Gilded Tears: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 2)

by Nicole Fox

  “Don’t you ‘kukolka’ me, pendejo!” she snaps with fire in her eyes. “I agreed to come back to L.A. I even agreed to accept the fact that you are don of the Bratva. But I need to be kept informed. Comprende?”

  Part of me wants to chuckle. No one could ever accuse my wife of lacking passion or steel.

  But I value my testicles being attached to my body, so I know better than to laugh in her face.

  Besides, the real reason for her outburst is her nerves. She’s worried about me. Paranoid, panicky.

  The best way to soothe her concerns is to tell her what she wants to know.

  She’s earned that right in spades.

  “Polish mafia headquarters,” I tell her.

  “And how many men are you taking with you?” she demands.

  I suppress a smile. If something happened to me, I’m fairly certain that Esme could take control of the Bratva and lead it capably until my son comes of age.

  Whether she sees it or not, she has the strength and the intelligence for it.

  “A dozen,” Adrik answers for me.

  “That’s it?” she says.

  I smile. “Babe,” I say. “I’ve got this.”

  “You have to be careful,” she lectures sternly. “What if Budimir has got to the Polish gang already? What if you walk into a trap?”

  “We’ve weighed the risks—”

  “That doesn’t mean you’ve eliminated them,” she counters.

  I walk forward and take both her hands in mine, forcing her to look me in the eye. “I know you’re worried,” I say. “But you don’t have to be. I know what I’m doing. I’ve done this a few times before.”

  “You had the might of the Bratva behind you at the time,” she points out. “Now, that force backs your uncle.”

  “All true,” I agree. “But every one of my men are worth ten of Budimir’s.”

  She shakes her head and mumbles something that sounds a lot like “Ugh, men.”

  “Trust me, Esme,” I tell her. “I’m not taking any unnecessary risks. Not when I have you and Phoenix to think of.”

  She sighs deeply and pulls her hands out of mine.

  “You better come back without a scratch tonight, Artem Kovalyov,” she says. “Or else I’ll kill you.”

  I smile. “I might make a mafia wife out of you yet, Esme Moreno.”

  “The name is Esme Kovalyov,” she says instantly.

  I shiver at the way she says that. My cock stiffens, too.

  Yes, my wife has fire aplenty.

  “How could I forget?” I say, unable to keep from grinning ear-to-ear.

  She’s about to lean in and kiss me when a piercing cry carries through to us.

  “Phoenix,” Esme says hurriedly. She darts into his room to check on him.

  When she’s gone, Adrik looks at me with raised eyebrows, waiting for orders.

  “Go round up our men,” I tell him. “We’re leaving in five.”

  He nods and leaves the apartment, while I hang back. The moment the door shuts behind him, I move to the half open door and watch as Esme picks Phoenix up and rocks him gently from side to side.

  “You’re okay, little bird,” she says. “You’re okay.”

  “Esme?”

  She turns to me.

  “I’ll see you tonight.”

  She nods solemnly. “You better.”

  I give her a wink and head out the door.

  The car’s waiting for me downstairs. The rest of my men will meet us on the road about a mile out from the Polish facilities.

  And then, the games will begin.

  Twenty minutes later, I see three black SUV’s fall into line behind us. My entourage is complete, and yet, something is missing. I realize with a painful jolt that something will always be missing.

  Cillian.

  He should be here, driving the car while I coordinate with the rest of the team.

  I glance towards Adrik. He’s a loyal man and a strong fighter. So is Maxim. So are all the men who have pledged their loyalty to me.

  But it doesn’t matter.

  My history with them is surface deep when I compare it with the friendship I had with Cillian.

  I wonder if that loss will ever stop hurting.

  We park right in front of the safehouse, a surprisingly unimpressive building for a mafia faction that has been active and influential for a few decades now.

  I’m the first person out of the car, but the rest of my crew quickly follows. We’re all packing heat—a show of strength is necessary—but I’ve purposefully limited the number of men I’ve brought with me to avoid the appearance of a direct assault.

  But some fear may be necessary.

  I just need to toe the line.

  I’ve come here for a conversation, a possible alliance, not a fight. If I’d brought any more men, that’s the way our presence might be construed.

  My men stand back, waiting for me to take the lead or issue an order. I don’t say a word. I just stride towards the headquarters gates as my men fall in line behind me.

  There are four men at the gates. They get to their feet as we approach, their expressions wary, but I keep my body language casual.

  “Excuse me, boys,” I say. “I have an appointment with your boss.”

  They nod humorlessly and open the gates. We flow inside.

  There are more men in the courtyard who glance up as we enter, but I breeze right past them and into the building.

  I walk into a large living room setup, where yet another bunch of men are milling around.

  The hierarchy is obvious. The underbosses are reclined on the couches, drinking whiskey and smoking cigars.

  The men hovering around the periphery of the room are soldiers, runners, grunts.

  But every single one of them turns to look at me when I enter.

  “Is Kaminski in?” I ask.

  No one answers for a moment.

  “Are you all fucking deaf? I asked if Kaminski is in.”

  Finally, someone speaks up. My gaze swivels over to track the speaker.

  It’s one of the smug idiots on the couch. He’s tall, broad, muscular, with a distinct and massive tattoo of an eagle sprawling across the front of his throat. Apart from that, his features are forgettable.

  “Who’s asking?” he says.

  “Artem Kovalyov.”

  I hear someone swear to the side, but I don’t even glance in his direction.

  “Send a message up,” Eagle Tattoo snaps at an aide.

  I stand there silently and wait. The atmosphere is tense at best, but I keep my expression calm, unbothered.

  I don’t have to fake that. I am calm. I am unbothered.

  I’m in my element.

  Then I hear footsteps. A few seconds later, three men stomp down the stairs into the middle of the space.

  The last one I recognize immediately as the Polish mafia don, Kaminski. I’ve seen him in passing before when I was a boy.

  He hasn’t changed much. Maybe a few kilos heavier and a few more grays in his hair and beard.

  “Kurwa!” he exclaims in Polish as his eyes settle on me with disbelief. “It is you.”

  “Surprise,” I chuckle, raising my hands with a smile.

  “You must have some kind of death wish coming back to this city.”

  I shrug. “I have a slightly different perspective.”

  “Which is what?” Kaminski asks, taking a few steps forward as his underlings converge around him.

  “This is my home,” I reply. “And I’m taking it back.”

  Kaminski smiles, his eyes taking stock of the men behind me. Then he turns to his.

  “Out,” he orders. “All of you.”

  Of course, he doesn’t actually mean all his men. A few of his underbosses stay behind, including the guy with the eagle tattoo.

  I count quickly and silently as the room empties. In the end, there’s fifteen of them and twelve of us.

  I don’t want it to come down to bloodshed. But if th
at becomes necessary, I like our odds.

  Kaminski plops down on a couch and gestures for me to sit as well. I move forward and take the sofa directly opposite him.

  My men spread slightly to occupy more of the room, but none of them sit. I can feel them at my back, scanning the area, staying vigilant.

  “My sources tell me you haven’t picked a side yet,” I begin cautiously.

  He grunts, “Didn’t see the point of getting involved in a fight that’s not mine.”

  “Fair,” I agree. “But I’m guessing you want to cash in where you can.”

  He smiles, showing yellowed teeth. “For that, all I need to do is present your uncle with your head,” he says. “Budimir put out a standing contract on your life. Of course, that was before he announced that you were dead. Which means your head is probably worth a lot more now.”

  “Probably,” I say. “But Budimir will just give you money. Maybe after that, he’ll throw you a bone every now and again. I can do more for you. Far more.”

  “If I ally with you, of course,” Kaminski amends.

  “Of course. So the only question now is… are you interested?”

  “That depends,” Kaminski muses. “On your offer.”

  So far, this has gone exactly as expected. I reach into a pocket and pull out the list of concessions that Adrik and I hashed out last night. Territories, shares of various trades and businesses, some rights of passage through Bratva-controlled parts of the city.

  It’s a lot. More than I would’ve wanted to give up.

  But as much as I hate it, we need Kaminski’s cooperation.

  He scans the handwritten list. I watch his face for signs of approval or distaste, but he gives nothing away.

  “Well?” I ask when he sighs and leans back.

  “Those are generous terms,” Kaminski says.

  “It’s a one-time offer. Expires very soon.”

  “And if I say no?” he asks.

  I glance around at the rest of the silent men in the room. “We’ll leave.”

  He smiles again, baring those sharp, yellow teeth. “And you think I’ll just let you walk out of here…?”

  “Perhaps not,” I acknowledge. “I hope you will, though. For your sake.”

  Kaminski raises his eyebrows. “For my sake?”

  I nod. “You don’t want to sacrifice your men unnecessarily, do you?” I ask.

  He frowns and makes a big show of counting out how many Bratva soldiers have come with me. “Jeden, dwa, trzy… jedena´scie, dwana´scie. Twelve. Twelve men. You really think you can take on all of us with only twelve men?” he guffaws.

  He’s playing like he’s unconcerned, but this man is don for a reason. I know that beneath the bravado, he’s assessing the situation. Trying to figure out if I’m just naïve or if I know something he doesn’t.

  “I know I can,” I answer smoothly. “But I brought in reinforcements, just in case.”

  Kaminski’s laughter dies instantly. “Pierdoli´c,” he growls. “You’re talking bullshit.”

  “Did you really think I would risk coming here with only a dozen men?” I ask conversationally.

  “Liar.”

  I shrug. “It’s your risk to take.”

  I see a muscle in his jaw twitch, but otherwise he stays calm and unflustered. Finally, he leans forward.

  Behind him, I see his men tense. They’re waiting for his answer as much as we were.

  “I like your style,” he tells me. “If I had to bet on a Kovalyov man, it’ll be you.”

  He extends his hand out to me.

  I clasp it with mine.

  “You have yourself a deal.”

  I nod and get to my feet. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Then I turn and walk out of there with my men close behind. Adrik falls into step beside me as we go back out through the courtyard and the gates.

  He doesn’t say a word until we’re back in the car. “If he had ordered his men to attack, we would have been outnumbered ten to one.”

  I nod. I knew the math as well as he did.

  But Kaminski hadn’t called my bluff. He bought it.

  And we just bought ourselves an ally.

  36

  Esme

  The Next Morning

  I take him deep, his cock filling my mouth as his tongue pushes through the folds of my pussy. I have to jerk back just to gasp so that I don’t choke on him.

  I love giving Artem head. It’s such an erotic experience, and one I never thought I’d enjoy. But apparently, when you find the right man, it can be a huge turn-on.

  Usually, I like to concentrate on him.

  But today, he insisted on eating me out while I suck his cock.

  I’ve never actually tried the sixty-nine position with anyone before, and I’m finding it overwhelming.

  I can feel my juices coat the bedsheets beneath me, but Artem seems oblivious as he tongue-fucks me relentlessly.

  I lick his balls as my hand strokes his massive shaft, but the moment his tongue circles my clit, I know there’s no way I can concentrate on what I’m doing.

  He eats me out passionately and I come right on his face, gasping and moaning and clinging to the sides of the bed as though I’m scared to float away.

  Before I can even catch my breath, Artem climbs on top of me and I feel his cock slide inside me easily.

  He starts to fuck me hard, anchoring me in place with his massive chest.

  We come together seconds later and I sigh with contentment, thankful that Phoenix has his own room and has started sleeping soundly.

  Artem dips his head down to my breasts and sucks on my nipples for a moment before pulling away and getting out of bed.

  I sit up, drawing the sheets around my breasts as I watch him reach for his boxers.

  “Where are you off to?” I demand playfully.

  “I have a meeting,” he sighs. “Several, actually, and I’m late to them all.”

  I smile guiltily. “Is that my fault? Did I delay you?”

  “Delay?” he asks with amusement. “Is that what you call attacking me when I was practically out the door?”

  I laugh. “I didn’t attack you!”

  “You threw your naked body on me and dragged me by my cock into bed,” he reminds me as my cheeks blush scarlet. “What do you call that?”

  “Um… love?” I offer.

  Artem laughs but his eyes soften.

  “Fair enough,” he says, pulling on his boots. “Love it is.”

  Once he’s full dressed, he walks over to me and gives me one last kiss.

  “Alik and Gennadi will be with you today in case you want go out.”

  I sigh. “Artem, I don’t need two bodyguards.”

  “Yes,” he says firmly, “you do.”

  “The whole point is that I’m meant to be travelling under the radar, right?” I ask. “I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb if I’m accompanied by two bodyguards the whole time.”

  “Which is why they’re dressed in plainclothes,” he tells me. “They’ll blend into the crowd, don’t worry.”

  “Still really unnecessary.”

  “I’m not taking any risks where you and Phoenix are concerned.”

  Right on cue, I hear a piercing cry from the next room. I smile and Artem shakes his head.

  “Speak of the little devil,” he says. “At least he didn’t cock-block me today.”

  I laugh and get out of bed, letting the sheet fall away from my body. I feel Artem’s eyes on me and my skin heats up instantly.

  As though we didn’t just finish getting extremely filthy with each other.

  He reaches out and slaps my ass gently. I dodge his second swipe and wrap my robe around me.

  “Hey, now! No tocas,” I reprimand. “Hands to yourself, mister.”

  “I’m only human, woman,” he growls. “Put your clothes back on or come over here.”

  I smile as I knot the rope of my bathrobe. “I thought you were late, eh?”

  “F
uck.”

  I follow him out of the bedroom. Artem stomps into the living room, but I make a small detour to get Phoenix.

  He throws his tiny fists in the air when he sees me. I pick him up and take him back out to where Artem is.

  “Hey, little man,” he says, placing a kiss on Phoenix’s head. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

  “You’ll be here for dinner?” I check.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, then,” I reply. “Have a good day.”

  As if he’s a normal husband headed off to a normal job, and I’m a normal housewife about to embark on a normal day of tending a home and raising a child.

  None of this is normal.

  But I’m starting to realize… maybe I like it that way.

  “You, too,” he says. “And please don’t ditch Alik and Gennadi.”

  I smirk. “Fine. But only because you asked so sweetly.”

  He rolls his eyes but kisses me once more. “Thank you,” he says when he pulls away. “Now, I really have to go.”

  He kisses Phoenix again and whisks out the door.

  I’m left standing in the kitchen, holding our baby and buzzing head to toe with the aftershocks of Artem’s tongue between my legs and his kiss on my lips.

  It’s a scene of such domesticity that it takes me by surprise and makes me realize that my dreams are closer to reality than I’ve realized.

  Yes, I’m still very much a part of the world I vowed to leave, but it feels like a small price to pay for a man like Artem.

  My last few months alone had put things in perspective. I know now that it was wrong of me to have deprived Phoenix of his father.

  My reasons were valid, of course. But just seeing how my baby’s eyes light up when Artem whirls him around the room is enough to make my heart hurt for ever having separated them in the first place.

  “Let’s have a good day, yes, my little angel?” I whisper to Phoenix, tweaking his button nose. He gurgles and squeezes my fingertip.

  Artem had floated the idea of hiring a nanny, but I’d nixed it immediately. I just don’t know if I can trust anyone at this time.

  Maybe once the threat of Budimir is gone, I could get on board with hiring some help. But not until then.

  I set Phoenix in his crib to play while I take a quick shower. When I’m clean, I go to my new wardrobe and throw open its doors.