I FEEL FEATHER LIGHT kisses travel down my spine, and I moan. I hurt so bad. We traveled over an hour to Versailles yesterday, and then walked around the inside of the palace and visited a few gardens; all the while my pussy pulsed and ached the entire time. Thankfully, Timofei gave me last night to rest, but it still hurts.
“Breakfast is here. Time to eat, devochka,” he murmurs against my skin. I feel him back away from me and stand.
I roll over onto my back and look up at him, the sheet around my waist, making my bare breasts completely on display. Timofei hasn’t allowed me to sleep any way but naked, since the first night of our marriage. After spending the entire day nude with him, I’m no longer even an ounce shy with my nude body on display.
Sitting up, I don’t get one leg out of bed before Timofei is setting a tray table next to me. I watch as he climbs into bed and hands me a plate. It’s got a croissant, some fruit and a coffee, just the way I like, all ready to eat.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“We’re spending the entire day outside in the gardens and Marie Antoinette’s village today, eat up,” he announces.
We eat quietly together, and I can’t help but wonder if I will always feel this way. For the first time in my life, and in this marriage, I feel joy and happiness.
I’ve been content and even happy before, but nothing has ever felt this way. Not only does Timofei make me feel desired and beautiful, he’s been charming and even tender since our fight. Maybe it’s too early to tell, it probably is, but I’m finding that piece of hope again.
Once we’ve eaten, we both shower and dress. I’m wearing comfortable linen shorts, in a beige color, with a navy blue, V-neck, loose shirt, along with sandals. My black hair is curled at the ends, but I gather it in a ponytail, knowing we’re going to be outside for the majority of the day.
It doesn’t take us long to hurry outside and head toward the palace. The town is so charming and lovely that I wish we were staying here a little longer. When we’re inside of the gates and down the cobblestone walkway, we bypass the palace tour and head toward the gardens.
I make a pitstop at the restroom before lunch. When I step out of the bathroom, my brows furrow when I see Timofei is talking on the phone. He hasn’t taken any phone calls during our sightseeing, not even once.
Walking up to his side he ends the call and shoves his phone in his pocket. I take a step back when he looks at me and I see nothing but rage in his features.
“We’re leaving early, cutting the trip short,” Timofei announces, his hand wrapped around mine as we walk along a tree covered dirt path.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
He shakes his head and detours us toward a gelato vendor. I can smell the fresh waffle cone, and he orders an ice cream for me and then one for himself. We resume walking, our desserts in our hands, and I wait.
With a heavy sigh, he finally speaks. “It’s work, Devvy. I have shit that needs to be handled. I planned to handle it all when we returned, but it looks like I need to take care of it sooner than that,” he explains. “I have some more phone calls to make. You continue to look around, I’ll be behind you.”
“Okay,” I shrug.
He tugs me closer to his side and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “We’ll be back. Anytime you want to come back here, all you have to do is ask.”
I nod and try to mask my disappointment. This has been my first real adventure and it’s going to be cut short. I should be thankful that it has lasted an entire week.
With disappointment and reality looming over us, we decide to spend the rest of the day touring the grounds, the gardens, and Timofei even takes me on a romantic rowboat ride, when all of his phone calls are completed.
When it’s time to head back to the hotel I can’t help but feel dread, and sadness wash over me. Timofei wraps his hand around my waist as he tugs me into his side. We walk back to the hotel.
The dread continues to choke me with each step we take. Something is about to happen, but I don’t know what it is. It doesn’t matter. I can tell that whatever it is, it isn’t good.
“How about we order some room service tonight?” he asks as the door to the hotel suite closes.
I jerk my head in a nod. “I’ll order and you get packing. I have some phone calls to make,” he murmurs as his lips brush my temple. Without a backward glance, he turns and walks to the phone.
The next morning, I press my hand to my stomach and try to fight the nausea at the thought of something bad happening when we return.
I don’t want Timofei to get hurt, and I’m not naïve enough to believe that it’s not a possibility. I know what kind of man he is, roughly what his job entails, and it makes me nervous. Him having to return from our honeymoon early isn’t a good thing. It means something is about to go down, but what?
“Ready? The driver will be here in fifteen,” he announces.
“Yes, I’m ready,” I admit as I take a glance around the room.
I’ve picked up everything, packed everything, and I zip up my bag as I fight through the nerves of what awaits us upon our arrival. Timofei takes the handle of my bag and wraps his hand around mine as he walks us toward the door.
Standing just inside of our hotel suite is a mountain of a man. I stand staring as Timofei talks to him.
“This is Pava, he’ll be driving us to our plane,” Timofei murmurs as he hands my bag to the mountain, Pava.
Pava winks at me before he takes Timofei’s bag and walks out of the door. Timofei places his hand on my lower back and gives me a slight push toward the entrance.
The three of us walk out to a waiting black car. The drive to the airplane isn’t as exciting as it was when we first arrived, probably because we’re leaving this gorgeous city far too soon.
Pava and Timofei are both quiet as we make our way to the airport. When we’re out of the heart of the city, I know that we’re growing closer, and my heart starts to race inside of my chest. Something isn’t right. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it. Something is definitely wrong.
“Fei,” I whisper.
His head angles down to look at me, concern lacing his features as soon as he takes me in.
“What’s wrong?” he barks.
I shake my head, my throat feeling dry. “Something is wrong; I can feel it.”
“It’s fine, Devvy. Calm down,” he assures with a coo.
I breathe in and let the breath out, not feeling like anything is fine, but forcing myself to calm down. When we finally arrive at the airport and the tarmac, Pava stops the car.
Timofei instructs me to go take a seat and tells me he’ll unload the luggage and be there in just a moment. I don’t want to leave his side, but reluctantly I do.
“He’s still here,” Pava explains.
I nod and think about what to do next. It’s clear my father isn’t going to make himself known, or do much of anything but watch me fuck my wife.
As much as I’m all for him getting his rocks off, his obsessiveness over my marriage, over my wife, is a line I cannot allow him to cross. Lucky for me, he’ll be eliminated soon.
“I know,” I state. “Thank you for your help. When you come to the states, come to the City and visit. Give me a call, yeah?”
Pava grins and drops his chin in a nod before he turns and leaves. I hurry toward the airplane and tell the pilot that we’re ready to go anytime he is before I make my way to my obviously very nervous wife’s side.
Since this trip wasn’t as planned out as the first, we don’t have a flight attendant and we’re on our own. Though I’m too worried about what awaits me to care.
“Everything okay?” Devyn asks, looking up at me through her lashes.
I nod, not verbalizing my answer. Everything is certainly not okay, but I’m not about to tell her that. There is no reason to worry her more than she already is. I don’t tell her what I’ve been sitting on for the past few hours.
My brother-in-law was shot.
Luckily, my father can’t hire the best professionals available, and he missed any vital organs. I think back to the phone call I received when Devyn was in the restroom at the palace. Oksana was beside herself and called me in a complete panic.
“Timofei,” her voice cracks.
The hair rises on the back of my neck, knowing that something is terribly wrong. “Talk to me, Sana.”
“He, Mika, he was shot,” she sobs. Closing my eyes, I drop my head. “He’s going to be okay, but Timofei?”
“Yeah?” I rasp.
She pulls in a breath, I can hear the heaviness in her move through the phone. “He almost killed my husband. I need you to come home.” Her voice is a little darker, a little more demanding. I can’t stop the pride from hearing her strength.
“I’ll be there as soon as I possibly can.”
Konstantin has been keeping me updated. He informed me that Mika was released from the hospital just a few hours after being admitted.
I run my hand over my face, unsure as to why my father won’t let this shit go. Mika has more than proved his love and worth to have my sister as his own. Just because it wasn’t my father’s choosing doesn’t mean that he doesn’t deserve her.
Plus, they have a baby together. I feel a sharp pain in my chest, images filling my head of me leaving Devyn alone and pregnant because my father is a crazy fucking bastard.
Closing my eyes, I decide not to think about it.
The flight back to New York is uneventful, and I’m glad for it. We arrive late in the evening, Konstantin waiting for us on the tarmac. I wonder if he has more news for me than he did before the plane took off in Paris.
Quietly, Devyn stays at my side while I help her down the stairs of the plane and into the waiting car. Once she’s in the backseat, I turn to Konstantin, waiting to hear what he has to say.
“It was your father’s man who tried to kill Mika, not even hired out. It was a Shestyorka, fifteen years old and trying to earn his place in the organization. I have him now. I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do with him,” Konstantin announces.
I scrub my hand, down my face, and let out a groan. “What the fuck?”
“Exactly what Yakov said,” he mutters, looking to the side with his hands on his hips.
Thinking about the age of the kid, I close my eyes. That’s exactly what he is at fifteen, a fucking kid. It makes me sick. It’s not his fault. A Pakhan ordered it. No matter what it was, he would agree to do it. Though I don’t hold the boy responsible, I can’t just let him go, either. He tried to kill a Brigadier of the Bratva.
“I need to see my sister, make sure she’s okay. Is the boy at a safe house?”
“Yeah, he is,” he nods.
Wrapping my hand around the back of my neck, I look to the car and let out a puff of air. “Take Devyn to my apartment in Brighton Beach. I’m going to see Oksana and Mika, then probably Yakov. I don’t trust anybody in my father’s crew but you. Can you stay with her until I return?” I ask, shoving my hand into my pocket as I take out my keys.
“Yes, boss,” he murmurs.
I feel a tightness in my chest at his title for me. Boss. A title I haven’t earned yet. A title that has solely been my father’s my entire life. A title that soon will be mine.
Handing Konstantin the keys to my place, I tell him what apartment number is mine before I thank him and slap him on the back. I also advise him to keep his phone close, in case Yakov wishes to talk to him, or in case I get any new information. He agrees with a dip of his chin before he jogs over to the driver’s seat.
I don’t say anything to Devyn. I don’t have the time. If I say anything about the situation, she’ll only be scared. She was obviously wary at the fact that we had to cut our trip short anyway.
Saying anything to her about Mika, about my father, it would just frighten her. She doesn’t need to know any of this anyway. It’s not her concern, as I’ll always keep her safe.
Oksana is a printsessa, strong and capable of handling the situation. Devyn, I don’t know her well yet, but our organizations are not the same. It’s obvious her father has shielded her, his main goal to mold her to be what he believed she should to become, a sweet and naïve mob wife.
Ignoring the car’s engine as it starts up and takes off behind me, I jog toward the pilot and ask for a ride into the city. He agrees, and I busy myself with my phone, texting Oksana and finding out exactly where they are as the driver makes his way toward Manhattan.
Mika and Oksana chose to stay away from Brighton Beach for my wedding, even though it would have been much easier. However, my father was Oksana’s main reason for wishing to be further away, or rather, her hatred for him. I don’t blame her. Yet, distance didn’t matter. He still got to her.
“The Four Seasons,” the pilot murmurs. I thank him and offer him some extra money for going out of his way. He waves me off.
Without delay, I hurry to the elevator and hit the floor that Oksana said her room was located. My fucking crazy father. Shaking my head, I knock on the hotel door and it swings open.
My sister greets me, looking up at me with wide blue eyes. Then those eyes, they fill with wetness before she throws herself at me. She wraps her arms around me and I return the gesture, holding onto her, comforting her.
“He’s dead, Sana,” I murmur against the top of her head. I return her hug, holding her tightly.
“Papa?” she asks on a whimper.
I grunt and she looks up at me, chewing on the side of her cheek, one of her nervous habits. “Yeah, papa. You know he hired a fifteen-year-old boy? A boy trying to become a member—a Bratva boy,” I murmur, telling her something I probably shouldn’t. It’s Oksana. She can handle it.
“Come inside,” she whispers as she turns and tugs me into her suite. “Mika is in the bedroom. Misha is asleep, finally,” she sighs. “You know Mika was holding him when it happened? My baby could have died, Timofei.”
“Are you telling me this to piss me off more? Or is it your way of saying you don’t care what happens to papa?” I ask, arching my brow.
I watch as her shoulders rise and fall, and she looks away for a beat before her eyes meet mine again. The fear and sadness are gone, replaced with anger and white hot rage. “Maybe I want his fucking head brought to me,” she states.
“Sana,” I warn.
“Fuck him. If something had happened to Misha, or if Mika were seriously injured, he’d already be dead, because I would have killed him with my bare hands,” she states with a nod.
I nod and dip my chin slightly, tilting my head to the side. “It is done, Sana. You have nothing else to worry about. I will take care of this,” I ensure her.
“Sooner rather than later,” she states as she starts to walk to a closed door. “Mika is in here.”
I stand and walk toward her, wrapping my hand around her shoulder and giving it a squeeze before I lower my head and let my lips brush across her cheek. “Trust me, Sana. I’ve always taken care of you and I always will. It is done.”