me a deal, Aurora. As long as I keep up my performance, he promises
to give you more and more privileges. The books, access to the east wing,
reducing the number of guards on your detail…”
Her mouth drops open. “I thought those were because of my good
behavior.”
“It’s a little bit of both,” I confess. “He’s fickle.”
My uncle clears his throat. “Come along, Misha. We have a lot of guests
to get through, and we only have so much time.”
“Go take a seat, sweetheart,” I murmur to her.
She shakes her head. “I can’t watch you do this.”
I press my lips to her ear. “This is a test, Aurora. For you as much as it is
for me.”
Aurora audible gulps. “You can’t be serious.”
“Whatever you do, don’t react. Don’t cry, don’t scream, don’t gasp. He’ll
be watching. He needs to know you’re cut out for the Bratva. Do you
understand? You must be brave.”
She nods shakily before giving me a quick, searing kiss. “For you,” she
promises.
Her bodyguard, Alexi, guides her to her seat. Once she’s settled, I turn
and head straight for the ring.
I’m more than aware of how brutal this is, how barbaric. However, I am
in no position to question the old traditions of the Bratva. Our people were
born from sweat and tears and blood. Our tenacity and viciousness are what
saw us through many crueler winters and even crueler governing bodies.
We’re an unforgiving bunch, or so they say—a brotherhood built upon the
shoulders of the unyielding.
The guards bring out the first offender. He’s roughly ten years younger
than me, tall and scrawny. My understanding is he was one of Konstantin’s
dealers. Whether it’s arms or drugs, I can’t be sure. My uncle didn’t get too
specific about the details. The point is this poor bastard made the
unforgivable mistake of skimming off the top. Now, as Konstantin’s iron
hand, I’m obligated to carry out his punishment.
“Please,” the man rasps in Russian, his hands up in defense. “It was a
mistake. I’ll never do it again.”
I roll up my sleeves and undo the first button of my shirt collar. I stretch
my neck from side to side. I don’t want to do this, not with Aurora here, but I
have no choice.
“Fight me,” I tell him. “Or you’ll spend another week in the hole. Is that
what you want?”
“Just beat me to death. Put me out of my misery.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Please,” he begs. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
From on high, Konstantin claps his hands. “Begin!” he shouts, his roar
echoing off the cold sides of the pit. It’s a game of survival now. Him or me.
For the sake of my child and my woman, it has to be him.
I rear back and swing.
My knuckles connect with his jaw, the harsh crack drowned out by the
sound of the roar of other prisoners. Some of them scream they want out,
while others cheer the fight on. Nothing they say makes any sense. Their time
trapped in the darkness has turned them into little more than animals. Some
are beaten and afraid, others can’t wait for the opportunity to sink their teeth
into me.
It’s not much of a fight. The man is already tired and weak from his stint
here on Konstantin’s orders. I genuinely pity him. He doesn’t even lay a hand
on me before a good hard kick to the gut sends him collapsing to the pit’s
floor. The guards haul him off and return him to his makeshift cell. He’ll get
another chance at redemption in a week’s time.
I know what Konstantin is trying to do. This is his way of hardening me,
forging me into the Bratva prince I was always supposed to be. Fight after
fight, I grow stronger…
And more indifferent.
I’m nothing but numb to it at this point. My body doesn’t feel the pain,
my brain blocks out the sounds and the smells and the noises that come with
all this violence. Maybe that was Konstantin’s plan all along. Not to break
me, but to desensitize me. This entire thing is a mind game to him, a
psychological tactic to rip me down piece by piece only to build me up again
in an image that suits him better.
I lose count of how many enter and leave the ring. A few of them get a
good couple of hits in, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I don’t dwell on their
faces, try not to think too hard about why they’re here in the first place or if
any of them will escape this hell. The sad fact of the matter is they’re not the
only ones suffering. I’m stuck in this hell with them.
And now my uncle is forcing Aurora to watch.
I’m keenly aware of her eyes on me. Every now and then, I manage to get
a glimpse of her. She’s doing a good job, keeping up her poker face with a
surprising amount of poise. I don’t think she’s made a peep. So far, she’s
passing Konstantin’s test with flying colors.
A prisoner’s mighty roar shakes the air. The guards struggle to keep him
in check. It takes a grand total of six of them to drag him to the ring. I can
just make out the silhouette of his form, my eyes straining against the dim
lighting. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was more of a monster than a
man. I’m by no means small, but this guy is practically twice my size and
triple my weight class.
Yaroslav Golubev. Also known by the entirety of the Russian criminal
underground as the Bear. His eyes are bloodshot. His wiry beard is caked
with dirt and grime. He’s practically frothing at the mouth, his knuckles
cracking as he clenches his hands into fists.
“You…” he hisses, sights set on me like a homing missile. “I’m going to
fucking kill you.”
I take a deep breath and raise my fists. My only options are to win…
Or die.
CHAPTER 36
 AURORA

I think I’m going to die.

Mikhail has done wonderfully so far, but I can tell by the way his
shoulders hunch and his breaths come in haggard puffs that he’s losing steam.
This is probably his ninth or tenth fight. It’s hard to tell. I lost count ages ago,
so nervous and jittery I’ve practically chewed my bottom lip raw.
“Call it off,” I beg Konstantin. He’s seated right next to me, having the
time of his life. “Please, Konstantin, don’t you think he’s had enough?”
Konstantin takes an unhurried sip of his mug of hot coffee. One of his
guards brought it down for him. He’s the Caesar here, and Mikhail and all the
prisoners entering the ring are just gladiators fighting for his entertainment.
All we’re missing is a servant fanning him with a fucking palm leaf and some
handmaiden to feed him grapes by hand.
My heart pounds so hard and fast I’m worried it will burst right out of my
chest. I can’t take this anymore. Every punch and kick Mikhail throws makes
me want to cry. Every punch and kick Mikhail takes makes me want to
scream. But I can’t. Not when I know this is all some sort of sick, wicked test
meant to torture me.
Even Catherina, who’s been living it up like she’s in the middle of her
golden era, has started to show signs of discomfort. I know she’s a cold
hearted, manipulative bitch, but I guess there are some lines even she can’t
cross—like watching her eldest son being beaten to a pulp, for instance.
She turns in her seat slightly to address Konstantin. “Perhaps she is right.
Can you not get a new fighter down there? One of your strongest guards
should do, don’t you agree?”
Konstantin cackles, watching Mikhail and the Bear circle the ring.
They’re both predators, dangerous and unpredictable. “But things are about
to get interesting,” he says with a grin. I’ve never been surer of his depravity
until this very moment. I’m convinced Konstantin doesn’t have a soul,
doesn’t understand the concept of morality or right and wrong.
Beside me, Charlotte gags. She’s been dry heaving this whole time,
barely able to keep down her lunch. I rub small circles against her back.
She’s been squeamish at the sight of blood ever since I can remember.
Mikhail himself isn’t in rough shape. He’s only sustained a couple of mild
cuts and bruises, but I have a feeling things are about to change.
The Bear charges. He’s a mass of muscle and bones and pure hatred.
Bloodthirsty. He’s shirtless despite the cold, his hulking figure covered from
head to toe in tattoos. There’s a spider inked onto his face, various words
spelled out in Cyrillic on his arms, and an illustration of a knife across his
throat like he’s daring his enemies to try and slit him open.
The fight drags on. Mikhail is an adept fighter, quick on his feet, but even
at this distance, I can tell he’s losing steam. He’s putting up a good effort, but
his jabs come slower, and his dodges are sloppier. His opponent shows no
signs of stopping. The Bear gnashes his teeth, fights dirty in ways that makes
my stomach lurch. He scratches and bites and attempts to claw Mikhail’s
eyes out more than once. With a well-placed punch to the side of the head,
the Bear knocks Mikhail down—
And climbs on top of him.
Mikhail struggles as the Bear wraps his meaty hands around his throat,
squeezing so hard I swear to God I hear Mikhail’s windpipe snap. Maybe it’s
the sound of my own throat closing up, my poor lungs collapsing in on
themselves as I watch this horror unfold. Mikhail fights back—kicks,
punches, spits—but all to no avail. At this rate, he’s going to end up dead.
“Call the fight off!” I hiss at Konstantin. “Now.”
Konstantin rises slowly, stepping toward the edge of the observation
deck. There’s a railing in place to keep anyone from falling off. He leans
against it, watching with glee.
“He’s not finished yet.”
A bitter taste coats my tongue. Blood. I’ve been biting my bottom lip so
hard I’ve broken skin. “Not finished yet? Mikhail is going to die if you don’t
stop the fight! What kind of sick justice are you trying to uphold, anyway?”
“My justice, dear girl,” he says flatly, coldly. He doesn’t sound human.
“My word is law here, don’t you understand? And those who disobey me
must be punished.”
“But Mikhail didn’t do anything! Why won’t you help him?”
Konstantin clicks his tongue. “You honestly thought I wouldn’t notice?”
“What?”
He gestures to one of his guards just off to the side. They step forward,
producing something from a bag. A book.
One of my books.
Konstantin flips to the back page and pulls out his cigarette lighter. He
flicks it, the flame sparking to life. Holding the fire a few inches away from
the page, the heat activates the lemon juice I’d been using as ink. It happens
quickly, the chemical reaction exposing the lines upon lines of codes I
thought I so cleverly had hidden away.
“I don’t care if you’re pregnant,” Konstantin says. “Nobody needs that
much lemon delivered for their tea.”
I’m gutted. Floored. My body is stiff and cold and reeling. This is it.
We’ve been caught. All our hard work, all these weeks spent trying to
appease Konstantin has gone down the drain. I don’t have time to wonder if
he’s known this entire time. I can’t worry about any of it right now. Not when
Mikhail is starting to go blue in the face.
“Please,” I gasp. “Please, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Don’t hurt Misha, I
beg of you.”
Konstantin sighs in disappointment. Like I’m the one wronging him.
“And I was beginning to think of Mikhail as my son. Oh, well. I guess I can
always try again with one of my other nephews.”
At this, Catherina rises from her seat. “That wasn’t part of the deal,
Konstantin.”
He tosses my book over the railing. It lands with a hard thud on the pit
floor, pages scattering about like leaves. “I’ll have my people bring your
second eldest. Dimitri, right? Or perhaps Pyotr. Either one will do. Hopefully
they’ll be more… pliant.”
Down below, Mikhail has stopped moving. He isn’t dead yet—his eyes
are still open, draining of light fast—but he will be soon. I need to do
something. Anything. There’s no time to come up with a plan, no time to
think about the consequences. We’re all dead, anyways. I have nothing left to
lose.
My body reacts before my brain does. I step forward and shove
Konstantin over the railing.
 Several things happen all at once. A few of his most loyal guards draw
their weapons and start firing. A few others, however, start firing at them.
I’ve slowly been replacing the guards on the compound with men loyal to
me.
These are Catherina’s men. We’re not totally outnumbered, after all.
Konstantin screams as he falls. He lands with a harsh thud. He groans.
Not dead, unfortunately, but I’m hoping he’s too injured to come after us
right away. Upon seeing his crumpled body, the Bear releases Mikhail, who
sucks in a sharp breath of life-saving air. Mikhail coughs and sputters, rolling
to the side as the Bear sets his eyes on a new target, his real enemy.
“Stay back!” Konstantin shouts.
“Aurora!” Catherina screams at me. “We have to get Mikhail out of
here!”
I’m already racing down the last few flights of stairs to get to him. It
smells even worse down here, sour with sweat and bitter with blood. I breathe
through my mouth, rushing over to him. Grasping onto his arm, I struggle to
help him stand.
“Get out of here, Aurora!”
“Not without you!”
The rattle of gunfire sends my mind into a spiral. We have to get out. I
refuse to die here in this pit. We’ve fought too hard, struggled for so long.
I’m not going to let anything happen to my child or Mikhail. No matter how
much my muscles scream and my lungs burn and the coil in the bottom of my
stomach threatens to drag me under, I can’t give up.
I throw one of Mikhail’s arms over my shoulder and help him up the
stairs. It’s chaos. I can’t tell which guards are on our side and which ones
want to kill us. Catherina and Charlotte are ahead of us, screaming at us to
hurry. My ears ring, my heart pounding too loudly to hear anything else.
Just when I think we’ve climbed far enough to start and see daylight,
someone grabs me roughly by the hair and yanks me back. I scream,
tumbling back a few steps. I luckily manage to catch myself, but not before
the hard edge of one of the stairs slams right into the side of my ribs. Pain
lances through me, so sudden and overwhelming it knocks the breath from
my lungs. I look up in a panic, struggling to see who the hell has me in their
clutches.
The Bear.
“Where do you think you’re going, pretty lady?” he seethes. Red stains
his chest. I can’t tell if it’s his blood or someone else’s.
My scream gets caught in my throat. The Bear grabs me by the ankle, his
grip so imposing that no matter how hard I kick and squirm, he refuses to let
go.
“Aurora!” Mikhail roars, moving to come to my rescue.
Before he can, a gunshot screams through the air.
Blood splatters my face.
“Aurora?” Mikhail rasps, grabbing me by the shoulders. “Fuck, Aurora,
talk to me!”
I can’t. My brain is blank. In front of me, the Bear slumps forward, dead.
Behind him, stands a man with the smoking gun.
“Alexi?” I whimper.
My bodyguard stands on one of the lower steps, quickly sprinting forth to
help Mikhail and me the rest of the way up.
“Calling it kind of close, Alexi,” Mikhail grumbles.
“Less talk,” the guard barks. “Let’s focus on getting out of here first.”
It’s a mad dash to the top, Konstantin’s men not too far behind, the
barrage of gunfire between the two groups nearly nonstop. I’m not sure if
Konstantin is still alive, but I really don’t want to stick around to find out.
When we finally make it to the top of the stairs, I almost burst into a fit of
tears. A car is waiting, a black cargo van with its sliding door wide open for
us. Hanging out of the passenger side window is a familiar face, one I haven’t
seen in months but am nonetheless relieved to see.
“Hurry the fuck up!” Dimitri shouts, slapping his hand on the outside of
his door.
Catherina, Charlotte, Mikhail, Alexi, and I all jump in. It’s cramped, but
I’d take having no elbow room over being dead any day. Luka who slams the
door shut. Pyotr is the one who’s behind the wheel. He doesn’t even bother
waiting before he slams on the gas. We peel away in a hurry, tires screeching
as we make our hasty exit.
“What the hell are you guys doing here?” I snap.
Luka scoffs. “Nice to see you too, Foster.”
“Mother brought us here,” Pyotr explains as he merges recklessly into
traffic. I’m starting to realize their shitty driving skills definitely run in the
family.
I frown, glaring at the woman. “What? I thought—”
She rolls her eyes, holding onto one of the roof-mounted handles for
stability. “Did you really think I was spending all this time getting my nails
done?”
“I mean, can you blame me? You were living the high life over here.”
“I was playing the part,” she argues. “I’ve spent the last few weeks
smuggling my sons into Russia. Konstantin has eyes on all the major airports.
I couldn’t very well go around broadcasting my plans, now could I?”
I look at Alexi. “And what about you? How do you and Mikhail know
each other?”
Mikhail takes a deep breath, grunting as he settles into his spot beside me.
“He’s one of Nicolai’s men.” He wraps a protective arm over my shoulder.
“Nicolai Stokayevski. I was supposed to kill him for my first phase of
initiation.”
Alexi rubs his jaw. “Konstantin believed the deep fake video of my boss’
execution.”
“You’re welcome,” Luka grumbles from his corner in the back of the van.
“Konstantin never once realized I was working with Nicolai before taking
the job with him.”
My brain short circuits. I can’t keep up with everything that’s happening.
“Why would you agree to work as my guard?”
“To keep track of Konstantin’s comings and goings, report to Nicolai” he
explains. “So we could better prepare for an all-out attack. Those were some
of my comrades down there, protecting us in the pit.”
I look at Mikhail. “Why didn’t you tell me all this earlier?”
“I wanted to, Aurora, but there was never a good enough time. Besides,
Alexi confirmed my suspicions. Konstantin’s entire mansion was bugged. We
never would have been able to plan openly. I couldn’t make a move against
him until I was sure I could get all of you out at the same time.”
I breathe in and out slowly, my heart rate slowing. “So what do we do
now? Are we going back to New York?”
Catherina shakes her head. “He’d only hunt us down. But now we have
our forces in place here. With the Stokayevskis as our allies and my sons at
the helm, we stand a good chance of taking Konstantin out once and for all.”
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a slip of paper before handing it to
me. It’s a list of names.
“The accountants?” I ask, my mouth dropping open in surprise. “You
found them all?”
“We won’t be able to go back to the mansion for your codes,” Mikhail
says, sucking in a deep breath. “But do you think you and Luka can put
together that program to hack into their systems?”
I nod, excitement thrumming through me. “Yes. Absolutely.”
“Then it’s a war on three fronts,” Dimitri says sagely from the passenger
seat. “Aurora and Luka will go after Konstantin’s money and cut him off, all
while he has to fight our father’s old loyalists and the Stokayevski.”
Pyotr huffs. “Our dear uncle won’t stand a chance.”
For the first time in ages, hope blooms in my chest. The tides have finally
turned, the wind now backing our sails. We might stand a chance after all.
Maybe one day soon, we’ll all be able to go home and wake up from this
awful nightmare.
“Isn’t this great, Cee?” I ask at the end of a breath laugh. “Things are
finally looking up.”
Charlotte doesn’t respond. Now that I think about it, she’s been
uncharacteristically quiet the entire time. I turn my head to get a good look at
her. Something isn’t right. She’s seated in the back of the van, her knees
tucked up to her chest. My best friend’s head hangs low, her skin
frighteningly pale.
“Cee?” I call out to her. A chill snakes down my spine. “Charlotte?”
The van jostles over a pretty nasty bump. The momentum causes
Charlotte to fall to the side, her shoulder crashing to the van floor. I see it—
the bullet wound she’s taken to the upper stomach. Her shirt is soaked
through. Dread claws through me. Was she bleeding this entire time?
I crawl over to her in a hurry, choking on my sobs. I pull her toward me,
cradling her limp body in my arms. I shake her gently as my soul tears itself
to pieces. “Charlotte, come on. Come on, wake up.”
Her skin is cold. She’s hardly breathing. Something inside me breaks. I
don’t want to be here. Why did things have to turn out this way?
“Pyotr!” I scream. “Pyotr, you have to take us to a hospital right fucking
now!”
“Aurora,” Mikhail says gently. “We can’t risk that.”
“No! We need to get her help!”
“Nicolai can help us when we stop.”
I hold Charlotte’s limp body and pray for a miracle.
CHAPTER 37
 AURORA

P yotr drives until Moscow is nothing but a small dot on the horizon. I
don’t know where we’re going, and at this point, I quite frankly don’t
care. My chest is hollow. My eyes are dry and itchy. I don’t know if I have
the energy to feel sad anymore. I’m numb from head to toe, exhausted and so
fucking done.
Eventually we stop in the Russian countryside. Alexi gets out of the
vehicle first, followed by Catherina, then the Antonov brothers. Mikhail
remains behind with me for a few moments, his gaze dark with sympathy.
Charlotte’s head rests in my lap, her eyes closed. I’ve been mindlessly
stroking my fingers through her hair, struggling to figure out how this
happened.
Did a stray bullet hit her? Why didn’t she say anything? Could the
adrenaline and the shock of our escape have kept her from feeling any of the
pain? What could I have done differently?
“Aurora.”
Mikhail speaks gently. So gently. It breaks my heart.
He gently takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. Both our hands
are dirty with blood and dirt and nasty scrapes of our own. We’ve really been
through the ringer.
“This is Konstantin’s fault,” he says sternly. “And he will pay.”
He brings my hand up and kisses my knuckles. The air is still, but I can
still hear the echoes of gunfire. Mikhail’s right. It is Konstantin’s fault. And
if he didn’t have the courtesy to die in that pit, then I won’t allow myself a
moment’s rest until he pays. Until all of us are avenged. He’s taken so much
from us—our time, our freedom, our sense of safety. I was hollow before,
numb.
Now I’m fucking angry.
“Let’s go, kisa. They’re waiting for us.”
We step out and Nicolai’s men rush forward into the van. Two of them
come out carrying Charlotte. She’s barely alive but still holding on. Nicolai is
standing to the side, watching. I recognize him from the video of his ‘death’.
“Don’t worry, Aurora, we will take care of your friend,” Nicolai
promises.
“Please. I can’t lose her.”
“We will do our best,” Alexi promises me. He climbs into the vehicle
with Charlotte and speeds off into the distance.
“I promise to keep you posted,” Nicolai says before stepping away for a
moment.
Mikhail brushes my hair away from my face, crouching between me and
the door of the car. He looks me over with great care, his brows furrowed
together.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Checking on you. Are you hurt?”
I laugh bitterly. “Checking on me? I think you should worry about
yourself first.” I reach out and gently brush the tips of my fingers over his
face. He’s bruised all over, his right eye almost swollen shut. “My poor
Misha. Look what they’ve done to you.”
“I hope I’m not too rough to look at,” he teases lightly. His heart isn’t
really in it. Mine either.
“Don’t worry,” I murmur. “I think you’re still very handsome.”
“Thank God. I’d hate to give you another reason to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you, Mikhail.”
His eyes flit down to my belly, his hands lowering to carefully caress my
bump. “I’ve done nothing but make your life miserable. Sometimes I
think…”
“What?”
“I should have stayed away. The first night we met, I should have left and
never looked back. But I couldn’t do it. The moment I laid eyes on you, I
knew I wanted you to be mine—and because of my selfishness, this
happened.”
I cup his face. “Stop it, Mikhail.”
“You would be safe at home if it weren’t for me. If I hadn’t dragged you
into all this. I regret—”
I cut him off with a deep kiss, practically starving for the taste of his lips.
“I knew I wanted you to be mine the second I saw you, too,” I murmur softly
against his lips. “You and me… I think we were meant to find each other. So
don’t you dare blame yourself, Misha. I don’t regret a damn thing. If I had
the chance to do everything over, I’d choose you every single time.”
“Aurora…”
“I love you, Mikhail.” My heart feels so full I’m convinced it’s going to
burst. Apparently, near-death experiences help make for ripe confessions. “I
love you and I’m glad I met you, so don’t you dare tell me you regret—”
It’s his turn to cut me off, his kiss tender and sweet. “I love you, too.”
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hug him as tight as I dare, very
aware and mindful of his injuries. Mikhail doesn’t seem to mind, however.
He circles my waist and holds me close, one hand running through my hair.
My heart is happy and broken and elated and distressed. The only reason I
know I can keep going is because he’s here and he’s mine. We’re going to
get through this together, no ifs, ands, or buts.
“Aww,” Dimitri coos just off to the side. “You guys are so cute.”
“Barf,” Luka mumbles, his arms crossed.
Pyotr at least has the decency to say nothing.
“What happens from here?” I ask the brothers.
“Nicolai has offered us a place to stay,” Mikhail says.
“And we can trust him?” Catherina interjects as she steps forward, the
gravel road crunching beneath the soles of her shoes.
“He owes me. He owes all of us. If it wasn’t for our connections at
CyberFort and Luka’s quick programming, he’d have a bullet in his head.
Nicolai owes us his life. He’ll do right by us.”
Catherina clicks her tongue. “You’re far too trusting, Misha. What if he
betrays us once our beef with Konstantin is over?”
“He won’t.”
“There will be a power vacuum once he’s dead,” she goes on, her tone
grave. “It will be chaos. A bloodbath.”
Mikhail sets his jaw. “Not if I take over.”
My mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”
Dimitri, Pyotr, and Luka all look as concerned as I feel. Mikhail sets his
jaw, his eyes dark with deep contemplation.
“Catherina is right. Right now, Konstantin’s reign over Moscow has kept
some semblance of peace.”
“But he’s—”
“A power-hungry lunatic, I know. But if—when—we kill him, it’s only a
matter of time before the other Bratva families crawl out of the woodwork to
try and claim his territories, his businesses. It’s not just Bratva who are going
to be caught up in the turmoil. There will be civilians, too, those who are
caught in the crossfire. But if I can oversee the transition of power…”
“You’d be able to keep people from getting hurt.”
“What about the company?” Dimitri asks.
“It will fall to you.”
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Pyotr adds. “This life… It wasn’t
meant for us. We left for a reason.”
“And that reason was Konstantin. Once he’s out of the picture…”
Mikhail looks to me, holding my gaze. “But I want your blessing, Aurora.”
“Me?”
“I’ve seen the way he carries out his punishments, his orders. Catherina is
right. There will be a power vacuum. Crime will never go away. I could make
some real changes. I could ensure prosperity and uphold the peace in ways
Konstantin never could.”
“A lesser of two evils,” I mumble aloud.
Mikhail nods slowly. “But only if you’ll be by my side, Aurora. I won’t
do this without you. I need you and the little one with me.”
I shift in my seat, not because I’m uncomfortable, but because what he’s
saying makes a surprising amount of sense. I need to be with him, too. I want
our family to grow and be together always. But at what cost?
My thoughts return to The Pit. All those prisoners… I think about
Charlotte. Mikhail is right. Crime will never go away. There’s always
someone more evil, someone crueler to take their place. But if we can
maintain the status quo, improve on it…
I’ll admit I’m out of my element here, but I do know that where Mikhail
goes, I go. He’s my lighthouse amidst stormy seas, my north star in the
darkest of nights. I don’t care what path I find myself going down so long as
it’s with him.
The next kiss I give him is an unspoken promise. We’re in this together,
come hell or high water.
“I’m with you,” I whisper.
Nicolai clears his throat behind us.
 “Whenever you’re ready.”
I suck in a deep breath. Ready? I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for what’s
coming next, but there’s no point in putting it off.
CHAPTER 38
 MIKHAIL

“Y ou’ll find everything you need here,” Nicolai says as he shows us

into the apartment. “My father owns the entire block. Your family
will have free reign of this building. Should you need anything, don’t hesitate
to ask.”
I shake his hand. “You’re a good man, Nicolai. I can’t thank you
enough.”
“No thanks needed.” He glances in Aurora’s direction as she explores the
living room area of the apartment. “I have little ones of my own,” he says
quietly under his breath. “If you hadn’t spared me from Konstantin…”
“We will take him down. Now that all the pieces are in place, we stand a
better chance together.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I’ll let the two of you rest. We’ll reconvene once
we have more information about Konstantin’s whereabouts.”
Aurora turns, her brows arching. “You mean you don’t know where he
is?”
“My contacts within the police department say his body wasn’t found
amongst the carnage.”
“Which means we assume he’s alive and gone into hiding,” I say. “We’re
going to have to smoke him out, but that’s a problem for tomorrow, kisa.”
“Right, right,” she says tiredly.
With one final nod from Nicolai, he turns and leaves. My brothers and
mother have their own private apartments just down the hall. The complex
itself is run-of-the-mill, but at this point, I’m so weary I’d happily sleep in a
cardboard box if it was offered to me.
I go to her, a moth to a flame. I gingerly take her hand and kiss her
fingers, press a kiss to her palm, the inside of her wrist. “Tell me what you’re
thinking, my love.”
She sighs. “I… want to take a bath.”
I chuckle lightly. “I can draw you one.”
“Join me?”
How could I possibly say no?
We enter the bathroom together. The room itself is small, but the bathtub
is generously large, probably big enough for the two of us. I plug the drain
and let the water run—piping hot—before giving Aurora all my attention.
I undress her with the utmost care, slowly allowing my hands to roam
over her body. I help her out of her shirt first, lifting it over her head. When
the tip of her nose pokes out beneath the hem, I give her a kiss. I move onto
her pants next, gleefully grazing the small bump of her belly with the tips of
my fingers. The fabric pools at her feet. Now all that’s left is her underwear.
She stops me from proceeding, instead choosing to guide me to the edge
of the tub to take a seat. Aurora steps into my space, standing between my
legs as she dips down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. She undoes the
buttons of my shirt one and a time, not at all deterred by the dirt and dried
blood staining my chest and collar. Once my shirt is open, she helps me slip it
off. I’m frankly grateful for the help; my muscles are too sore, my joints too
stiff to do it on my own.
Her lips press into a thin line when she sees my body. Bruises mar every
inch of my skin. Some are a light pink and hardly serious. Others are a deep,
anguished purple, the skin too tender to touch.
“We should have asked Nicolai for some ice packs,” she says. “Or some
ibuprofen.”
“I’ll be fine, my love.”
Her smile is tired, but very much real. The corners of her eyes crinkle as
it grows wider. “Say that again.”
“My love,” I repeat slowly, reaching up to caress her cheek.
“Again.”
I reflect her smile, the warmth in my chest mixing with the warmth of the
steam now filling the bathroom. “Hello, my love.”
“And how do you say that in Russian?”
“Moya lyubov.”
I hum contentedly when she combs her fingers through my hair. “I feel
like I should call you something, too.”
 “Like what?”
“Like… Handsome? My darling. Sweetie? Honey bun?”
I laugh for the first time in forever. A real, hearty laugh. “Darling has a
nice ring to it.”
She kisses my cheeks, the tip of my nose. “Hello, darling.”
My heart sings at the sound, her sweet voice washing over me like a
lullaby. The bath is just about ready, so I continue my work, carefully
removing her bra and undies with the utmost care. She’s too precious to me,
requires my diligence and cautious handling. I want to keep Aurora safe—
from Konstantin, from the world. I’d die a happy man as long as she and our
little one are well looked after.
I help her into the water first, holding her hand tight as she sinks below
the water’s surface. I shimmy out of my pants and join her not long after,
taking a seat behind her so Aurora can lean carefully against my chest. The
heat of the water soaks into my skin, my muscles. We both let out a sigh, at
ease.
And there we remain for a good twenty, thirty minutes. Maybe an hour.
Who knows? Aurora and I both know we’re not out of complete danger yet,
but at least it’s no longer imminent. I can hold her for as long as I want to
without worrying my uncle will pop up out of nowhere to throw me back
down into The Pit. I don’t have to worry about Aurora being alone in that big
mansion, away from me where I can’t protect her.
She allows her head to tilt back against my shoulder, the ends of her hair
soaking wet. The heat gives her skin a lovely pink glow. Her body is so soft
and smooth. I cup water in my hands just to pour it over her shoulders,
reveling in the simple sight of water droplets rolling over her curves.
These quiet pleasures help me understand my place in the world. What
good is running a company if she isn’t there to share in my accomplishments?
What good is being the head of the Antonov Bratva if I can’t have her by my
side? I think I’d still be happy even if we were dirt poor, barely getting by,
with nothing to our names, as long as I get to call Aurora mine.
I slip my hand beneath the water’s surface, stroking the peaks of her
breasts, the slight bump of her belly, the expanse of her inner thighs. Aurora
moans softly, parting her legs to give me better access. I tease her folds,
drawing small, lazy circles against her.
“Misha…”
“Feel good, moya lyubov?”
 Aurora half-laughs, half-sighs. “Yeah. Just like that, darling. Feels really
good.”
I press a kiss to her temple. “Relax. Let me take care of you.”
Her body trembles with pleasure as I tease her clit some more, her folds
slick with arousal even under our bath water. I adore the flush of her cheeks,
the way her lips part for every soft moan. Seeing her like this is addicting,
better than alcohol, drugs, and power. Aurora tilts her head to the side,
kissing me languidly as I continue my work. I can tell she’s getting close, her
breaths coming in tight pants and her moans growing higher and more
desperate with each brush of my fingers.
She shatters, her release leaving her breathless and writhing against me. I
claim her lips for my own, adoring the way she smiles into it. Slowly, Aurora
turns and kneels between my open legs, sliding her hand down my chest
towards my cock. I’ve hardly noticed how hard I am because I’ve been so
intent on her pleasure.
“Your turn,” she purrs as she wraps her long fingers around my shaft.
She strokes slowly, peppering my face with light kisses as she works up a
steady rhythm. A tight coil of heat begins to build deep within my core, her
hand giving me just the right amount of friction. Aurora drags her teeth along
my bottom lip, pulling a growl from my chest.
“Dammit, woman, you drive me crazy.”
“I take it as a compliment.”
“I’m not going to last long if you keep up.”
“That’s kind of the point, darling.”
“Get on top,” I say gruffly. “I need to be inside you.”
With a devilish grin, Aurora climbs onto my lap, straddling me between
her thighs. She sinks slowly onto my cock, inch by careful inch, her knees
trembling as she splits herself open. Aurora has her hands on my shoulders
for stability, our lips sealed together in a kiss. With my hands on either side
of her waist, I help her move, our bodies rocking together in pursuit of shared
pleasure.
“That’s it, moya lyubov,” I groan. “Just like that.”
“God, you make me feel so full,” she whimpers against my lips. “I love
you, Mikhail.”
“I love you, too. So fucking much.”
Bliss finds us, brilliant and bright. We hold onto each other tight as we
ride our high, the rest of the world fading into the background. Nothing else
matters except her and me and this quiet moment. I would gladly give my life
if it meant I could give a million years of this peace.
The water is starting to get cold, but we remain there all the same,
listening to our even breaths and the slow drip of the bathtub faucet. As much
as I like to pretend I can handle everything, I honestly don’t know what our
futures have in store for us. We might have been able to escape Konstantin
this time, but if he survived what happened at The Pit, we have no choice but
to prepare for an all-out war.
Things are going to get even more dangerous. We’ve managed to break
out of our cage, but he’s going to hunt us down like dogs, just like he did all
those years ago. I’ve never wanted to kill a man, but it might be the only way
to stop my uncle once and for all. Aurora and our baby will never be safe
until I put a bullet between his eyes. He’ll come after us, again and again and
again. If I don’t put a permanent end to him, we will never be free of this
nightmare.
But can I do it? I’m not the kind of man who allows himself to be
paralyzed by doubt, but that was in the world of business. I could make
decisions on the turn of a dime, organize teams of people with succinct
orders. It came naturally to me. But this is entirely different. As cutthroat as I
am, I’m not a murderer. When the time comes, will I be able to go through
with it?
As if reading my mind, Aurora pulls back to look me in the eye. She
combs her fingers through my hair, the gentle scrape of her nails on my scalp
sending a delightful shiver racing through my body.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispers.
I nod, though I’m not sure if I believe her. “If anything happens to me—”
“It won’t.”
“Aurora,” I say sternly.
“It won’t. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
I cup her face in my hands. “Listen to me, moya lyubov. If something
happens to me, I have arranged for Nicolai to help you get out of the country.
He will help you set up an entirely new identity. Fake passports, fake
backstory. You can go anywhere in the world, someplace safe.”
Aurora furrows her brows. “I’d rather die.”
“For the sake of our child, you’d better not.” I kiss her tenderly as I wipe
her eyes dry. My poor girl is trembling. “No matter what happens, promise
me you’ll be safe. That you won’t do anything reckless. Promise me.”
She chews on the inside of her cheek and takes a deep breath.
“I promise.”
CHAPTER 39
 AURORA

W e’re gathered in our apartment. It almost feels like old times, the
Antonov brothers in a group huddle, discussing business. Except in
this case, business has an entirely different definition. I’d received a call just
thirty minutes earlier. Charlotte has survived the surgery and is recovering.
Her condition is still serious, but the doctors are cautiously optimistic. It’s
more than I could hope for at the moment. I turn back to the conversation.
“If you’re all here,” I say, “who’s taking care of CyberFort?”
Dimitri lounges on the couch cushion beside me, arms spread out along
the back with an air of lazy confidence. “Merrybell’s running the ship until
we can figure out what’s going on.”
“Merry?” I echo, glancing at Mikhail. “You should really give that
woman a raise.”
Pyotr snorts. “She can have the whole fucking company if none of us
make it out alive.”
Catherina clicks her tongue. “Let’s think positively, shall we?”
“Positive,” Mikhail scoffs. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t
sold Aurora out.”
Luka, who’s been diligently trying to put together a new desktop
computer for me to work on, looks up. He glares at his mother. “Why the hell
would you do that?”
Catherina holds her head high, not a hint of shame to be found as she
traipses to the window overlooking the street. “Revenge doesn’t have an
expiry date,” she says coldly. “Konstantin killed your father. It is high time I
made a move against him, but I couldn’t do it alone.”
Mikhail shakes his head, his disappointment rolling off him in waves. I
can see it in the flare of his nostrils, in the tight purse of his lips and hard line
of his jaw. “We could die, Mother. Charlotte almost did. Because of your
selfishness.”
A sticky lump lodges in the back of my throat as thoughts of Charlotte
flood my mind. I try not to think about it, knowing she has a good chance at
survival, but all the what ifs play out in my head on repeat, haunting me.
What if we hadn’t fought the day of my birthday? What if we’d run a little
faster? What if— I shake the thoughts from my head. I will have time to
mourn when this is all over. Right now, I’m not angry.
I’m pissed.
“This is all your fault,” I accuse her, pointing an accusatory finger at her.
“You’re willing to put your sons’ lives at risk to avenge your husband? What
kind of mother are you?”
“And why would you drag my brothers into this?” Mikhail piles on.
“Konstantin made it clear he only wanted to bring me back into the fold.”
“Mother called us a few weeks ago,” Pyotr explains calmly. He is by far
the most level-headed of the group. “We were worried about you from day
one. We weren’t going to let you go up against him alone.”
“I was handling it.”
“Yeah,” Luka snorts as he hooks up the computer monitor via HDMI.
“Because everything’s going so well.”
“They were free and clear,” Mikhail argues on, looking pointedly at his
mother. “This was my problem to deal with. My family to protect.”
“Save your lecturing,” Catherina snaps. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Dimitri crosses one leg over the other, tilting his head back to stare up at
the ceiling. “How about we save the in-fighting for later, hm? We’ve got
bigger problems to deal with.”
“Done!” Luka proudly announces to the rest of the room as he boots up
the computer. I get up from my spot on the couch and hurry over, excited to
get to work.
“How’s the internet connection?” I ask.
“Absolute shit,” he grumbles, “but I think we’ll be able to get our work
done if everyone else here stays off the Wi-Fi and we close out all
background applications to keep the CPU from overworking. How much time
do you think you’ll need?”
I take a seat in the small chair he provides me, already navigating the
screen to start writing my keylogger program. All my notes were left behind
at Konstantin’s mansion, but I’ve got the major components figured out in
my head. “Definitely before dinnertime. As long as those names are legit.”
Catherina huffs. “Of course they’re legit. I got them from Konstantin’s
little black book myself.”
“How exactly?” Dimitri asks with an arched brow. “Oh, ew. Please don’t
say you seduced him or something.” He makes a show of shuddering in
disgust.
“I may have wined and dined him,” Catherina says without shame. “I’ve
spent weeks working him up to feeling comfortable about drinking around
me. And then, one night, I had him spilling all his secrets. Every single one of
his accountants, arms and drug suppliers… Everything.”
“Then we’ll need to act quickly,” Pyotr says. “He’ll likely be accessing
those bank accounts soon. It takes a lot to fund a private army.”
“I’ll have them seized within a couple of hours,” I assure. “All I need is
access to one. It’s very likely he moves his money around between accounts,
so I’ll be able to track and access them by following his paper trail.”
“I’ll help get the mass emails ready,” Luka says. “If we bombard them
with enough ghost accounts, I’m sure one of those idiots is bound to click on
a link they’re not supposed to. I just have to make sure the bot makes the
generated emails look convincing enough.”
“Nerds,” Dimitri jests under his breath. “What are we supposed to do in
the meantime?”
Mikhail grabs his coat and pulls it on. “Pyotr and I are going to meet with
Nicolai to prepare his men. You and Mother are going to prepare hers.”
“I can’t believe there are people still loyal to our side of the family,”
Dimitri marvels. “Even after all this time.”
“We were royalty once,” Catherina says indignantly, already heading
toward the door. “Even in exile, that will never change.”
“Are you good here?” Mikhail asks me, speaking in a far gentler tone
than with the rest of his family.
I nod. “Yeah, I should be good. I’ll get this up and running and then
Konstantin will be dead in the water.”
He grins and moves in to kiss me on the lips. “Good girl,” he rumbles.
“You be careful out there.”
“Don’t worry, moya lyubov. I will.”
“Ugh,” Luka groans beside me. His grimace is pronounced. “You two are
so cute it’s disgusting.”
 Mikhail ruffles his youngest brother’s hair before leaving. “Shut up,
asshole.”
The moment he’s gone, Luka and I get to work. We operate in relative
silence. Luka may be a grump, but he’s not mean. In my short time working
as his intern, I’ve come to respect him as a brilliant fellow programmer. He
works with amazing diligence, his work environment always distraction free.
It blows my mind how he’s able to code without any background nose, just
the sound of his keyboard clicking.
Even on my best days, I usually like to listen to music or have an old TV
sitcom playing so my ears have something to do. Maybe that’s why Luka’s
the head of the programming department at CyberFort. He knows his shit,
and he’s so meticulous the company’s competitors can’t even hope to keep
up. I decide to take a page out of his book and focus, determination
practically spilling out of me as I write down line after line.
This has to go perfectly. All we need is one of Konstantin’s accounts to
make a mistake. If we can paralyze his accounts and cut him off from his
money, things are bound to spiral out of control from there. He can amass as
big an army of Bratva as he likes, can reach out to all his different contacts
within the government, and make alliances with other Bratva families… But
at the end of the day, someone needs to foot the bill. I suspect that none of
these people are going to lay down their lives for free. And if Konstantin
can’t pay them, that’s one less thing to worry about.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” Luka pipes up after a few minutes. “Her
name is Charlotte, right?”
“Yeah.” I gulp. “Nicolai said they think she’ll recover.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
I nod in agreement “Luka, can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“What’s your opinion about all this? This Bratva business. Avenging your
father.”
Luka shrugs. “I’m… a little more removed than my brothers are. They’d
already fled to America by the time I was born. I didn’t grow up surrounded
by this nonsense. Unlike them, I didn’t get a chance to know my father. Even
though they were little, they still have memories of him. It’s hard for me to
want to avenge someone I never knew.”
I nod solemnly, thinking about my own father. It surprises me how little
I’ve thought about him lately. Finding him used to be the only thing on my
mind, my greatest goal in life. But with everything going on, my priorities
have shifted. I need to be here for Mikhail, present and working hard to
protect our future. While I don’t want my father to remain in the past, right
now, he needs to remain there.
“They tell me Mikhail is just like him, though,” Luka continues. “Dimitri
and Pyotr sometimes tell me Misha acts exactly like Lev. So I guess in a way,
I do know him? It’s weird.”
“Then he must have been a good man,” I comment, entering another line
of code before pressing ENTER.
“Yeah, must be.”
“Mikhail says he wants to stay after this. To take over. Keep things from
spiraling out of control.”
Luka’s expression hardens, his eyes dark and unreadable. I almost find it
amusing how similar the Antonov brothers are. At this moment, he reminds
me exactly of Mikhail.
“It’s his decision to make,” he says diplomatically.
“You’d support him?”
He sighs. “We all have our own lives to live. I’m not going to tell him
what to do. All I can do is hope he’ll be safe.”
“Do you think you’d stay if he asked? I’m sure Mikhail would love it if
his brothers could be near.”
Luka glances up from his laptop for a moment, appearing to genuinely
consider my question. “No,” he finally says. “Dimitri and Pyotr might be
convinced if he asked them, but I don’t think I will.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t speak the language.”
“You can always learn.”
“I’m more interested in programming than being a mobster.”
“Hm,” I hum. “I guess that’s fair.”
“I’ll always be here for him, but my life is in New York. Unless
something drastic happens, that’s never going to change. But regardless, I’ll
always come running if he needs me to.”
“You really mean it, huh?”
“Of course. I’d do that for any of my brothers. We all would.”
I smile at him, moved by his words. Manipulative mother and murderous
uncle aside, Mikhail really does have a wonderful family. There’s a bond
between them I can’t even begin to describe. It warms my heart to know that
come what may, Mikhail will always have someone to rely on.
My computer dings. My program has finished uploading. Goosebumps
break out across my arms and down the nape of my neck. I give everything a
quick test run, paying specific attention to any errors or performance issues
that might hinder our plans. I run it again and again and again.
Nothing happens.
It’s perfect.
“Get your bot ready,” I tell Luka with a smile. “We’re shifting to phase
two.”
CHAPTER 40
 AURORA

I t’s a waiting game. We can’t make a move until someone clicks on the
link to unleash my virus. Until then, all I can do is pray and hope someone
is stupid enough to be tricked.
Honestly, it seems really likely it will work, too. Luka, being the brilliant
genius he is, has made the emails look as convincing as possible. We’re not
brazen enough to send the link alone. If we did, it’d probably wind up in their
spam folders. Luka’s gone the extra mile of generating email templates so the
messages look like potential clients reaching out for a quote, or someone
claiming to have worked with them in the past hoping to have them look into
a new investment venture. I’ve done my part, so now everything’s in Luka’s
hands.
But that doesn’t stop me from being nervous as hell.
It’s already been three hours. Still nothing.
Anxiety has gripped me by the throat while my heart pounds so hard I can
feel my pulse in my eyes. I’m normally not pessimistic, but I can’t stop
thinking about what might happen if Luka and I fail. If we don’t manage to
cut Konstantin off, he’ll have all the funds he needs to amass an army against
us. There will be nothing to stop him from hiring hundreds, maybe even
thousands, of willing mercenaries to hunt us down.
We won’t stand a chance.
That’s why this has to work.
A day goes by. Then another. By the end of the week, I’m a nervous
mess, constantly looking over my shoulder for some unseen threat.
Konstantin could be lurking anywhere, could attack at any time.
“Have a seat, Aurora,” Mikhail says, peeking over the edge of his phone.
He’s been in talks with Nicolai all day. “You’re stressing me out.”
“I can’t help it. How are you so calm?”
He puts his phone away and extends his hand toward me, beckoning me
to come to him. I start toward him with a heavy exhale, slipping my palm into
his. Mikhail gives my fingers a light squeeze.
“My poor kisa. Why are you shaking?”
“Because I’m restless. Aren’t you?”
“Of course I am.”
“I feel like I’m going crazy. Like waiting for a bomb to drop.”
Mikhail kisses my knuckles. “You know what you need? Some stress
relief.”
The smokiness of his tone makes me grin, an almost automatic reflex at
this point. “Oh?” I say. “What did you have in mind?”
He leans forward like he’s going to kiss me—then stands up to grab his
coat. “Come on.”
I blink at him, confused. “Oh, I thought… Never mind. Where are we
going?”
“It’s a surprise,” he replies with a cheeky wink. “Don’t you trust me?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Of course I trust you.”
“Make sure to bundle up. It might get a little chilly.”

We drive for too long, going just to the edge of the city limits. Thick
evergreens surround us, big open fields stretching as far as the eye can see.
It’s a secluded place, plenty of privacy. The sunlight is pale and the air is
cool, but it’s fresh and crisp in my lungs. I already feel much better. Maybe
all I needed was a change in scenery.
I have to admit it feels weird being out in the open like this. Konstantin
has me living in fear. Every day, I wake up nauseated, always worried and
fretting about what terrible surprises the day might hold. But as long as
Mikhail is here, I think I’ll be fine. I know without a shadow of a doubt he’ll
never let anything happen to us. If he thinks it’s safe to be out here, then safe
we shall be.
“Stand here a moment,” he says before walking on.
I remain on the soft patch of grass, taking in our surroundings. I’m not yet
accustomed to the picturesque Russian countryside, but it’s definitely
growing on me. I much prefer it out here than the unfeeling, unforgiving
concrete jungle of New York. In the oddest sense, it’s a small blessing being
out here and one with nature.
Mikhail returns a few short moments later. Off in the distance, he’s set up
various glass bottles and tin cans on fallen tree logs, stumps, and mid-sized
boulders. He returns to my side and produces a gun from his holster, holding
it out to me with the utmost care.
“Target practice?” I ask with an amused smile.
“I swear I’ll never let any harm come to you,” he says. “I’ll protect you at
all costs. But it would be foolish of me if I didn’t prepare you for the worst-
case scenario. It’s time I taught you how to handle a gun.”
I take a deep breath. This is serious, but at the same time, I’m honored
that he trusts me with such a heavy responsibility. I’ve never fired a gun
before. I have no weapons training whatsoever. As much as I hate to think
about it, if something were to happen to Mikhail, I need to be able to defend
myself and our baby. We’ve been blessed with a short recovery time while
Konstantin makes his next move. It’s best if we used our time wisely.
Mikhail expertly explains the different parts of the gun. At least, all the
parts I need to know about. The safety, the bullet cartridge, the hammer, the
trigger.
“Always treat a gun like it’s loaded,” he warns me. “Even if you know
it’s empty, others might not. Don’t wave it around, don’t treat it like a joke.
Only aim at something or someone you actually intend to shoot.”
“I understand.”
“Good girl. Now, would you like to give it a try?”
Mikhail steps behind me and guides me into the proper stance. The cold
bite of the metal against my palm sends a child down my spine. All this
power—literally—at my fingertips… It’s enough to make my heart race.
“Center yourself,” he murmurs against my ear. He has one hand braced
on my waist, while the other holds my wrist steady as I lift the gun. “Never
put your finger on the trigger unless you’re ready to shoot.”
“Who taught you about guns?” I ask.
“My father. Right before he died.” I’m about to glance at him, but then he
says, “Eyes forward, kisa.”
“What was he like?” I mutter, choosing the closest bottle to aim at.
“Tough,” he answers gruffly. “But fair. And just.”
 “Kind of like you?”
“I suppose… Fire when ready.”
My hands have the slightest of trembles. This is all so intimidating. I
can’t imagine how I’d fare if I ever found myself up against a living,
breathing human being if I can barely set my sights on a bottle. I line up my
shot to the best of my ability and allow the tip of my finger to graze the
trigger. I squeeze.
The recoil startles me, the kickback sending a jolt through me. It’s a good
thing Mikhail braced me against his body or I might have tumbled right over
in surprise. The sound of the gunshot rings loudly in my ear, bringing back
with it the memories of our escape. Of the gunfire that ensued. Of Charlotte.
I missed my target entirely.
“Shit,” I grumble.
Mikhail chuckles. “That’s alright. You’re new to this. Just try again.”
I suck in a sharp breath between clenched teeth, willing my pounding
heart to steady. I aim and fire. This time, I know what to expect. I widen my
stance and bend my knees slightly to absorb the shock of the kickback. The
sound of glass shattering into little bits and pieces from across the way is a
thrill like I’ve never felt.
“I did it!” I exclaim, thoroughly pleased with myself.
“You’re a natural,” Mikhail compliments, pressing a kiss to my temple.
He steps away a few paces. “Now, try the rest. Remember to breathe and take
your time. It’s not a race.”
I focus on the task at hand, pulled into a strange sort of trance. My
worries wash away as I concentrate on the targets before me. One by one, I
fire. Some of them I hit on my first try, while others I miss entirely. The
simplicity of aiming and shooting is almost rhythmic.
Every time a bottle breaks or a tin can flies, the fuzzy sensation of
satisfaction spreads through me like warm sand slipping through my fingers.
Fleeting, but so wonderfully indescribable. I feel like I could go on for hours
and hours. Eventually, though, when I pull the trigger, it only clicks. I’m out
of bullets.
I turn with a smile and find Mikhail watching me, his eyes full of warm
fondness.
“How do you feel now?” he asks, stepping forward to take his empty gun
from me.
“Much better, actually. How did you know that was exactly what I
needed?”
He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in close. “Because,
Aurora. I know you. Just as you know me.”
I hop up on my toes and plant a kiss on his lips, drinking in the details of
his face. His hair has gotten the slightest bit longer since we arrived in
Russia. His beard, too, is bushier and in need of a trim. In many ways, he’s
been made gruff, his hard edges honed into something sharp out of necessity.
But when he’s with me, he’s all things sweet and soft. The duality he holds
within himself never ceases to amaze me.
Mikhail Antonov is my whole world, and he has my heart completely.
He searches my eyes, the moment so tender and true it makes me want to
melt.
“Marry me,” he whispers. The simplicity of his request leaves me
breathless. There’s no need for a grand gesture, no need for him to get down
on one knee. It’s a quiet request, almost a secret between two halves of one
soul. “Marry me, Aurora. I can’t promise what’s going to happen, but what I
do know is I don’t want to spend another day without you. Say you’ll be
mine, because I am most certainly yours.”
“Yes!” The answer rushes out of me like a hurricane, sure and steadfast
and unstoppable.
He kisses me with such fire and passion I momentarily lose myself.
Nothing else matters. Not the war with his uncle, not this feeling of
impending doom. Right now, all I feel is hope and love and the undying
devotion to one another.
“When this is over,” he says, “we’ll have a massive wedding.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I don’t need a massive wedding, darling. I just
need you.”
“How about an extended honeymoon? I feel like we deserve a bit of a
vacation.”
“As long as it’s somewhere warm and tropical.”
Mikhail chuckles. “I’m sure that can be arranged. Where would you want
to—” His phone blares in his pocket, interrupting our moment. He answers
with impressive speed. “Luka? Yes, I’ll tell her… Good, we’re on our way
back.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Someone’s clicked on your link. The virus you wrote is logging their
information as we speak.”
 The news is more effective than a shot of adrenaline. I can’t believe it
worked!
“We have to get back,” I say hurriedly, tugging Mikhail’s hand to make
him hurry. “Come on, come on!”
Mikhail follows, just as eager as I am.
It’s time to drain Konstantin’s accounts.
CHAPTER 41
 MIKHAIL

I ’ve never seen so much money.

I mean, CyberFort is a multi-billion-dollar company, but this is a
whole other level of mind blowing. My uncle has just shy of a billion spread
out across almost twenty different bank accounts, with ten different banks,
hosted in at least four different countries. Rubles, the Euro, the American
Dollar, Pesos, Yen… Konstantin has done an excellent job of diversifying his
portfolio and spreading out his cash to make it damn near impossible for law
enforcement to link it all back to him.
But we’re not law enforcement.
Unlike them, we’re not tied down by laws. It was always going to end up
this way. We had no choice but to fight dirty. Aurora’s little code has
wormed its way into stealing all of Konstantin’s private information; all we
have to do is sit back and wait for his empire to crumble. In fact, we might
not even have to wait that long.
“Word on the street is that his allies are leaving him in droves,” Nicolai
reports, ending the call with one of his street informants. If there’s one thing
the Stokayevskis are known for, it’s for their intricate network of sources
stationed from the underground to the highest seats of the Kremlin. “There’s
still a good handful of his loyalists remaining behind with him, but I wouldn’t
be surprised if they all turn their backs when they realize he can’t afford to
pay for their protection.”
Aurora flashes me a triumphant smile. “This is going surprisingly well.
And all because the idiot who clicked the link uses the same password for all
his accounts, too.”
Luka snorts from behind his laptop. “Rookie mistake.”
 Dimitri grins. “Should I break out the champagne?”
“Let’s not celebrate yet,” Pyotr says sternly. “We don’t know what kind
of shit Konstantin might pull.”
Catherina nods sagely from her corner of my apartment. “He’s a cornered
animal now. That’s when they’re the most unpredictable.” She sits by herself,
separated from the rest of the group. I’m not sure if it’s on purpose, or pure
coincidence. Things between us have been strained in recent days. Since her
motivations were revealed to my brothers, they’ve been giving her a wide
berth.
“So what do we do now?” Aurora asks.
“Now Misha swoops in to buy out Konstantin’s business endeavors using
his own money,” Dimitri explains. “A classic corporate takeover. Well,
almost.”
“Big business really is a lot like crime, huh?” she comments.
Pyotr snorts. “Commentary of the year, ladies and gents.”
Nicolai raises a finger, halting our conversation. His brows furrow as he
reads an incoming message on his phone. “We’ve got a problem.”
“What is it?” I snap.
“I’m not sure if this information is one-hundred percent reliable, but it
sounds like Konstantin is trying to make a run for it.”
My brothers look to me, seeking direction. I’m not surprised Konstantin
would try to flee Russia. Without access to his money, he doesn’t have access
to protection. Without access to protection, his enemies—those who are even
bigger than my brothers and me—will be after him like rabid dogs. A part of
me wants to let him go. Let him run with his tail between his legs.
But then I look at Aurora, my eyes trailing down to her baby bump. Our
child.
We might have Konstantin on the run and fearing for his life, but what if
he comes back one day to enact his revenge? What if he races off somewhere,
recollects himself, and returns to avenge all he’s lost just as me and my
brothers have? It would be a bloodbath. And my child and darling one could
be caught in the crossfire. That’s not a risk I’m willing to take—not now, not
ever.
“Do we know which airport?” I ask.
Nicolai is quiet for a moment, scanning the information. “My source says
it’s a smaller airfield just southwest of Moscow. It looks like he borrowed a
jet from a business associate of his. Current flight destination is unknown.”
 “We need to stop him from leaving the country,” I proclaim. “Who
knows what kind of damage he might cause if we let him out of our sights.”
Dimitri and Pyotr are already headed out the door.
“We’ll bring the car around,” Dimitri says.
“And I’ll load the guns,” Pyotr adds.
“We’re all going,” Luka says determinedly.
Aurora quickly shifts out of her seat. “Me, too.”
I shake my head. “No, you’re staying here.”
She frowns. “Hell no.”
“Aurora, I’m not going to tell you again. This is dangerous.”
“Where you go, I go,” she says firmly. Aurora takes my hand, looking
deep into my eyes. I can tell she’s going to fight me on this no matter how
many times I tell her no. “Please, Mikhail. I’ll stay out of the way.”
I sigh. We’re running out of time. “Fine,” I grumble. “But you are to sit in
the back seat, and you have to do exactly as I say.”
“I promise.”
“Good. Now, everybody get in the car!”

The airport is a small one, intended for domestic cargo planes instead of large
commercial flights. There are several hangars lined up along one side of the
strip, their doors thrown wide open to reveal the series of smaller Cessnas
and other propeller planes. On the landing strip sits an Eclipse 550 jet, its
sleek silver engines already roaring and ready for take-off.
Konstantin must be onboard.
Pyotr drives our vehicle right up to the strip just as the jet starts to taxi,
picking up speed as it prepares to fly. The pilot of the jet swerves the entire
plane around our vehicle, continuing to barrel down the runway with
alarming urgency.
Unfortunately, that’s the least of our concerns. A group of armed men
storm out of the hangars, firing their automatic weapons at our car. They
were lying in wait for us—my uncle’s last defense against us.
Pyotr stomps on the brakes. The whole vehicle screeches to an abrupt
halt. As quick as lightning, we all get out and use the car’s surface area as a
shield. It’s not going to hold, but at least it’s something.
 “Where are your men?” I shout at Nicolai as I draw my gun.
“They’re one minute out!” he shouts back, loading his own weapon. “We
just need to stall for time. Once reinforcements arrive, they’ll be
outnumbered.”
I have a protective arm around Aurora’s head, keeping her as low to the
ground as possible. I knew it was a bad idea to bring her with us. To her
credit, she doesn’t seem panicked in the slightest. Even as the gunfire rings
loudly into the air, I’ve never seen her calmer and more collected.
“Luka!” she shouts over the chaos. “Give me your laptop!”
“What are you going to do?” I roar over the deafening violence. “Are you
going to hack into the jet’s computer system?”
“No, that’s closed circuit. No way in.” She immediately gets to work, her
back propped against the side of the car. Her fingers move so quickly they’re
practically a blur. “But I am going to hack into air traffic control. That’s
much easier!”
I return fire. One shot, two shots. They both hit their mark. “I’ll have to
take your word for it.”
Nicolai’s backup arrives in the knick of time. His men come barreling
forward, providing the firepower we so desperately need. Bullet casings litter
the ground. Konstantin’s men bleed out all over the asphalt.
“Behind you!” Dimitri shouts.
I whip around to find that one of Konstantin’s men has managed to sneak
around us. He’s bleeding profusely from his arm and abdomen, but he still
has enough strength to stagger forward with his gun raised—pointed right at
me. Before I even have the chance to blink, a gunshot rips through the air. I
don’t know if I’m the one who fired or if he managed to take the shot before
me.
He keels over, slumping to the hard ground. Dead.
I look up to see Catherina glaring at the man, her gun still smoking.
Looks like I owe her one.
“I did it!” Aurora exclaims.
“What?” Luka snaps.
“I got into their mainframe. I’m marking his jet as an airspace threat. If
they don’t land immediately, the Russian Air Force will have to intervene.”
“God, I love you,” I breathe.
The gun fight slowly but surely comes to a stop. Konstantin’s men have
taken heavy casualties. Most of them are dead, and those who aren’t likely
won’t survive the hour if they don’t get medical attention soon.
“Round up the survivors,” I order. “Get them patched up.”
Nicolai arches a brow at me. “You don’t want them executed?”
“That’s not how I run things. The fight is over. See to it they’re patched
up. If they’re resistant to our help, then let them bleed. If they’re willing to
accept it, show them mercy.”
“That’s not how Konstantin does it,” Catherina comments.
I offer her a baleful stare. “I’m not him.”
Carefully, I help Aurora to her feet. She’s unharmed, as are my brothers.
Everyone important to me is safe and sound.
Aurora has her sights set on the sky. The jet Konstantin boarded is off in
the distance, but it’s very clearly making a drastic pivot back toward the air
strip.
“I guess the pilot doesn’t think being blown up on his behalf is worth it,”
Dimitri says with a chuckle.
“Everyone get ready,” I say. “It’s not over until it’s over.”
CHAPTER 42
 AURORA

“S tay behind me,” Mikhail warns. “He could be armed.”

I do just that, and the other Antonov brothers also stand in front
of me. Instead of a single shield, I now find myself behind an entire wall.
The jet has come to a full stop on the runway, its engines whirring down.
All the windows are tinted, so it’s difficult to see what’s going on inside. We
wait a good four to five minute before anything happens. We have them
completely surrounded. Even if Konstantin was planning to put up a fight, I
doubt he’d get very far before he was riddled with bullet holes.
I hold my breath when the jet’s door opens, falling forward to allow the
slide-out staircase to descend. The pilot is the first to come out with his hands
above his head. He looks to be an ordinary man unlucky enough to be roped
into this mess. The fear in his eyes is a dead giveaway that he probably didn’t
expect his day to take such a drastic turn of events.
“Get out of here,” Pyotr tells him.
The pilot nods and runs off.
The only person remaining is Konstantin.
He steps out slowly, pure hatred evident in his bloodshot eyes. Despite
his obvious defeat, Konstantin holds his head up with pride. I doubt the man
understands the concept of shame, but now is hardly the time for a lecture.
He takes one step down, then two, his movements obscenely slow. He’s a
prisoner on death row, taking his time to draw out the inevitable.
“I would like to make a deal,” he says.
Beside me, Luka scoffs. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Mikhail raises a hand. “Let him speak. Everybody should be entitled to
their final words.”
 Konstantin’s nostrils flare. “You’re not going to kill me.”
“You shouldn’t sound so sure,” I hiss. “You’re going to pay for what you
did to Charlotte.”
“Charlotte?” He arches a brow. “Oh, right. Your little friend. Did
something happen to her?”
Fury and indignation boil in the pit of my stomach. I clench my fists into
tight balls. Even though Charlotte continues to recover under Nicolai’s
watchful eye, I want this man to pay for almost killing her.
“Easy,” Mikhail warns me, his hand my arm when I step forward. “Tell
me about this deal, uncle, before I kill you and get it over with.”
“I can provide you with valuable information,” Konstantin says. “I know
the inner workings of the Bratva’s side businesses like the back of my hand.
You’ll need someone to help you with the transition of power.”
“I have it handled,” Mikhail says firmly. “Besides, why would I take
advice from someone I don’t value?”
“There are still a handful of my loyalists hiding amongst your ranks.
You’ll need me alive to keep them at bay.”
“We’ll weed them out,” Dimitri says simply.
Even at a distance, I can tell that Konstantin is struggling to find a leg to
stand on. The Antonov brothers aren’t giving him an inch. Good. I find great
satisfaction in watching him squirm like this.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “Then how about I offer you a prisoner in exchange
for my freedom?”
I furrow my brow. “A prisoner?”
Mikhail presses his lips into a thin line. “Who could you possibly have
captive? Everyone of importance to me is here.”
“Everyone?” he asks. His tone sends a chill crawling down my arms and
the back of my neck. “Even your father?”
My heart skips a beat as I turn to look at Mikhail, my mouth dropping
open in shock. It can’t be. No way. Everything I’ve heard from Mikhail and
his brothers is that they had to leave their father for dead. It’s been decades
since they last saw him. Could it really, truly be?
“He’s bluffing,” Pyotr says with a grunt.
“Don’t listen to him,” Dimitri growls.
“Think about it, my dear nephews,” Konstantin says with an easy
chuckle. Even though he’s staring death in the face, he’s as calm and
charismatic as ever. I’m not sure if it’s because of this ace up his sleeve, or if
it’s because he’s a straight up psychopath. Maybe both. “You never saw a
body,” he goes on. “You all left for America before I managed to get my
hands on him. I might be capable of a great many things, but do you honestly
believe killing my little brother is one of them?”
Catherina sucks in a sharp breath. In all the time I’ve known her, I’ve
never once seen her lose her composure. This is the first time I’ve ever seen
her ice-cold walls crack. Her shoulders tremble, her breathing unsteady.
“No…” she whispers. “You killed Lev. He betrayed you. There’s no way you
were going to let that slide.”
“I have been known to make exceptions. After all, what’s more important
than family, hm?”
Mikhail is a stone statue. I don’t think he’s blinked since Konstantin
dropped his bomb. His jaw is a hard line, the muscles in his face so taut I can
almost see the vein at his temple pulse.
My own mind races. What if he really is bluffing? I don’t want to let this
bastard get away with nearly killing my best friend, with everything he’s
done to us. Konstantin deserves to be punished to the fullest extent of the
Bratva code. I personally want to see him six feet under. Until then, I don’t
think I’ll ever be able to find peace. My hand instinctively flies to my belly.
If we let him live, what if he comes after us again? Surely, we cannot chance
it. The risks are far too great.
There’s a storm behind Mikhail’s eyes. I swear I can almost hear his
thoughts. If Konstantin isn’t full of shit and he’s actually telling the truth for
a change…
“What do you want?” he asks slowly, carefully.
“My freedom. Let me fly out of here.”
“That’s not going to happen!” Luka snaps, saying exactly what we’re all
thinking.
“Fine. Then kill me where I stand and you can spend the rest of your lives
wondering where I’ve hidden Lev.”
The air is so thick and tense and still I want to punch a hole straight
through it just to get rid of this icky feeling clinging to my skin.
“Konstantin is a liar,” I say to Mikhail. “You know that. He’s just trying
to trick you.”
“But what if he isn’t?” Catherina asks, desperation dripping off her every
word. I can sense her burning hope. It’s going to hurt when we realize
Konstantin’s only trying to pull a fast one on us.
 Mikhail is quiet for a very long time, his mind a mystery to me. At the
end of the day, it’s his call. I trust his decisions, even if I don’t always agree
with them.
“You’re not going free,” he says eventually. “But I want to know more.”
Konstantin squints at him, his upper lip curling into a sneer. “You’re a
businessman, Misha. You of all people should understand that’s not how
deals work.”
“You’re in no position to negotiate.” Mikhail snaps his fingers. Four of
our armed guards stalk forward, surrounding Konstantin. Even if he were to
try and run now, he wouldn’t get very far. “Detain him,” Mikhail commands.
“Bring him to me.”
They grab him roughly by the arm. One of them has a gun pointed to the
back of his head. Konstantin struggles, but quickly gives up. He finally
understands the futility of his situation, but in a last-ditch effort of defiance
allows his body to go limp like a child throwing a tantrum. The men have to
drag him, forcing him down before Mikhail on his knees.
“Tell me where my father is.”
Konstantin says nothing.
“Just kill him and get it over with,” Pyotr grumbles.
“No!” Catherina exclaims. “No, you must keep him alive.”
“I agree,” Dimitri admits. “What if he’s telling the truth? What if our
father is alive?”
“The bastard’s a snake,” Luka argues. “Kill him now and get it over
with.”
They break out into a symphony of noise, debating loudly with one
another. I remain silent, watching Konstantin coldly. I don’t miss the devilish
smile he wears as the Antonov family divides itself into two.
I tug on Mikhail’s hand. “I have an idea.”
“What is it, moya lyubov?”
“Take him to The Pit.”
A hush falls over the rest of the family at the sound of my suggestion.
They lean in, listening intently as I stare my ex-captor down.
“Take him to The Pit and lock him away,” I say.
Konstantin spits at my feet, but I don’t flinch. “You’d treat me like some
common animal?”
“Why not?” I ask coldly. “That’s what you are.”
“It’s freezing down there!”
 “I’m sure we can make it comfortable for you. For a price. You can earn
your privileges. You know, for good behavior.”
He glowers at me. “Listen here, you little bitch—”
Mikhail kicks Konstantin in the shoulder, his teeth grating. “You are
never to speak to her like that again, are we clear?”
I give his fingers a light squeeze. “You can keep him there until he gives
you the information you seek. That way we all win. Even if he’s lying, he’ll
be locked away for good.”
Mikhail nods slowly. There’s a hint of approval in his expression. “Take
him to The Pit,” he instructs the guards holding onto Konstantin. “Actually,
scratch that. I’ll take him there personally.”
CHAPTER 43
 AURORA

M y Russian has improved greatly over the past three and a half months.
I’ve been taking private lessons with a tutor, speaking in the language
as often as I can around the house with anyone who’s willing to put up with
my terrible accent and poor grammar structure. We have a small household
consisting of a few maids and a cook. They’re all very kind, certainly more
so than the ones on the compound.
We have a lovely house on the outskirts of Moscow, deep within the
suburbs. In many ways, it feels just like home. Rows upon rows of houses in
neat blocks lined with trees and gardens. Some homeowners have white
picket fences and laundry lines across their front yard. I’m still learning to
read the street signs, and Mikhail insists that Alexi, who asked to return to
guard detail, accompany me everywhere should I decide to go out for a
breath of fresh air, though it’s not like I can roam about as freely now that my
belly is so large.
I spend most of my days indoors, taking pride in decorating the house and
getting ready for my baby’s arrival. Mikhail pretty much gave me free reign
of the nursery, though he insisted on picking the paint color—a rich forest
green. Apart from that, I’ve been busily filling the space with all manner of
toys and clothes and furniture, growing giddier with every day that passes.
“I don’t think these are age appropriate?” Alexi comments as he picks up
one of the many stuffed bears lining the shelves.
“They’re for when he’s older,” I say with a quiet giggle. My Russian is
barely passable. “I’ve read all my books. The baby’s going to spend most of
his time sleeping anyways, but aren’t these so cute?”
He chuckles. “I suppose so.”
 “Any word on when Mikhail will be back?”
“He just texted. He’s finishing a meeting with the Volkovs.”
“Another territory dispute?”
“With those greedy fucks? Always.”
I place my hands over my belly, pretending to be offended. “Careful! He
can hear you.”
Alexi rolls his eyes. “Oh, please.”
“You don’t think he can hear noises in there? I really don’t want my baby
coming out knowing how to swear.”
“Forgive me, Aurora. I’ll be more mindful from here on out.”
“I’m just teasing you. You don’t have to be so serious all the time.”
“But… this is always how I am?”
“I know. But it wouldn’t kill you to lighten up a little.”
“I take your safety very seriously, Aurora.”
“And I’m eternally grateful for you and your service. What you did for
Charlotte… I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”
Alexi waves me off, offering a small smile. “I am glad she recovered and
was able to go back home.”
“Me too. I miss her like mad, but I can visit her anytime I want.” I fold
the pile of clean burping towels on the changing station again, not quite
satisfied with my work. “How are you doing, by the way?”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean… You’ve pretty much been adopted into the Antonov Bratva at
this point. Don’t you miss your own?”
“I’m out on loan,” he explains. “It’s really not so bad. Think of it as a
gesture of goodwill. Nicolai has always wanted an alliance with the
Antonovs, but Konstantin was much too hostile a business partner. Having
me work for Mikhail as your bodyguard is our way of showing our gratitude
and willingness to work together.”
I smile. “I guess I still have a thing or two to learn about the business,
huh?”
“Don’t worry. You’ll get there soon enough.”
“You didn’t answer my question, though.”
“What?”
“How are you doing?”
Alexi smiles. It’s a gentle sort of grin, one with warmth intended for only
the closest of friends. “I’m happy here, Aurora. Thank you for asking.”
 His phone begins to ring in his pocket. He answers immediately.
“Mikhail? Yes, she’s here.” Alexi holds his phone out to me. “The boss
wants to talk to you.”
I hold the phone to my ear. “Misha?”
“Hello, my love.”
“What’s up? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I was just wondering if you could forward last
month’s financial reports to Dimitri. We just left our meeting with the
Volkovs. They want concrete proof that the transition hasn’t hurt our
prospects.”
I snort. “Can’t they take your word for it?”
“We’re about to strike a business deal with them. They want
transparency.”
“I guess that’s fair. Hold on, I just have to go to the office.”
Exiting the nursery, I stride down the long hall, my feet padding across
the cool wooden flooring. I have an office all to myself. No shared
workstations in sight. I open the door to reveal what has now effectively
become my command center, Alexi behind me.
Before returning to America, Luka helped me set up a battle station,
complete with a powerful top-of-the-line desktop computer, four different
screens and an impressive office chair with more bells and whistles than a
car. The adjustable lumbar support is especially impressive, but I’m not here
to lounge around. Mikhail needs me to take care of business.
I don’t have an official title, though I certainly have a function within the
overall operation. I suppose you could say I am officially the head of
cybersecurity. We learn from our enemies' mistakes and allowing himself to
get hacked was what led to Konstantin’s downfall. Mikhail wanted to make
sure something similar would never happen to us. Within a few weeks after
the takeover, I was charged with completely revamping our system. Our
accounts, communications, and so on will never be breached as long as I’m in
charge.
Mikhail and I make an excellent team. We always have. While I take care
of the work behind the scenes, helping to keep everything organized and my
thumb on the pulse, Mikhail is busy out there being the new face of the
Antonov Bratva. He’s determined to make an impact of his own, to show we
run things differently and more efficiently. And with a hell of a lot less
violence.
 He tries to keep me out of the spotlight as much as possible, and I’m
perfectly fine with that arrangement. While he’s done well to make a good
impression on the other gangs in Moscow, we’re not willing to take any
chances now that the baby’s almost here. It’s too soon to tell how many
enemies are lurking in the shadows, so for now, we must be cautious.
With a few simple clicks, I send off the reports he and Dimitri need. I
have everything compiled on a secure server, tracking money coming in and
out. We won’t make the same mistake as Konstantin and hire accountants.
When you want the job done right, you have to do it yourself. The only
people we can truly rely on are those within the family.
I hold the phone to my ear. “All done, darling.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
“I love you. Be safe.”
“I will. I love you, too.”
I hang up and hand Alexi his phone. “Do you think you can tell the cook
to start preparing dinner?”
“Sure,” he says. “Is there anything specific you’d like to request?”
“As long as it’s not borscht again. I’m getting sick of—”
A sudden jolt of pain cuts me off mid-sentence. It pierces through me, so
overwhelming it momentarily blanks my mind. It’s a massive cramp, the pain
radiating from the pit of my belly. I suck in a sharp breath and groan.
“Ow.”
“Aurora?” Alexi says, concern knitting his brows together. “What’s
wrong?”
“I’m… I’m not sure—”
Another massive cramp hits me out of nowhere. It’s so powerful it leaves
me winded, my lungs burning with the sudden one-two follow up. Something
isn’t right. Could it be the babies? I’m still a few weeks out, surely… I look
down.
My water’s broken.
“Oh, God,” I breathe. “Oh, no. The babies are early.”
Alexi immediately moves in to check on me. “It’s okay, Aurora. Deep
breaths. I’m going to get you to the hospital.”
“O-okay.”
“I’ll get the car ready. Everything’s going to be fine.”
CHAPTER 44
 MIKHAIL

“D o we have a deal?” I ask, sliding the contract across the table for
Ilya Volkov to look over.
We’re seated in the middle of a nice restaurant. It’s midday, so there’s
plenty of light. I know the movies and television shows like to make these
meetings seem dark and sketchy, but I swear it’s just for the dramatic
cinematography. In reality, we do business just like everyone else—over a
nice lunch and a glass of wine. Just because we’re Bratva, and just because
the businesses we’re involved with are frowned upon amongst polite society,
doesn’t mean we can’t be civilized.
Ilya Volkov has a face only a mother could love. He’s seen his fair share
of fist fights. And gun fights. And knife fights. I don’t think there’s an inch of
his face that isn’t covered in scars or burns. But despite his abhorrent
appearance, he’s surprisingly calm and well-mannered—which is all the more
reason I need to be cautious of him. It’s always the quiet ones you need to be
wary of. You can never tell what they’re thinking.
“Sixty percent?” Ilya says with a friendly smile. “I’m afraid that doesn’t
work for me, my friend. I negotiated for eighty percent control of the district
when Konstantin was still in charge.”
I don’t move a muscle, as still and sure as stone. Now isn’t the time to
show weakness or confusion. “I understand. But Konstantin isn’t here
anymore. I’ve run the numbers, and sixty is more than generous given how
the businesses in this area have been performing.”
“I’ve already finished construction,” he persists. “The luxury apartments
are available on the market.”
“Yes, but they’ve been sitting there for almost five years.”
 “And how do you know that?”
“I have a very good research team.” I tap the contract’s edge. “I know
you’re looking for a way to legitimize your funds. Property management is
certainly one way to do so, but you’ve created a hole for yourself, my friend.
You’ve built luxury apartments in one of the poorest districts of the city.”
“I was assured the clientele would flock to the area.” Ilya leans back in
his chair with a groan. He is an older man, roughly ten years my senior. “You
know that old American saying. Build it and they will come.”
I grin. “And how’s that working out for you?”
He chuckles. “Not well. Clearly.”
“Sixty percent of the revenue split is more than generous. You know
that.”
Ilya arches a bushy grey brow. “And what do you plan on doing with the
property?”
“I plan on breaking down the apartments you’ve built into smaller
subunits. We’ll make far more revenue with month-over-month rentals at
price ranges the locals can actually afford. I’ll turn a few of them into some
Air BnB’s, too. That way we can still bring in foreign cash and keep
everything liquid. Your free to use your sixty percent cut however you wish.”
“And who’s funding this renovation?”
“My people, of course. Consider it a gesture of goodwill.”
Ilya smiles. “You are very generous, Antonov. Far more generous than
your uncle. Be careful not to let people take advantage of your good nature.
Advice from one man to another, hm?”
“I appreciate that,” I say honestly. “But I know what I’m doing.”
“As I see.” He pulls out a capped fountain pen from the inside pocket of
his suit jacket to sign the contract. “I can tell you’re going to be a force to be
reckoned with.”
“I already am.”
Ilya laughs. “Then I better stay on your good side, hm?” He slides the
contract back to me. “Here’s to our prosperous future endeavors.”
We shake hands and seal the deal. Today is shaping up to be a very good
day.
“Would you like to stay for dessert?” Ilya asks me with the air and
casualty of a decade-long friendship.
“Thank you, but no. I have other business to attend to.”
“I understand. Maybe some other time.”
 My protection detail follows me closely as I make my way to the car
parked at the curb. Already seated in the back is my mother. Catherina is
dressed in a white pant suit, a string of expensive pearls decorating her
slender neck. I frown when I see her.
“I told you I wanted to go alone,” I grumble.
“You know I would have found a way to see him some other way. We
might as well carpool.”
Despite my irritation, I get into the back of the vehicle. The second the
door is shut, my driver speeds off. I have one last thing on my docket today
before I can finally return home from work.
“Has he said anything?” Catherina asks.
“He’s being vague on purpose. All I know is Lev is somewhere in
Siberia.”
Catherina huffs, checking for dirt beneath her nails. There is none. I don’t
think the woman has ever had to work with her hands in her entire life.
“We’re going to have to narrow this down. Siberia spans thousands of
kilometers. What did you trade for that little bit of information?”
“Blankets,” I say. “And a warm meal once a day. Dimitri threw in a
pillow to try and get into his good graces.”
My mother shifts in her seat, immediately prickly. “And what is he asking
for now?”
“A space heater. It’s cold down in The Pit.”
“Hm,” is all she says, her lips pressed into a thin, wrinkly line.
We arrive at our destination not twenty minutes later. It’s practically
unrecognizable since I took over. Gone are the hangars, replaced with a large
concrete warehouse. The warehouse itself is empty and grey. Unassuming.
Exactly how I asked it to be designed. I wanted to make sure people wouldn’t
bat an eye when they saw this forsaken place, because in actuality, it’s
designed to be an inescapable prison.
A prison for one.
We take the newly installed elevator all the way down to the basement
floor. There are no more precariously exposed dirt walls, no rickety stairs.
It’s a proper establishment, complete with tile floors, running water, and
working electricity. I may be the head of the Bratva, but I refuse to stoop to
my uncle’s level. He may be my captive, but I won’t treat him like a dog.
Unless he continues to anger me.
Catherina and I step into the room. A thick plane of glass bisects it,
separating visitors from the lone person on the other side. I find Dimitri
seated in a comfortable wooden chair facing the glass, watching as
Konstantin paces back and forth.
My younger brother lets out a sigh of relief when he sees me.
“Thank God,” he says. “About time you showed up. He’s been rambling
on and on about his old war stories. I don’t care, old man.”
Konstantin snivels. “You kids these days have no respect.”
“Has he told you anything important?” I ask my brother.
Dimitri shakes his head. “No. Just more of his nonsense. Every time I try
to ask a question, he finds a way to talk in circles. It’s mind numbing.”
“Go ahead and take off,” I tell him. “I’ll take care of this.”
He pats me on the shoulder. “If you say so.”
I step toward the glass and inspect my uncle. He’s lost some weight, but
it’s not so extreme that it’s a worry. I ensure the guards give him three square
meals a day. Granted, they’re not exactly Michelin star worthy, but they’re
nutritionally balanced. He’s dressed in a simple white shirt and pair of linen
pants. No shoes. His cell is relatively bare, save for the mattress and built-in
toilet, shower, and sink.
“I see you have what I asked for,” Konstantin says, glancing down at the
object in my hand.
I hold it up. “A space heater. Just like you asked.”
“You’re not going to give it to me, are you.” It’s a statement, not a
question.
“No. The chord is too long. I don’t want to give you an opportunity to
take the easy way out.”
Konstantin scoffs. “Please. I value my life too much.”
“But I will have the guards adjust the thermostat to your liking.”
“That would be swell. This place gets so cold at night.”
“Sure. But you have to tell me where my father is first.”
My uncle smiles. I hate it when he smiles one of those shit-eating grins;
they never fail to wear on my patience. “I already told you. He’s in Siberia.”
“I need an exact location.”
Konstantin moseys on over to his bed and takes a seat on the edge of his
mattress. “An exact location, hm?”
“Enough of your games, Uncle. Tell me or—”
“Or what?” he challenges. “You’ll keep me prisoner? Deny me the basic
comforts of life? Take over my empire and reshape it in your image? Oh,
wait. You’re already doing that.”
I am on the edge of losing my temper. I swallow it, though. This is all a
big game to him, always has been. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction
of knowing he’s managed to worm his way under my skin.
“Listen to me very carefully,” I say, deliberately slow and low.
“Catherina wanted to take you out back and shoot you between the eyes. All I
have to do is give the word, and my will be done.”
“You think death scares me?”
I smile. “No, I know it doesn’t. That’s why I’m going to make life for you
a living hell.”
“You’re all talk, dear nephew. You abhor violence.”
“That’s what I’ve led you to believe. I do prefer to be more diplomatic.
There’s no sense in making enemies where they aren’t needed. Too much of
a hassle. But I have played dirty before, and I’m not above doing it again if
need be.”
“What could you possibly—”
“I will strip you of your clothes,” I say flatly. “I will have them turn off
the heat. The lights. I’ll order them to remove your bathroom area, your bed,
and your blankets. I will trap you here in the dark, lock the door, and toss
away the key. You won’t die right away. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll give you a
pile of food to keep in your grubby little corner. You might survive the
month, but just barely. By the end of it, you’ll be begging for death because,
at that point, it will be the kinder option.”
Konstantin snarls. “You’re bluffing.”
“Would you like to find out?”
We’re suddenly in a staring contest. I see nothing but hate and disdain in
his eyes. Slowly but surely, defeat crawls in there somewhere, too. My uncle
blinks first, his teeth grinding against one another. After a minute that feels
closer to eternity, he finally opens his mouth.
“Pevek,” he answers. “I have Lev under strict surveillance in Pevek.”
“Christ,” Catherina hisses behind me. I was so absorbed in intimidating
my uncle I almost forgot she was there.
Pevek is one of the northernmost port towns in Eastern Siberia. It’s cold
and sparse and almost completely isolated. It’s not exactly a tourist attraction.
There are several known gulags—now defunct—where prisoners were used
to mine uranium after the First World War, but that’s the extent of the town’s
vibrant history. If my father is being held captive there, it’s really no wonder
we all thought he was dead for so long. Even if he managed to escape, he
likely wouldn’t survive the frigid climate.
I study Konstantin’s reaction. I can tell he isn’t bluffing. In the off chance
he is, I’ll follow up with his punishment accordingly.
“There,” I say. “Was that so hard?”
“You won’t like what you find there,” he warns. “Last I heard, my little
brother wasn’t quite himself anymore.”
“Shut the fuck up and tell the guards what you want the temperature set
to.”
“No heartfelt goodbyes?” he drawls. “I’m hurt.”
I turn on my heel and walk out just as my phone rings in my pocket. My
mother follows close on my tail. I don’t answer the call until I’m well out of
earshot. I don’t need Konstantin overhearing my conversations. I frown when
I see Alexi’s name pop up on the screen.
“What is it?” I ask the moment I answer.
“It’s Aurora,” he says, sounding very out of breath. “You need to get to
the hospital now. The babies are coming!”
CHAPTER 45
 MIKHAIL

“A urora! Let me through, dammit!”

I shove past the nurses, the doctors, the guards. Anyone who
dares stand in my path is elbowed out of the way.
Her private room is on the fourth floor, tucked away at the very end of the
hall. I find her lying in bed, her hair damp with sweat and her cheeks flushed
bright pink. I go to her immediately, taking her hand and bringing her fingers
to my lips.
“My love, what happened? Are you alright?”
Aurora’s breaths are heavy, her lips parted as she swallows. “Misha…
They…”
Genuine fear unlike anything I have ever known lances through me.
“What is it? Is the baby okay? Talk to me, Aurora. Please.”
“They’re okay,” she says with a tired laugh. “Our daughters are perfectly
healthy.”
“Daughters?”
Just then, two separate nurses walk in, each holding two little ones
swathed in clean pink blankets. They bring the girls over to us, the nearest
nurse gently coaching me on how to hold my daughter while Aurora cradles
the other.
I can’t help but hold my breath as I lift my child into my arms. I am dazed
and in awe and too stunned to speak. They’re so tiny and weightless, yet the
love I have for my children could fill an entire galaxy and beyond. My
daughter yawns wide, her eyes shut tight. She reaches out blindly for
something. When I offer her my finger, it takes her whole hand to wrap
around and grab on tight.
 “My God,” I breathe, astounded.
“I thought they’d be boys,” she murmurs.
“They’re perfect.” I press the softest, lightest of kisses to my baby girl’s
forehead. She coos, so delicate and fragile all I can do is marvel. The nurse
checking Aurora on the other side of the bed chuckles.
“Do you know if twins run in your family?” she asks.
Aurora giggles softly, glancing at me with a big grin. “They do.”
“They’re all perfectly healthy, yes?” I ask the nurse. “Any
complications?”
“None whatsoever. The doctor will be in shortly to go through any
follow-up questions you might have. And there’s a good chance you’ll have
to stay a night or two to keep an eye on the babies since they’re a few weeks
early, but all their vitals are very strong.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“Have you picked out any names? I can have them registered down on the
main floor.”
Aurora and I exchange a look. She speaks first. “We need a bit more time.
We were expecting at least one boy.”
The nurse nods in understanding. “No problem. There’s no rush. I’ll be
back in a little bit to take them to the nursery.”
Once the nurses leave, it’s just the four of us. I sit in the chair, still
buzzing with pleasant surprise. Our little family has now expanded by two,
these adorable little girls now mine to protect.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when it happened,” I murmur. “I should have
been.”
Aurora shakes her head gently. “Think nothing of it, darling. It was as
much a surprise to me as it was for you. I’m pretty sure I gave Alexi a heart
attack when I realized what was going on.”
“It’s official. I’m giving that man a raise.”
The rumble of footsteps racing down the hall reaches my ear. Dimitri
practically skids across the tile floor in his haste, throwing himself into the
room. His hair is a whipped mess and his tie is flung over her shoulder, but I
don’t think he cares. The moment he lays eyes on his nieces, his lips stretch
into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.
Aurora beams. “Meet your Uncle Dimitri, baby girls.”
“Girls?” He claps his hand and laughs.
The sharp click, click, click of stiletto heels announces our next guest. My
mother stands at the doorway, watching us with her usual air of disinterest
and superiority. Catherina glances down at my daughters. For a moment, I
think I see a spark of something almost… warm. But it disappears just as
quickly as it comes, ghosting across her face within a matter of seconds.
“Girls cannot be Bratva heirs,” she says coldly. “What a disappointment.”
Any other day, I would throw her out. This is not the time or place for her
attitude. Luckily for her, I’m too elated about the birth of my little ones to
care. I refuse to let my mother’s unnecessary comments ruin the day.
“You can either sit there in silence, or you may leave,” I tell her. It is all I
say to her before turning in my seat, facing my beautiful wife so Catherina is
out of my view.
The sound of her heels retreating is all I need to hear.
My brother shuffles over. “Jesus, what’s that woman’s problem?” he
grumbles, speaking what everyone’s thinking.
“She’s just in a bad mood because Konstantin finally told us Lev’s
location.”
Aurora’s eyes flit up to mine. “Seriously? Are you sure he’s not leading
you on a wild goose chase?”
“That’s always a possibility, but this is the furthest we’ve gotten in
months. I’ll have some of my men try and verify the information before we
send out a scout.”
Dimitri pats me on the shoulder. “That’s enough business talk, hm? Enjoy
the moment.”
“He’s right,” Aurora says.
“Can I hold her?” he asks me.
I nod, carefully placing my little girl in his arms. “Mind her head.”
“You should probably call Pyotr and Luka,” he suggests. “They’ll want to
know they’re uncles, too.”
I chuckle. “I’m sure they’ll be delighted.”
CHAPTER 46
 AURORA

S andra and Charlotte are fast asleep in their cribs. The twins are only
fourteen weeks old, but their personalities are night and day.
Sandra, the oldest twin by a total of three whole minutes, is probably the
most well-behaved baby on the planet. And I’m not saying that as a proud
and boastful mother, either. She usually sleeps for long stretches and rarely
ever cries. Sandra definitely takes after her father, far more reserved and
serious than her little sister.
Charlotte, on the other hand, is my spitfire. She cries non-stop, is always
hungry, and God help you if you don’t change her diaper as soon as she
needs changing. She’s got an impressive set of lungs on her, so much so I
don’t think Mikhail and I got an ounce of sleep the first few weeks after we
brought her home from the hospital.
My bestie thinks it’s hilarious that her namesake gives me so much
trouble and makes me promise to bring both girls to visit when they are old
enough to fly. For reasons neither of us say out loud, Charlotte will never
return to Russia.
I love both of my girls with all my heart. They are the apple of my eye. I
don’t know how to explain it, but I love them so much that even when I’m in
the same room with them I still somehow miss them. I wake up every
morning excited to see them. The nursery is right across the hall, but it still
feels like a million miles away.
They’re down for their second afternoon nap right now, lying right next
to each other. My twins always find a way to hold each other’s hands, always
wanting to be near. I hope they’ll be this close when they grow up, their
uncles a shining example of what it means to be there for one another. In this
crazy world I’ve brought them into, the only people they can truly rely on is
their family.
A soft knock sounds at the door. I look up to find Mikhail entering
quietly. He smiles and joins me, peering down at our daughters with nothing
but fondness in his eyes.
“I’m glad Charlotte’s finally out,” he murmurs. “When she stopped
crying, I thought I’d gone deaf.”
I lean my head against his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his back.
“Don’t worry. She’ll test your hearing in another hour or so.”
“Oh, I have no doubt.”
“I thought you had meetings to get to today.”
Mikhail presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I need a day off every now
and then.”
I laugh softly. “I guess that’s fair.”
“Besides, I have a gift for you.”
“A gift?”
He nods. “Join me in the office.”
I grab the baby monitor before leaving the room, allowing him to guide
me by the hand to our shared office at the end of the hall. Downstairs, I can
hear the house staff going about their business. I can already smell the dinner
the chef making, and I can hear our maids chatting about the weather while
they dust the living room top to bottom. Outside, I can hear the radio chatter
of the guards talking to one another over a private frequency.
A year ago, I would have thought all this so strange. Now it’s a part of
my everyday life. I appreciate the lengths Mikhail has gone to make my life
as comfortable and secure as possible. He does his best not to bring work
home with him. Once he’s through those front doors, he’s no longer in charge
of the Antonov Bratva. He rarely discusses what he gets up to in the run of
the day. When he’s here, he’s husband and father only—just the way I like.
Though it seems today he’s made an exception.
Sitting on the center of my work desk is a thick yellow envelope. It’s
sealed. I give Mikhail a curious glance.
“Did you write me a book of poetry?” I tease him.
“No.”
“Would you, if I asked?”
“Believe me, my love. The world would be a better place without my
attempts at flowery language.”
 I pick up the envelope, tracing my fingers around the edges. It’s
surprisingly heavy. “What is it?”
He takes a seat in his office chair. He has his own desk set up across from
mine. That way, when we both have work to do, we can still be in full view
of each other.
“I wanted to surprise you,” he says. “I went ahead and hired a private
investigator.”
I furrow my brow, my heart skipping a beat. “What for? When?”
“When we were still in New York.”
“That was ages ago. Why didn’t you say anything?”
He nods. “Because I didn’t know if I was overstepping. But, now that
we’re married, I figured…” Mikhail gestures toward the envelope. “When
you told me about your father, I had him looked into. Turns out, it’s really
hard finding a man with one of the most generic names in North America.”
I take a deep breath, my hands suddenly clammy. “So… You know
what’s in here? You know what it says?”
My husband shakes his head. “No. I told the PI to seal his findings. It’s
not my place to know before you.”
A sticky lump lodges in the back of my throat. In complete honesty, I’ve
been so busy getting used to my life in Russia and my new role as a mother
that finding my father has become an afterthought. Once upon a time, finding
him was all that mattered to me. Now my priorities have shifted. If I’m being
honest with myself, I’m happy with the way things are.
I stare at the envelope, almost as if I’m trying to x-ray straight through it.
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been curious about him. John Foster. A
mysterious figure, practically a myth. This envelope is hefty. I have to
wonder if my mother had good reason for not telling me more about him.
What if he’s got a rap sheet that’s a mile long? What if he’s dead? What if
the PI Mikhail hired got the wrong guy? John Foster is a generic name, and I
literally have no other information about him. At this point, I have two
options: I can open this envelope and finally know the truth, or I can toss it
and live the rest of my life not knowing. There’s a reason people say
ignorance is bliss. Can I make peace with never knowing?
“What should I do?” I ask Mikhail.
“It is your choice to make, my love. Not mine.”
“Okay. But what would you do if you were in my shoes? You know,
hypothetically.”
 Mikhail regards me carefully, his jaw set tight. He is quiet for a long time,
contemplating my question thoroughly, before opening his mouth to say, “I
would want to know. So I could move on one way or another.”
I swallow my doubts and fears. That’s exactly what I was thinking.
Slowly, I rip open the envelope and slip the brick of documents out from
inside. I’m astounded at what I see.
Jonathan Richard Foster. Born April 12th in Seattle, Washington. The
private investigator has apparently included sealed court documents
concerning his entering the foster system at the tender age of seven. A very
troubled childhood, by the looks of it. Poor grades at school, always getting
involved in fights.
His tumultuous behavior was only exacerbated by his constant transfer
from one foster home to the next. It doesn’t look like John had very much
stability in his life, which might explain why he was sent to juvie when he
was only fifteen. He really does have a rap sheet a mile long. Mostly minor
offenses like shoplifting, being a public nuisance, breaking a window, and so
on.
I sink into my chair, my mind blown. My father has always been a
stranger to me. Even though I have a play-by-play of his life in my hands,
he’s still a stranger. A strange buzz lingers on my skin, the aftereffects of my
initial adrenaline rush. As I continue to read page after page, I’m starting to
realize my mother had good reason to never mention him.
Things apparently took a drastic turn for him the moment he turned
eighteen and was forced out of the foster care system. Without a support net
in place, he turned to harder crime. Carjacking, armed robbery, assault. The
man was in and out of prison like it had a revolving front door. No matter
how many times he got out, John couldn’t seem to keep a job, which only
exacerbated his money problems, which led him back to his criminal ways in
a desperate attempt to make a quick buck.
My stomach churns.
This is my father? John’s apparently been behind bars for the last twenty
years on a slew of felony charges. Suddenly, everything makes sense. Some
small part of my brain clicks. When I was a little girl, I always wondered why
he never reached out, never tried to find me. Now I know it’s because he
couldn’t.
I set the file down, numbness washing over me. I’m… not as upset as I
thought I would be. A little disappointed, maybe, but I’m not exactly
heartbroken. It’s a good thing I didn’t have massive expectations, because
this dossier would have broken my heart to bits otherwise.
And now I know. Now I know the truth and I feel…
“Okay,” I murmur.
“My love?”
I smile at my husband, taking in his handsome face and serious eyes.
Through thick and thin, I know I can rely on Mikhail to be there. He’s my
rock, my lighthouse amidst stormy seas. As long as I have him, I know
everything’s going to be okay. The past can remain in the past. All that
matters now is the present and what we make of the future.
I hop out of my seat and walk over to him, allowing Mikhail to wrap his
arms around my waist to pull me into a tight hug. He presses his cheek to my
belly and holds me as I comb my fingers through his hair.
“Thank you, darling.”
“You’re alright?”
I nod, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m perfect,” I say
and mean it with complete sincerity. “I love you, Misha.”
“I love you, too, Aurora.”
Just then, one of the babies starts crying over the baby monitor. My ears
prick. Some people think all crying infants sound the same, but I know in an
instant it’s Charlotte who’s throwing a fuss. Not long after, she gets her sister
going. Now they’re both wailing, crying for our attention.
I take Mikhail’s hand and lead him out the door. “Come on,” I say. “They
need their diapers changed.”
“How can you tell?”
I shrug my shoulders. “A mother can just tell.”
“Perhaps I should—”
“Oh, no you don’t. I changed the last four. You’ve got to start pulling
your weight around here, mister.”
Mikhail grimaces. “This is hardly becoming of a Bratva boss.”
I snort. “Too bad. You’re officially on diaper changing duty.”
“Alright, fine. So bossy.”
“You like it.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I do.”
CHAPTER 47
 MIKHAIL

“D id you pack extra socks?”

Dimitri sighs. “Yes.”
“And don’t forget your sunglasses. Snow blindness is a real thing.”
“I know, Aurora.”
“Oh! I packed some of those hand warmer packets for you. I stuffed them
into your bag.”
“Thank you—”
“And don’t forget that given the current tilt of the earth, there’s no such
thing as nighttime in Pevek, so make sure to use your sleeping mask, or you
won’t get a wink of sleep.”
I chuckle as I step forward, placing my hand on the small of my little
wife’s back. “My brother knows what he’s doing, my love.”
Aurora continues to shove all manner of packaged snacks into Dimitri’s
backpack. “It’s a long trip, so take these in case you get hungry.”
Dimitri raises his brows at me. “Why does she seem more nervous than
us?”
“I just know how big of a deal it is,” she argues. “Just think—you’ll be
seeing your father for the first time in over thirty years.”
I exhale slowly. It is a big deal. We’ve been preparing for this day for
months. It took a while for my informants to provide proof that Konstantin’s
information was legitimate. They had to scour through contact after contact to
ensure the validity. After weeks of waiting, I finally have it on good authority
that Lev really is being held captive somewhere in Pevek. Now I’m sending
Dimitri to retrieve him.
I wanted to personally go myself, but I’m afraid business keeps me in
Moscow. While the transition of power has been relatively smooth, I can’t
afford to leave any time soon without risking my position and the security of
my territory. Most of my uncle’s loyalists have either been dispatched or
have gone into hiding, but they’re honestly the least of my concerns. I’ve
been making good progress working with the other prominent Bratva
families, but I trust them as far as I can throw them. There’s always someone,
some group waiting for the opportunity to strike and steam roll all the
progress I’ve made.
We’re at a private airport, the jet I chartered preparing for takeoff.
Dimitri’s bundled up in several layers. In fact, we all are. It’s the dead of
winter, and the threat of frostbite where Dimitri’s going is very, very real.
Catherina steps out of the car in a puffy white fur coat and a pair of non-
slip boots. She pulls on her maroon leather gloves, looking as severe and
bitchy as always. She starts towards the jet without so much as a goodbye.
“Move it, Dimitri,” she says over her shoulder. “There’s no time like the
present.”
My younger brother shoots me a bitter glare. “Remind me again why I
have to bring her along?”
“She’s eager to see her husband,” Aurora says gently. Even though I
know they don’t get along, my wife still tries to be kind. Her good heart is
one of the many things I love about her.
Dimitri gives me a brief hug before moving to kiss Aurora on the cheek.
“Make sure to show Sandra and Charlotte my picture every day. I don’t want
them to forget their uncle’s face.”
I roll my eyes. “You’ll be gone for a couple of days, max.”
“Yes, but babies aren’t exactly known for their stellar memories.”
“Would you get on the damn plane? I’m freezing my ass off out here.”
Dimitri laughs. “Alright, alright. Bon voyage and all that good stuff.”
“We’ll see you when you get back.”
Aurora and I watch as Dimitri and Catherina board the plane. We remain
until it takes off, taking to the skies within a matter of minutes. As I watch
the jet shrink into nothing more than a dot over the horizon, eventually
disappearing above the clouds, a flicker of hope burns in my chest. My
informant was only able to confirm my father’s last known location, but they
were unable to determine his state of being.
Locked away for decades… I can’t imagine what that kind of isolation
does to a man. My memories of him are fuzzy to begin with. There’s a very
good chance he won’t be the same. I genuinely don’t know what to expect.
“Come on, darling,” Aurora says. “We have to get back to the kids.”

Home.
It’s something I take great pride in. Long gone are the days of my cold,
overly spacious penthouse apartment in New York. Now I much prefer our
humble abode, full of color and life and noise. My little ones spend most of
their time sleeping the day away, but I find great comfort in their peace and
rest. My wife and children keep me grounded—something I won’t ever take
for granted.
My mind is often in turmoil, working around the clock. Territory
disputes, business negotiations, keeping my own me in check… It takes its
toll sometimes. Sometimes I lay awake at night, always thinking about the
next step. There are so many moving parts, so many allies and enemies and
neutral parties to factor into my calculations.
“Here,” Aurora says, handing me a glass of whisky.
She joins me on the couch. The fireplace crackles, the warmth seeping
into my skin even at this distance. Sandra and Charlotte are in their crib right
beside us, always within reach.
“What’s on your mind?” she asks me, because she knows. My wife
always knows.
“Just… thinking about life.”
Aurora chuckles. “Heavy stuff.”
“I’ll say.”
“Would you like to tell me about it?” She leans over and kisses the curve
of my shoulder. “Ease your burden a little.”
I adore this woman. I know two languages, and there still aren’t enough
words to describe how much I love her.
“Are you happy here?” I ask her. “Is this where you thought you’d see
yourself?”
Aurora smiles. “No, I don’t think I could ever have imagined life turning
out this way, but I am happy.” Her smile falls as she studies me. “What’s this
about, Misha?”
“I just want to know that you don’t regret it. Being with me and what that
entails.”
Aurora cups my face and presses a tender kiss to my lips. “You silly man.
I don’t regret a thing.”
“You promise?”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
I grin. “No. Never.”
“And that’s not about to change any time soon.”
Setting my drink down on the coffee table, I pull Aurora onto my lap. She
straddles me between her thighs, her chest pressed to mine. She hums
contentedly, the corners of her lips pulling up into a mischievous smile.
“As long as I’m with you,” she says, “I’m as happy as I can be.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I reply, kissing her with all I’m worth.
EPILOGUE
 AURORA

M y favorite days are when Mikhail gets to stay home. I’ve very quickly
discovered he’s very much a proud girl dad. Now that our twins are
old enough to crawl around, I’ll more often than not find him on the floor
with them, corralling them on their large playmat on the living room floor.
By the time I finish running updates on our secured email servers and
make my way downstairs, I find my husband lying on the playmat with our
girls, a book propped open in his hands. Charlotte lies face-down on his
chest, gripping his shirt with all the strength her tiny hands can muster.
Sandra sits upright next to him, staring at the book’s colorful illustrations.
“Dada,” he reads, pointing at the word printed on the page. “Can you say
Dada?”
Sandra and Charlotte babble, but they don’t form any coherent sounds.
“Come on, my loves. You can do it. Da-da.”
I laugh, joining my family on the floor. Sandra immediately crawls over
to me, a big smile on her face. I pick her up in my arms and kiss her cute little
cheeks. “You really want Dada to be their first word, huh?”
“You were here when they first rolled over,” he points out. “I should be
their first word. It’s only fair.”
“Oh, is that how that works?”
He nods, returning his attention to the book. The page is full of barnyard
animals, little babies and their fathers with anthropomorphic faces. “Dada,”
Mikhail tries again.
I kiss the top of my daughter’s hair. “How about it, princess? If you say
it, Dada will be over the moon.”
“Ma…” Sandra coos. “Mama.”
 I burst into a fit of laughter, hugging my little girl close as warmth
blooms in my chest. “That’s right, baby. I’m your Mama.”
“Hold on, hold on,” he says, laughing too. “I’m one for two. Let me try
again. Charlotte—Dada. Say Dada. Come on, honey. Don’t let me down.”
Charlotte peers up at her father with her big blue eyes. She opens her
mouth, reaching up with her little hand to tangle her fingers in Mikhail’s
beard. “Mama,” she says.
The look on Mikhail’s face makes me lose it all over again.
“I’m wounded,” he says, but the amusement is clear in his voice. “This is
the ultimate betrayal. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to recover from this.”
Charlotte crawls over to me and joins her sister on my lap. I wrap my
arms around them, delighted as can be.
“I’m sure you’ll live,” I tease him.
Mikhail shakes his head, hand over his bleeding heart. “No, it makes
sense. You’re my favorite, too.”
“You’re such a sap.”
“Your sap.”
I roll my eyes. “Help me up? It’s about time they had their afternoon
snack. You know how they get when they’re even the slightest bit hungry.”
Mikhail takes Sandra while I hold onto Charlotte. He offers me his hand,
helping me rise to my feet. In the kitchen, the chef is in the middle of getting
dinner ready. One quick nod from Mikhail is all it takes to send him out for a
little while.
We set our daughters in their highchairs at the kitchen island, working
together to get their bibs on. It’s a team effort. Sandra takes it like a champ,
sitting still like the little angel she is. Charlotte, on the other hand, seems to
think her bib is some sort of punishment. She squirms relentlessly and cries
when we get it on.
Mikhail only chuckles. “You don’t want to wear your food, princess.”
I hand him a jar of mashed plums and a plastic spoon. “Have you heard
anything from your brothers lately?” I ask as I feed Sandra little amounts at a
time.
My husband makes faces while he tries feeding Charlotte, his brows
furrowed in pure concentration. “Dimitri sent me a text this morning. He’s
still in Saint Petersburg overseeing the peace talks between the Fedorovs and
the Bortniks.”
“Why did he need to go as an intermediary again?”
 Mikhail manages to feed Charlotte a spoonful. She doesn’t spit any of it
up. “They needed a neutral party there as a witness. And with the Antonov’s
firepower and influence, they’ll be less inclined to try anything stupid. I
mean, they’re welcome to try, but it won’t serve them to be at war with us.”
“I hope Dimitri will be okay.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine. I know he’s a goof, but he can be serious when he
has to.”
“And what about Pyotr? I read about the CyberFort-Frost Security merger
online this morning. Sounds like they’re getting closer to striking a deal.”
Mikhail shrugs. “Pyotr rarely has time to message me, but I think it’s
going to be alright. It’s not the first time we’ve bought out a smaller
company.”
“And Luka?”
My husband smiles. “Oh, he never talks to me anymore.”
I furrow my brow. “No?”
“You know him. Much too grumpy to send a thinking of you text.”
I laugh. “You’re right. That’d be too out of character.” I sober a bit and
ask, “And what about your mother?”
Mikhail frowns as he answers. “Not since last week. It hurts her to
discuss the changes in my father. He’s not the same man…”
“After all he’s been through, and for so long, it’s no surprise he’s a
different man,” I murmur, squeezing his hand. He nods and smiles at me, and
I tell him, “Your mother will get through to him. For all her faults, she loves
your father more than anything. She’ll get through to him.”
“I hope so.”
With their snacks eaten and their bellies full, it’s time to take my
daughters upstairs to the nursery for their nap. They’ll likely be up again in a
couple of hours, but it will give Mikhail and me a little quiet time we so
desperately deserve.
I admire Mikhail’s strong back as he lays our daughters down, one by
one, in their cribs. It never ceases to amaze me seeing such a powerful man
be as tender and careful as he is with our children. It doesn’t take Sandra and
Charlotte very long before their little eyes drift close, hopefully nothing but
the sweetest dreams playing inside their heads.
The moment we step out into the hall and shut the nursery door closed,
Mikhail has one arm wrapped around my middle. He pulls me close, stepping
forward to pin my back against the opposite wall. His kiss comes feverishly,
possessively. I can’t help but moan against him, my body canting towards
him out of instinct.
I know the shape of his body and the press of his weight. Everything
about him is familiar and safe—and it’s for those reasons that he makes me
feel feral. I hook a leg over his hip, welcoming the hard press of his cock
against the inside of my thigh.
“What do you say, kitten? Should we give the twins a little brother or
sister to play with?”
I smirk. “I’m ready when you are, sir.”

The End

I hope you enjoyed Mikhail and Aurora’s love story. Great news you can
fast forward in the future into their happily ever after HERE.

Check out Mikhail brother’s romance in Dimtri’s story HERE.

Last but certainly not least, included a special sneak peek on the next
page for another mafia romance. Check out Irish King, an Amazon Top
75 bestseller, on the next page!
IRISH KING (PREVIEW)
 My plan for infiltrating the Irish mafia?
Find a soldier. Flirt my way in the door. And save my best friend.
But that's when a jaw dropping silver-haired man noticed me.
And he's no soldier. He's next in line for the mafia throne.
 Connor is determined to bring me down.
And I'm prepared to make his life h*ll.
Except there's one small problem: an attraction so intense it can't be ignored.
Not to mention he's old enough to be my father.

How am I supposed to save my best friend's life...

When all I can think about is Connor's eyes scanning my body...
Threatening to devour every inch of me whole?
CHAPTER 1
 CLAIRE

T wo months ago…
“You can’t be serious. You got a job at a strip club? Katherine,
please tell me this is some kind of joke.”
Katherine Sampson, my best friend from high school, smiled in that
confident, unflappable way she always did. Even though I wasn’t happy in
the slightest about what she’d just said, I did have to admit that she had what
it took to work at Pussycats, one of the swankiest gentlemen’s clubs in the
city.
Katherine was tall and gorgeous, with long, black hair, big boobs, a heart-
shaped ass, and the body of an Instagram fitness influencer. On top of it all
she knew what she was working with. While I’d never had the best luck with
guys, Katherine practically needed a flamethrower to keep them away.
“I’m very serious.” She stood in front of her closet dressed in a pair of
short jean shorts, her bra and nothing else. She languidly flipped through her
clothes. “I swear, a closet full of stuff and not a thing that’s going to work on
stage. I’m going to have to buy a whole new wardrobe.”
She turned, flashing me another smile.
“And when I’m pulling in fifteen hundred a week, I’m going to have the
money for it.”
“Katherine,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “Seriously.”
She grinned in a way that let me know without a doubt that my words
weren’t having any effect.
“You always say my name like that when you’re in full schoolmarm
mode. Did I ever tell you that?”
“I’m not being a schoolmarm; I’m being someone who’s concerned about
you! Katherine, seriously…"
She raised her finger, arching her sculpted, dark eyebrows. “If you’re
going to waste your breath lecturing me, can you at least start using my stage
name? I need to get used to people calling me by it.”
“You have a stage name?” This was getting more insane by the second.
“Of course, I do. What, do you think I’m going to get up there to dance
and the DJ’s going to say, ‘let’s give it up for Katherine’!” She laughed her
easy, melodious laugh at the mere suggestion of it. “Please.”
I let out a sigh, shaking my head in disbelief at just how crazy the whole
situation was. “OK, I’ll bite. What’s your stage name?”
Instead of answering me, she jumped into the middle of the room, struck
a pose, then started dancing.
“Kiki, do you love me? Are you riding? Say you’ll never, ever leave from
beside me.” When she was done with her dance, Katherine burst out
laughing.
“Wait, is that the Drake song?”
Still smiling, she sat down on the edge of her bed, reaching for a pair of
high-heeled black shoes—the kind that no other woman in the history of the
world had worn other than strippers.
“Only you would need to ask a question like that.”
“So… Kiki?”
She smiled and nodded, sitting down on the bed to put on her shoes. “I
think it’s got a nice ring to it. And it’s not too dissimilar from Katherine, so I
won’t have too much trouble getting used to it.”
I said nothing, watching as my friend, the girl I’d known since we were
both kids, dressed in minimal clothing and prepared to strip on stage.
“This isn’t a good idea,” I said. “You’re—”
Katherine shot a hard look toward me, her eyes flashing.
“I’m what? I’m wasting my time making money when I should be, I don’t
know, bartending or waitressing, barely making ends meet?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just that this line of work can be a dangerous field.
You have no idea what you might be getting into.”
Another hard look. “Yeah, I have no idea, but you do, right? Brilliant
Claire, always knows what’s best for everyone, huh?” Her tone took on a
sharp edge as she said the words. As soon as they were out of her mouth,
however, her composure fell, and she let out a sigh. “Sorry, that was out of
line.”
 “No, you’re right. I mean, I do kind of have a tendency to think I know
what’s right for everyone.”
“Then why not let me make my own decisions? You know, actually trust
that I’ve put some thought into what I’m doing? This job could be my ticket
out of this life.” She swept her hand at her surroundings, the shabby
Dorchester studio apartment where she’d been living for the last year. “I
would be able to afford to live somewhere safer, start taking classes again,
and make something of myself, you know?”
“I get it.” I moved over to the bed, sitting down next to her. “I really do.
And it’s not a matter of me thinking you’re rushing into this decision without
thinking it through. It’s a matter of me knowing things that you couldn’t
possibly know. This club, Pussycats? It sounded familiar when you told me
the name and now I know why.”
“Because you’re one of their regulars?” Katherine flashed me a sly smile.
I laughed. She had always been good at lightening up a dark mood like
that.
“No, it’s because I remember it from a case I took a while back. There’s
rumors that this club, and others around town, are owned by the Irish Mob.”
It was her turn to laugh. “The Irish mob? What is this, a Scorsese
movie?”
“I know the mob seems like this old-school thing, Kat, but we live in
Boston—the Irish mob has been around since Ellis Island days and still
exists, still has its fingers here and there around town. Strip clubs are popular
with more unscrupulous types because they’re the perfect money laundering
setup.”
“OK, well, you know your stuff when it comes to the law. But I went
there and interviewed, and everything seemed totally on the up and up. The
guy I talked with was professional, and the clientele appeared to be either rich
business types wanting to impress clients, or crypto nerds who don’t mind
paying a pretty girl good money for a little attention. Not to mention the
house rule is one-hundred percent hands-off—they can’t touch me unless I
want them to.”
I shifted in my seat. “You’re an adult, and I’m not going to tell you what
to do. But you do understand that I’m just looking out for you, right?”
Katherine smiled warmly, placing her hand on my shoulder.
“I do. You’ve always looked out for me. Hell, we’ve always looked out
for each other.”
 “Yup. And I hope you don’t think that’s going to change any time soon.”
“I know you’re as stubborn as you are smart. And I love that about you.
But this is something I have to do. Trust me, I know what I’m doing. This job
is going to get me where I need to be.”
I couldn’t help but smile, opening my arms and throwing them around
her.
“I love you, Kat.”
She hugged me back. “I love you, too. Even when you’re a know-it-all.”

Present day…
“Come on!” I banged on the door with both hands.
“Hold on, geez.” A soft, silky voice came from inside the apartment. The
fancy, electronic lock on the door opened with a click.
The woman who greeted me was stunningly beautiful. She had cinnamon
colored skin and eyes so deep and dark and sensual that I simply stared for a
moment. While she was petite in stature, there was nothing small about her
assets. The girl was stacked, with big boobs and a butt so round it almost
didn’t seem real. She was dressed in a black negligee, her feet bare and her
toes painted a glittery silver. On her neck was a fancy diamond necklace so
expensive looking that it somehow managed to draw attention away from her
boobs instead of the other way around.
She looked me up and down with an annoyed expression, not bothering at
all to hide how irritated she was.
“Yes?”
“Hi, I’m Claire, Katherine’s friend.”
The girl cocked her head to the side. “Katherine?”
I pursed my lips, remembering that this girl was not only Kat’s
roommate, but a fellow dancer over at Pussycats.
“Kiki. I’m Kiki’s best friend.” It’d been a couple of months since Kat had
started her new job, and I hadn’t even gotten close to being used to calling
her that.
She looked me up and down a few more times. “You’re her best friend?
Then why haven’t I seen you before?”
As she spoke, I glanced over her shoulder in an attempt to get a better
look at the apartment. The building it was in was sleek and modern, and
situated on the thirteenth floor of one of the new condo buildings that had
been sprouting up near the waterfront downtown. The tall windows looked
out over the aquarium and the North End neighborhood. The interior,
however, was another matter. There were take-out containers here and there,
along with clothes tossed haphazardly on the back of furniture, bottles of one
kind of booze or another on the table in front of the big TV where some
reality show was playing on mute.
The mess was strange and unlike Kat. Although she may have led a more
unconventional life than most, that didn’t mean she wasn’t tidy.
“Because when you’re a nine-to-fiver and your friend starts her shift at
ten P.M., that doesn’t exactly make meeting up for coffee easy.”
She cocked her hip to the side, still regarding me with skeptical eyes.
“Listen, I don’t know you. If you want to see Kiki, I’ll tell her that you’re
looking for her.”
“You know what? I don’t have time for this.”
I stepped forward as I spoke, blasting past the woman and barging into
the apartment.
“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Looking for my friend. You want to call the cops? Go ahead.”
The woman let out a sound of indignant annoyance as I made my way
into the apartment. The living room led to a small hallway, a bathroom at the
end and two doors on either side.
“Which one’s hers?”
I glanced over my shoulder, the roommate pursing her lips and looking as
if she was trying to decide whether or not she wanted to bring the police into
the matter.
“Call the cops,” I said again, taunting her, challenging her. “Unless
there’s a reason why you don’t want to talk to them. Hell, maybe I’ll go
ahead and call them.” I slipped my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans,
holding it up. “It’s been more than two days since I’ve heard a word from
her, and we talk at least once every day; I could technically report her as a
missing person.”
The woman’s eyes flashed, panic appearing on her face for the first time
since I’d arrived. Her expression told me two things—that something was up,
and that that something was most likely illegal.
“She’s the room on the right. Just find what you’re looking for and
leave.”
She was trying to act as if she had the upper hand in the situation, but
with every word that came out of her mouth, I became more certain that
something was amiss and that she knew more than she was letting on.
I hurried into the room on the right, a small bedroom with floor-to-ceiling
windows, a little balcony big enough for two chairs and a small table on the
other side. The room was a mess, clothes strewn everywhere as if Katherine
had been there and packed in a hurry. Aside from the disorder, there was
nothing personal about the space—no art on the wall, no personal mementos
or pictures that indicated the room was used for anything but sleeping.
I poked around, lifting up scattered clothes, trying to find any sign of Kat.
But I found nothing—no keys, no purse, no money, nothing. As I looked
around, I felt the back of my neck burn the way it did when someone was
watching you. I turned to see Kat’s roommate standing at the bedroom door,
her arms crossed and a worried expression on her face.
“What’s your name?” I asked. I slipped into lawyer mode; my tone sharp.
“Um, Diamond.” No doubt that wasn’t her real name. Didn’t matter.
I stepped over to her. “Here’s what we’re going to do, Diamond. You and
I are going to cut the bullshit, and you’re going to tell me what happened to
Kat.”
A flash of her previous indignation returned. “She was here one day then
she just left.”
“She just left? Without a word?”
Diamond crossed her arms under her big boobs. “That’s what I said.”
“And what about work? Has she been going? Or did she just stop
showing up there, too?”
Her eyes flicked to the side, a telltale sign that someone was about to try
to feed you a line of BS.
“Uh, she had her Friday night shift and then she was gone. That’s the last
time I saw her.”
“So did she leave from here or from work?”
It was the oldest cross-examination trick in the book. Most people
weren’t very good liars even though most thought they were. One of the
easiest ways to catch someone in the middle of spinning you a tale was to
give them the chance to say one thing, then try to trip them up by asking for
details and specifics. Ninety percent of the time, they’d stumble over their
own words trying to remember what they said. The other ten percent of the
time, you were dealing with a true-blue sociopath that had no qualms about
looking you dead in the eye and lying.
Diamond, sassy as she might’ve been, was no sociopath.
“She was… here. Right here. I mean, on the couch watching TV. Then
she started acting all weird, went to grab her stuff. Then she was gone.”
If I had Diamond on the stand, I could’ve poked a million holes in her
story. I didn’t have time for that, however.
I nodded toward her gaudy diamond necklace.
“Pretty nice bling you got there. You must be pulling in some nice cash.
That is, unless you have a rich admirer.”
Diamond’s hand went to her necklace. She held it protectively, as if I
might run over and snatch it from her at any second.
“I bought this myself. I don’t care if you believe me or not.”
I looked at her for a moment without saying a word, noticing a thin sheen
of sweat forming on her forehead. “So, they weren’t a gift from someone?
Someone who maybe did something to Kat and wanted you to keep quiet
about it?” I kept my voice even though my blood was running hot through
my veins. Tears formed in Diamond’s eyes, her lower lip shaking. Finally,
she burst into sobs.
“I… I didn’t know what else to do! I screwed up!”
A box of tissues was nearby, and I hurried over to grab them, pulling a
couple out and giving them to her. As Diamond wiped her eyes, I got a good
sense of the type of woman I was dealing with; maybe a little arrogant from
all the money and attention she was accustomed to, but deep down sharp
enough to realize when she was in over her head.
“It was Eddie.”
My gut tensed. I’d done my research into Pussycats, learning the names
of the handful of Irish mafia guys who ran the joint. But I wanted to be sure.
“Eddie who?”
“Eddie Coonan.”
And there it was. Eddie Coonan was the boss here in town, a man as
brutal as he was powerful. Pussycats was one of the many businesses he had
his hands in around Boston. If Kat had found her way on to his bad side…
I pushed the thought out of my head, focusing on the conversation at
hand.
“Eddie Coonan. I know the guy.”
She brought her brown eyes, still heavy with tears, up to me.
 “You do?”
I nodded. “Yep. I’m a defense attorney. You don’t work in the law in any
capacity in this town without hearing the name Eddie Coonan.”
“Then you know what he’s capable of.”
“I sure do. And it might not seem like it right now, but I’m one of the
good guys. Most importantly, I want nothing more than to make sure Kat,
Kiki, is safe.
Diamond wiped her eyes one more time, her slow nod suggesting that I’d
won her over.
“A week or so ago, Kiki told me that she’d overheard a conversation
between a couple of the guys, something she wasn’t supposed to hear.”
“What kind of conversation?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. She didn’t tell me. Whatever it was
she was worried, looked more scared than I’d ever seen her.”
“OK, then what happened?”
Diamond tensed up. There was no doubt in my mind that what she was
about to say next wasn’t anything I’d want to hear.
“Diamond, tell me.” I spoke in my lawyer voice, the one I used when I
wasn’t messing around.
She pursed her lips and nodded once more.
“Eddie started coming around the club, talking to the girls. At first, I
thought he just wanted one of us like he normally does.”
“Like he normally does? What does that mean?”
“Every now and then, he’ll come by the club to… check out the new
girls. He’ll find one he likes, tell her that they are going to be spending some
time together.”
The idea of a sleazy, ruthless man like Eddie treating women like that was
enough to make my stomach turn.
“I get the idea. Tell me what happened.”
“Somehow it’d gotten back to him that one of the girls had overheard
something. Guess one of them caught sight of Kiki listening in. Eddie wanted
to talk to all of us personally, see what we knew. He asked me to come with
him for a ride. I didn’t want to say anything at first, but when he parked in
front of Boston Diamonds and said he’d treat me, I…”
“You sold out your friend for jewelry?”
Her eyes flashed with panic.
“You don’t get it! You don’t know Eddie like I do. That’s how he
operates. First, he tries to butter you up, get what he wants with money. And
if that doesn’t work…”
“The old carrot and stick routine.”
“Huh?” Confusion formed on her face, and I could tell she didn’t have
any idea what I was talking about.
“Never mind. Go on.”
“I figured that if I was in trouble, I might as well get something out of
him grilling me other than a beating, you know?”
“What happened?”
“I told him. I told him that Kiki was the one who’d listened in on the
conversation. He was so scary. You don’t understand. Even when he’s nice,
he’s scary, even worse, actually.”
“And then what happened?”
“Nothing at first, but then two days ago, Kiki vanished.”
“Did she leave on her own? Or did they take her?”
She shook her head again. “I… I don’t know.” Diamond began sobbing
once more. “I swear, I didn’t want anything to happen to her!”
Once more, I pushed aside my anger at what I was hearing. Judging by
Diamond’s heavy crying, I got the sense that I wasn’t going to get any more
out of her.
“Listen to me. You need to quit that place and get out of town.”
She lifted her eyes, regarding me with an expression of bemusement.
“Quit?” she shook her head. “You don’t understand; I can’t quit. All
this,” she swept her hand toward the apartment around her, “I can only afford
this because I work at Pussycats.”
“Is all this worth your roommate’s life?” I asked her.
She stared blankly back at me and I knew I’d get no more from her. I
blew past Diamond, eager to get out of the apartment and figure out my next
step.
Once in the elevator, I reflected on what I’d seen, what I’d heard.
God, Kat. Why the hell did you have to go and get mixed up with a guy
like Eddie? You’re smarter than that.
I knew Eddie, knew him and the guys he had underneath him. They were
rich, powerful, and had no issues doing whatever they had to in order to get
what they wanted. Most importantly, they were nearly untouchable.
Didn’t matter. I had to find my friend.
But how?
CHAPTER 2
 CONNOR

I could tell by the whimpering that the woman on the other side of the door
was in pain.
It turned my stomach.
I’d dealt with violence most of my life and I wouldn’t have survived in
this world as long as I had without developing a thick skin. Going after
women, however, was where I drew the line.
Moreover, it was pointless. The woman hadn’t said a word that Eddie
didn’t already know. She’d heard something about the upcoming deal with
the cartel and may or may not have told anyone else. She’d sworn she hadn’t
uttered a word to anyone, but that hadn’t mattered. She’d spent three damn
days in that little room with nothing more than a bottle of water a day and a
few bites of food here and there.
“Pulling off-hours guard duty, my boy?”
I turned away from the door, toward the set of stairs that led up to the
offices on the upper floors. A pair of polished, black dress shoes appeared,
then dark blue slacks, followed by a matching suit jacket. Last to appear was
the smiling face of Eddie Coonan, my boss and head of the family.
Eddie was tall and heavy, a far cry from his younger days. With his thick
frame and fleshy face, it was hard to imagine that his nickname had been
“skinny Eddie” when he was younger, during his coming-up days. His green
eyes, situated in an unmistakably Irish face of fair skin and ruddy features,
still glimmered with the sort of scheming intelligence one would need to
make it to the top of an organization like ours.
There was no denying that he looked older than his sixty-four years. The
way he wheezed as he eased himself down the stairs didn’t inspire much
confidence in his health, either. Even so, he carried himself with the bearing
of a man in charge, a man not to be trifled with.
Behind Eddie was Frank Horrigan, Eddie’s personal bodyguard. The man
was vicious—a lion dressed up in an expensive suit, his eyes dark and
lifeless. He was still and silent as he always was, his hands clasped before
him as he came to a stop behind Eddie, his long, fire-red hair tied into its
usual ponytail. Frank appeared calm but I knew the sort of violence he was
capable of—I’d seen it in person.
“Just checking in on our guest. It sounds like she’s not having a good
time in there.” I replied.
“That’s sort of the idea, Connor.” Eddie spoke in the same Dublin accent
that I did. Though, after years of living in the states, mine had mellowed a bit.
Not Eddie’s, the man sounded fresh off the boat. “That’s not a spa room on
the other side of that door.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ Flannigan.
Running his mouth again, trying to look big to the girls at the club, hoping
one of them might get starry-eyed and give him a little pussy for being such a
big, well-connected man.”
“Flannigan,” I said. “Where is he?”
“Don’t worry about him.” Frank spoke as if his words were frozen, icicles
hanging off of them. He’d said enough to give me a damn good idea about
the fate of our friend Flannigan.
Eddie stepped over to the door, craning his neck to listen. More whimpers
came from the other side.
“Maybe we ought to just kill her,” Eddie said. “Sure as hell would be
easier than letting her go with what she knows.”
Frank’s placid face animated with eagerness as if a button had been
pressed.
“Give me two minutes, I’ll get it done. Two hours, and her body will
never be found.”
Eddie chuckled, as if the idea of disposing of the girl were nothing more
than a joke to him.
“Easy, Frankie,” he said, patting his guard on the shoulder. “When I
decide, you’ll be the first to know.”
I had to say something. “We’re not in the business of killing women,
Eddie.”
“We are when we need to be,” Eddie replied. “And why are you sticking
up for her? You sweet on the lass? If so, you should’ve said something. I
would’ve let you have a little fun with her before Frank roughed her up.”
My gut clenched once more at his words. Sure, Pussycats was a strip
club, but the way Eddie talked about the women who worked there never
failed to make me sick. One of the many reasons the old man had been losing
his shine in my eyes over the years.
“Just saying,” I said. “You let her go, give her a little money to keep her
quiet, and that’ll be the end of it. No sense in taking a life over what she did.
Poor girl didn’t ask to be pulled into any of this.”
“Aye, you’re right about that. But she did get pulled into this. Fate has a
way of taking you places you never expected. And for this young woman,
fate brought her right here.” He tapped on the door with a thick finger that
looked like a sausage with a gold ring wrapped around it. He shrugged.
“Besides, she’s a stripper, Connor—barely more than a common whore on
the street. Funny how these girls will dress themselves up in diamonds and
expensive clothes thinking it makes them better than a streetwalker who’ll
suck off any John with a twenty in his pocket.”
Once more, I fought back the disgust I felt in the moment.
“Just saying, boss, if there’s more information you want to get out of her,
then it might be a good idea to show her a little good will.”
Eddie nodded slowly, giving the matter some thought.
“I swear, boy, your heart’s getting too soft these days. Look at you,
sweating bullets over the idea of some lass losing her life.” He sighed. “But
you have a point. Here’s the deal—you want to keep the bitch alive so badly,
you can take care of her. Anyway, I’ve got shite to do. Come on, Frank.”
Eddie gave me one more look before he left that suggested his opinion of
me had changed a bit, that he wasn’t quite sure of what to make of me in that
moment. Seconds later he was gone, relief washing over me at how I’d
managed to buy the girl on the other side of the door a little more time.
Hopefully, that would be enough to give me a chance to figure out how to get
her out of there alive.
Before I could think another thought, a hard clap hit my shoulder.
“Now, now look at the brand, spanking-new babysitter!”
I didn’t need to turn to know that my little brother, Kellan, had just joined
me.
“Keep the bullshite to yourself, Kel. I’m not in the mood right now.”
He hurried around me, hopping up to sit on the side table that adorned the
well-appointed hall. Kellan and I were damn near spitting images of one
another, both with the same tall, broad-shouldered physique, along with the
same dark red, wavy hair—though his was worn close-cropped rather than
the slightly longer style I preferred and mine was shot through with thick
streaks of silver. Unlike me, with our Ma’s ice blue eyes, his were the dark
green of our Irish father’s. Kellan was dressed in brown leather loafers, fitted,
light blue slacks and a crisp, white button-up, the sleeves rolled to his
forearms. His face was alive with his usual enthusiasm and cheeky attitude.
“I can tell what kind of a mood you’re in,” Kellan said. “One that’s going
to get you on the boss’ bad side if you’re not careful.”
“I’d ask if you were listening in, but I know my little brother.”
“Couldn’t help it. Had to resist the urge to jump in and stop you from
saying something stupid. What’s the story? You taking a shine to the girl in
there?” He nodded toward the door.
“It’s not a matter of taking a shine to her,” I said. “More about not
wanting to kill an innocent person.”
“Yeah, I don’t like it any more than you.”
“Then you should’ve stepped in instead of spying. Could’ve used your
help talking the old man out of what he wanted to do.”
“Sounded like you didn’t need my help at all. Besides, if we were
together on it that would’ve meant we’d both be on the hook for babysitting.
No thank you.”
I glanced away, the events of the last twenty minutes washing over me.
“Oh no,” Kellan said. “I don’t like when you get that look, not at all.
Means that you’re thinking about things.”
“That’s because I am. You ever feel that this life ain’t all it’s cracked up
to be?”
“What, you mean the money, the nice clothes, the cars and the beautiful
women?”
“Come on, Kel, you know there’s more to it than that. The money’s blood
money, and all the shite we’ve got has been bought with it. And the
women…” I nodded toward the door. “This is the dark side of that.”
Kellan flashed me a look of confusion. “Years in this business and you’re
just now having second thoughts?”
“It’s not second thoughts. More… misgivings about the direction the old
man’s been taking things. Something’s strange with Eddie lately. The boss I
knew wouldn’t have tossed some poor girl into a room like this and
considered “offing” her for the crime of listening in on something that she
shouldn’t have.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Eddie’s always been that way. The
difference is that now you and I are high enough in the ranks to see it on the
regular.”
Maybe he was right.
“Either way, I’m not happy. They’ve been starving that girl, trying to
break her. It’s disgusting.”
Kellan sighed, running his hand over his hair. “I agree. Believe it or not,
I’m right there with you, Connor. But… this is our life, you know? It’s all we
know how to do.”
“So, I’m just supposed to ignore something like this?”
“I don’t know, brother. You’re going to do what you’re going to do. But
if you’re getting this bent out of shape about the darker side of our business it
might be time to rethink things. All the same, do it on your own stage. Last
thing you or I need is to have the boss looking at us side eyed.”
He was right about that. Eddie getting the impression that I was having
misgivings about the life wouldn’t do me or Kellan any favors.
“Anyway.” Kellan hopped off his seat. “Ma got in touch with me earlier,
wanted me to ask if you’d be up for dinner at her place tonight. Should I give
her the go-ahead?”
I laughed. “You say that as if I’ve got a choice in the matter. You know
damn well that if I told her I wasn’t coming she’d blow my phone up until I
gave in.”
“That’s a good lad,” he said, clapping his hand on my shoulder one more
time as he passed. “I’ll give her the good news. And good luck with the
babysitting, brother.”
With that, he headed down the hall and was gone. I was alone once more,
staring at the door in front of me.
“Christ,” I said under my breath. “What the hell was I thinking?”
I slipped my phone out of my pocket and dialed in an order for a couple
of sandwiches from Shaun’s, a place down the block. Once that was done, I
washed up and grabbed some waters from the bar on the main floor of the
place. The sandwiches arrived and, those in hand, I returned to the door. I
was going to feed the girl, give her something more than the bits of nothing
she’d been living off for the last few days.
Maybe I could get her to talk, to say something that could get her out of
this situation. Either way, I wasn’t going to let her die without doing my part
to prevent it. I unlocked the door and stepped inside.
CHAPTER 3
 CONNOR

H
spunk.
er eyes flashed with fear as I entered.
“What the fuck do you want?” I almost laughed. The lass had

She hurried over to the corner of the room, putting as much space
between herself and me as possible. I took a moment to look around, to note
the state of the room. The place was dingy, with cracked paint on the walls,
the harsh halogen lights above allowing every bit of dirt, grime and mold to
be seen. It was empty other than a table with a folding chair on either side
and a crumpled-up bedroll. The sorry state of the room was a sharp contrast
to the rest of the club, which was all luxury and old-school décor.
It made me sick to realize that this poor girl had spent the last few days in
there, each moment consumed by the question of whether or not her next one
would be her last.
“Easy.” I stepped over to the table, placing the bag and waters on top of
it. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
She snorted. “Yeah, I bet.”
The girl, Kiki, looked rough. She was dirty and disheveled, her lip
swollen and her cheek bruised. Even so, her beauty shined through.
An idea occurred to me.
“Listen, I just want to talk—that’s all.” I nodded toward the bag of food.
“Brought something good to eat. Thought you might be in the mood for a real
meal. But what do you say to getting out of here, if only for a little while?”
“Getting out of here?”
“Yeah. There’s a room just down the hall, a little nicer than this one. I
can’t keep you there forever, but I thought it might be nice for a change of
scenery. At least while you eat your food, and we talk.”
She regarded me with entirely justifiable suspicion.
“What’s your name?”
“Connor. And you’re Kiki, right?”
She nodded.
“Nice to meet you, Kiki. Come on.”
I grabbed the bag and waters and opened the door. Kiki looked out into
the hallway with more skepticism, as if there might be a gang of thugs out
there waiting to pounce. When she saw that there wasn’t, she followed me
out.
I walked with her side-by-side, the two of us making our way down the
back hall of the club. We reached the door to the spare office and I opened it
for her. The office was on the nicer side, with couches of soft, plush leather
and a window that looked out onto the city streets. Kiki’s eyes scanned the
interior, and it didn’t take a genius to understand what was on her mind.
“Now,” I said, setting the bag and water down on the table in the sitting
area. “I’m here as someone who wants to help. The first way I’m going to do
that is by telling you not to even think about trying to run.”
She froze in place, as if she’d just been busted.
“I don’t blame you for thinking it. But this place is full of guys who
would shoot you on site if you tried to make a run for it. Go ahead and sit
down, get some food in you. As I said, I just want to talk.”
Kiki regarded me with another mistrusting look before carefully moving
over to the couch and grabbing the bag. She pulled out a sandwich, the smell
of the food filling the air.
“One’s chicken parm, the other’s a club. Take whichever you want. Hell,
take both, if you’re that hungry.”
She went for the chicken parm first, unwrapping it slowly. Once she saw
that it was what I’d said it was, her hands became a blur as she unwrapped
enough to take a few bites. She chomped once, then twice, eating faster than
I’ve ever seen a woman eat.
“I know you’re hungry but try to take it easy. You’ve been living on
nearly nothing for a few days, and your stomach’s going to hurt like mad if
you wolf all of that down too quickly. Sip your water; let it digest.”
With great restraint, she set down the sandwich and took a few sips of
water.
“What do you want?” she asked when she was done.
 “Let me answer your question with a question, love. Do you know why
you’re here?”
“Because I heard something I wasn’t supposed to.”
I cracked open my water bottle and took a seat behind the desk. “That’s
right. But it’s only part of the answer.”
“Yeah, I know. The other part is that they think I’m lying about who I
told.”
“You’re right on the money with that one. The boss is dead certain that
you ran your mouth all around town about what you heard.”
“But he’s wrong.”
I winced. “Let me give you a word of advice. Don’t ever, ever tell the
boss he’s wrong. You talk to him like that and that pretty face of yours won’t
be fit for a stage any time soon.”
She said nothing, taking another bite of her sandwich.
“Why don’t we start from the beginning?” I asked. “Tell me about the
conversation. Tell me why you were having it, and what you heard.”
Kiki took a slow breath. “It was Mickey Flannigan. I was in the dressing
room one night over at Pussycats between shifts, just minding my own
business. That’s when fucking Mickey barged in, this big, stupid grin on his
face. He sat down next to me, started talking about the big shit coming down
the pipe, how the Irish mob’s about to do business with some cartel, that you
guys are going to start running guns from down south instead of Russia.”
I clenched my hand into a fist. Mickey was a stupid fucker.
“So, he just marched into the dressing room and announced it for all the
world to hear?”
She rolled her eyes. “He was trying to impress me, as usual. Said that he
was one of the guys in charge of hammering out the details, said that Eddie
was going to bring him into his inner circle for all his hard work once the
deal was finished. Whole thing was his roundabout way of trying to let me
know he was on the verge of being this bigshot with tons of money to throw
around, as if all he had to do was flash me a wad of hundreds and I’d pull my
panties off right then and there. Stupid asshole.”
She was right about that last part. Mickey wasn’t exactly subtle when it
came to swinging his clout around. He’d paid for it.
“Someone was listening in,” I said. “That’s why you’re here.”
“Yeah, no shit. But why am I being punished for this? I don’t care about
who’s selling guns to who. I just want to show up, shake my ass on stage for
a few hours, make my money, then go home.”
“Too bad that’s not how it works,” I replied. “You run around this kind of
scene, you’ll get sucked into the bullshit one way or another.”
“I don’t want to get sucked into the bullshit. I just want to go home. Talk
to Eddie and tell him there’s no reason for him to keep me here.”
“Is there no reason?” I asked, taking my feet off the desk and leaning
forward. “You’re telling me you didn’t tell anyone.”
Her eyes flashed, Kiki glancing down at the table in front of her. Her
hesitation was clear, and there was no doubt in my mind that she was lying to
me.
“Tell me the truth,” I said, my tone taking on a sharp edge. “Trust me,
girlie—I’m the closest thing to a friend you’ve got right now, not to mention
the only person standing in the way of you and a shallow grave somewhere
on the other side of the river. Understand me?”
She pursed her lips, not making eye contact with me.
“I didn’t tell anyone else.”
Her lying was more than I could take. I slammed my fist hard onto the
desk, the boom making Kiki jump in her seat.
“Stop lying to me. You want to live, you’d better quit jerking my
goddamn chain.”
Silence filled the air. Finally, she shook her head one more time.
“I didn’t tell anyone!”
I knew she was lying, but there was nothing I could do about it. I let out a
grunt of frustration before springing out of my seat and rushing over to Kiki,
grabbing her wrist with one hand and the food with the other.
“Hey!” The water bottle still in her hand, I pulled her out of the room and
back down the hall. Once we were at the holding room, I shoved her inside
and tossed the bag of food onto the small desk.
“We’re not done,” I growled. “When I see you again, you’d better be
ready to talk. Your life depends on it.”
I didn’t wait for a response before shutting the door and locking it behind
me.
Once I was alone again, I shook my head in frustration as I ran my hand
through my hair.
She was lying, no doubt about it. But why was the question. Was she
protecting someone? Kiki might not have been in our organization, but she
was surely smart enough to understand the fate of anyone who she might’ve
told.
Either way, I needed to do some research. I needed to find out Kiki’s real
name, where she lived, the names of her friends and roommate and boyfriend
and anyone else close to her.
I was right about that shallow grave. Eddie wouldn’t hesitate a moment if
he thought there was even the slightest chance that Kiki could interfere with
his plans. Her life was literally in my hands.
It was time to get to work.

END OF PREVIEW

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 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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