by Nicole Fox
Like Lynna said, loving a dangerous man is flattering and terrifying. But it’s also overflowing and aggressive in the most genuine way.
Maksim pulls the trigger one more time, his gun emptied of bullets as my father’s last man falls to the ground, the bullet hole on the right side of his forehead barely visible.
“Where’s my father?” I ask, scrutinizing the dead bodies.
“He’s hiding behind Natalie’s headstone,” Maksim says. He gives a hand signal to his employees that remain behind us. He calls out, “Gianluigi! Surrender yourself. I’ve told them not to shoot. I’m certain my wife has some questions to ask you and I wouldn’t deprive her of that.”
He’s right. I have a million questions for my father—about why he truly took Lily from me, if he ever truly loved me, if all of this was worth it to lose his family.
But as my father slowly rises, showing his empty hands, and takes a couple of steps forward to stand in front of the Akimov name on Natalie’s gravestone, those aren’t the questions appearing at the front of my thoughts. I don’t need answers to them anymore because they won’t change anything. The motives and the devotion of a narcissist always circle back to their own needs.
“You’re a goddamn common thug, Maksim,” my father snarls. “We signed contracts. You just exposed yourself as a liar and a cheat. No one is going to work with you after this. Everyone is going to hear about it. Your whole empire is going to burn and you will be known as a joke.”
I don’t know quite how to react to that, because from my research I know how airtight Mafia contracts are and how honoring them is valued by the Bratva. But I also don’t have time to think it over because
as the last word comes out, I see the glint of a gun at my father’s waist, followed by his hand starting to move toward it.
I see everything flash before my eyes, but it’s not the past. It’s the future—Lily’s eleventh birthday with a chocolate fudge cake, a Christmas morning filled with towers of presents, a normal morning with Maksim and I drinking coffee in the kitchen, Maksim and I poring over his plans for his expansion into—
I stop the flashes of future memories as my hand instinctively rises. I don’t hesitate. I pull the trigger.
The bullet disappears—right into my father’s skull. He slumps back onto Natalie’s headstone. He’s staring straight at me, but there’s nothing in his eyes anymore. No hatred, no greed, no malice. They’re devoid of anything as his body collapses on the same spot Maksim had been kneeling.
Maksim puts his hand on my shoulder. He’s about to say something when I hear a loud exclamation.
“Fuck!”
Maksim and I both turn. Maksim’s employees stand behind us, but they’re all tense and turned away from us to look at the crowd behind them. The crowd is composed of various menacing men and some of them have the olive complexion of Italians. I grip my gun tighter, preparing to raise it, but Maksim places his hand over my arm. I stop.
Nail walks forward, making his way toward us.
“We were all called for backup,” he says to Maksim. “I wouldn’t have come, but it was Katia who called and I wasn’t going to let her get herself killed.”
“Why aren’t you and my father’s men killing each other?” I ask.
Nail blinks. “We have the contract,” he says. “If it was about self-defense or defending one of our own, it would be one thing, but we weren’t going to be the ones to violate the contract without the other side violating it first. We also just heard what Gianluigi said about the contract, but … Gianluigi is dead. They have no leader and they have fewer men right now. They’re not going to start a gunfight. They’re idiots, but their self-preservation instinct is very strong. Full-fledged cockroaches.”
Maksim grabs my hand. “Come here.”
He takes me over to the crowd of men. The men that aren’t part of the Bratva eye him warily.
“Your boss is dead,” he tells them. “You could try to find a new leader out of your small number, but you know it will only lead to more division. The Bratva would kill any of you that survived your civil wars. And, by your own rules, you should be following the closest kin to Gianluigi.”
He raises my hand that’s still intertwined with his.
“If Cassandra became your new leader, I’d be willing to join the two families. You’d be able to make more money than ever. And you wouldn’t have to die.”
Some of the men raise their eyebrows and lowered voices rumble throughout the crowd. Several of them examine me, trying to see if I’m worth following. But they saw me kill my father. I raise my chin. I’ve got nothing to prove.
One of the men steps forward. He’s not the biggest man, but the way the other men regard him, he must be one of the more influential members. He bows his head to me.
“From what Gianluigi has told me, Cassandra walked straight into the Bratva’s headquarters for the sake of her daughter and managed to negotiate with the Bratva leader. The first is highly admirable. The second was an impossible task that she accomplished easily. I’d gladly follow her.”
The other Balducci men start to nod. They each bow their heads, a ripple effect of respect.
Maksim turns to me. He bows his head, giving me a measure of respect he wouldn’t be expected to offer. As I bow my head back to him, he gets onto one knee, still grasping my hand.
“This seems a bit extreme,” I say.
“I didn’t give you a choice last time. I’m giving you a choice now,” he says, his hand clinging tighter to mine. “Will you marry me, Cassandra? For real, this time. Under your own volition.”
“In a cemetery?” I ask, my heart scampering in my chest.
“I was thinking of a church, a beach, or my backyard, but if you want to get married in a cemetery, I’d be happy to do that,” he teases. “Is that a yes?”
“It’s a yes,” I confirm. He nearly jumps back onto his feet. When we kiss, there’s more passion than should be permissible in a cemetery, but there’s also a security between us that I haven’t felt before. I know I am his and he is mine. Even when I hear the wolf whistles and some laughs from the other men, it doesn’t faze me. I know it doesn’t matter.
I’ve scraped through life, searching for the truth, and it found me in the heart of the cemetery. It didn’t expose organized crime, corrupt politicians, or immoral companies. It exposed me. Every part of me has been brought to light.
“I love you,” Maksim says, his mouth brushing against the edge of my mouth.
“I love you too,” I say. It’s the final truth that matters.
I unlock my apartment. As soon as I swing the door open, Lily charges toward me. I barely have time to open my arms before she hugs me, her grip so tight that it nearly hurts.
“You were gone forever!” she says. She looks around my arm, releasing me as she sees Maksim. “Maksim!”
“Hey, little bear,” he says. “How’s it been?”
She hugs him. They hold the embrace for several seconds. Maksim’s eyes are squeezed shut, but in the rest of his face, I can see the love he has for her.
Lily pulls away from him. He opens his eyes as she points to me. “Did you know Cassandra is my mother? My real mother?”
Maksim glances at me. I clench my hands together, looking away from him.
“Yes, Lily,” he says. “She wanted to tell you. She just wasn’t certain how you’d react to the news. Giving you up was her biggest regret, so she came to get you back to make up for it. She just didn’t want you to be angry about it. It’s okay if you are, but you should know that she wanted what was best for you and when you were born, she wasn’t sure if it was with her. Because of her father. Your grandpa.”
Lily folds her arms over her chest. “Grandpa wasn’t very nice.”
“He’s not a good man,” Maksim agrees. I can’t read the expression on Lily’s face. “But he’s gone now and he’s not coming back.”
Rocking on her heels, Lily glances between us. “But that doesn’t change anyth
ing, right? You’ll still take me?”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I crouch down, so we’re closer to eye level.
“Lily, I’d love to adopt you. I’ll do whatever it takes,” I say.
“I will too,” Maksim says, kneeling down beside me. “Because we’re already a family and we want to make it official.”
She bursts into a toothy smile before throwing her arms around both of us.
Epilogue
Cassandra
“We are proud to announce that the recipient of the Miles Prize for Investigative Reporting goes to the staff of the Fifth Avenue Journal for their series that exposed the deep-seated and widespread corruption in the city’s leaders, which led to the mass shooting at the Delilah Festival and the ensuing cover-up.”
As I stand up, my dress gets caught on a sharp edge of the chair’s backrest. Maksim quickly unhooks my dress, giving me a quick embrace and a slower kiss before I turn to Arthur Lawson and Ellie Bates. We hug. I let Ellie take the lead to the Lamprese Hotel’s stage. She’s the one who noticed the careless and unconcerned attitude around the investigation into the Delilah Festival shooting. Nearly everyone at the Fifth Avenue Journal contributed to the article in some way, but she took charge of the entire investigation.
When we get to the stage, the lights are blinding. I keep smiling. Public glory isn’t a type of honor that I relish, but the award is great for the newspaper and as long as it helps to secure more donations, which will earn us more funds to investigate new stories, I’ll attend these types of events.
“Wow,” Ellie says, taking the award from the announcer as her mouth lingers near the microphone. “Wow. I can’t believe this. This article was a lot of hard work, but it’s a testament to how important investigative journalism is. In an age where people want news instantly and they only want the bullet points, we are so grateful that people took the time to read this series and we’re even more pleased that it led to such vital, impressive change within the city. That’s why we’re all at the Fifth Avenue Journal. At least it is now.
“This article never would’ve been written without the leadership of Cassandra Akimov and her editor-in-chief, Arthur Lawson. When she purchased the Fifth Avenue Journal and fired Tom Harden, it gave new life to the newspaper. It brought us back to our roots and reminded us why we’re all in this job in the first place: to tell the truth. So, thank you, Cassandra and Arthur. Thank you to our sources. Thank you to our supportive families. Most of all, thank you to our readers and our donors, who are the ones who ensure that the truth is constantly brought to the light. Thank you so, so much.”
The crowd bursts into applause as Ellie mouths another thank you to Arthur and me. I give her a hug, thankful for her eloquence in her speech.
Music starts to play. We walk back down to our table. Maksim pulls my chair out for me. It’s one of those things I never expected to like—that old-fashioned chivalry—but the best part is that he does it whether people are watching or not.
I fold my hand over his. He smiles at me. Even a year after everything that happened in the cemetery, he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
“Are you surprised?” I ask, referring to the award. He leans forward, kissing over the pulse in my neck.
“Constantly,” he says into my skin. I shiver and lean against him, knowing I’ve won far more than I’ve lost.
Alena’s Rome looks nearly the same from when Maksim had me dragged here over a year ago. The painting of Cascata del Toce is still here. The white and red tablecloths are still here. They still have the chandelier lights and the hostess podium remains the same.
But instead of a white T-shirt and pajama bottoms, I’m wearing a blazer-style dress that cuts off at the middle of my thighs. I’d usually combine it with some type of bottom half, but I know Maksim has reserved all of the tables again, so I don’t have to worry about looking professional enough to own one of the most prestigious journals in the world. I don’t have to worry about anything.
When the waitress brings over the zeppoles, I almost laugh.
“You didn’t let me finish the zeppoles last time,” I say. “You ambushed me with a kiss.”
“And you bit me,” he says. “That was significantly more of a surprise.”
He picks up one of the zeppoles and holds it out for me. It’s the same move he made when he surprised me with the kiss. As much as I wanted to hate that kiss, I can still remember it now. We didn’t even love each other yet—hell, we didn’t even like each other—but the passion he put into that kiss could have killed me. And I still would have loved it.
I lean forward, opening my mouth. The zeppola slides past my teeth, touching the tip of my tongue before I take a bite. I lean back, letting the flavor settle in my mouth. It’s just as good as the first time, the powdered sugar lighting up my brain and the dough ball so fresh and delicate that I could eat a hundred of them without feeling any heavier.
“For my big award winner,” he says with a grin.
“My team won the award, not just me,” I say. “It also helped that we had all of those donations from the article about my father.”
“Yes,” he says. “Do you have any regrets about that? I know the truth means a lot to you.”
“If it came down to whether I’d choose you and Lily or the truth, I’d choose you two every time. If I had to live my life as an undercover agent, lying about who I am every second of the day to keep you two safe, I’d do it. I love you. That’s the truth that matters.”
He kisses me, his sugar-covered fingertips caressing the side of my cheek.
Being with Maksim is always a thrill. There’s no such thing as getting into the mood because every time he kisses me, my body is ready to intertwine with his.
His chair scrapes across the floor as he moves closer to me. His hands move under my dress. As I lean forward, my hands in his hair as I kiss him, his hands slide over my underwear. He grasps the satin material, his fingertips nearly pinching my skin as he yanks them down. I undo the two buttons holding the dress together. When he looks at me, naked except for my bra, it’s an aphrodisiac. It amazes me that after all this time, he can still be stunned and enamored by my body.
I move over to his chair, straddling his lap. I pull off his belt, draping it over the back of his chair. I unbutton his pants and unzip them. His erection pushes past the teeth of the zipper.
As I pull his pants down farther, he grabs me, pushing me off his lap and twisting me around. His body pushes against mine as he guides me to the waterfall-painted wall. His hand presses between my shoulder blades, keeping me pinned against the cold wall as he undoes my bra. He pulls me away from the wall to let it fall to the floor before pressing me back against the wall.
His cock barely brushes against my entrance before he slams into me. For all of his impatience, I’m wet enough that the pain is quickly overcome by the desire to have him moving faster and harder inside me. Our hips and thighs crash against each other. There’s a trust in the violence. I know he won’t take it too far. I know he’s fueled by love.
He pulls out of me, spins me around. When we kiss, there’s still a hint of sugar and wine in his mouth. He grabs me by the waist, lifting me up. I wrap my legs around his hips. When he thrusts into me again, the barrage isn’t as frantic or harsh, but more sections of our bodies collide and my clit grinds against his waist with every thrust.
He pulls my back away from the wall, carrying my weight with his hands under my thighs. He buries his face in the curve of my neck. I breathe in his sweat, loving that he can be so familiar and so provocative at the same time.
He buries himself in me before winding his body against mine. My breath catches. He slides out of me, driving into me hard enough that a shock of pain glides up my spine as I hit the wall. His thrusts return to their merciless pace. After a short while, he kisses me hard, grinding against me again. He alternates between the slow and sensual and reckless abandon. He gets me higher and higher un
til I break.
The orgasm still takes me by surprise with its overpowering depth. My nails dig into Maksim’s shoulders as my body trembles, the pleasure rippling through me so rapidly, I’m lightheaded. As it grips me, my pussy squeezes Maksim’s cock into his orgasm. He explodes inside me, nearly dropping me before catching himself. With shaky legs, he barely manages to lower us onto the floor. He rests his chest against me and his face presses against my neck.
“You’re my everything,” he breathes out. I smile, knowing exactly how he feels. I slowly slip downward, resting on the floor. He slides down beside me, his legs moving to touch against mine. I weave my legs around his legs, keeping him locked with me.
We gaze at each other, absorbing the only love that matters.
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Sneak Preview of KOSTYA
A Dark Mafia Romance (Zinon Bratva)
I can buy my secretary’s submission—or I can take it the hard way.
My ex-wife’s fatal car crash left me with a cruel gift:
A daughter I never knew I had.
I am a billionaire. A mob boss. A titan.
Not a babysitter.
I need a woman’s touch to help raise my daughter.
My secretary doesn’t know it yet, but her life is about to change.
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