Married to the Russian Kingpin: Sokolov Brothers Book One

by North, Leslie

  Alexandra nodded. “Sure, anything like that,” she answered.

  Viktor’s brow furrowed. “I cannot think of anything funny from my childhood.”

  “Oh.” Alexandra tried to imagine being the eldest son in a family whose father was a well-respected mafia boss. “I’m sorry, then, I shouldn’t have brought it up, I guess. Childhood must have been tough for you?”

  “Childhood was not tough. But I had to learn how to be tough early, and have only gotten tougher through the years,” Viktor said without emotion. But although his voice was even, Alexandra thought she saw just a flicker of sadness pass through his eyes, like clouds moving across the sun. She decided not to push any further.

  They finished their meal in silence, and Alexandra caught him looking at her again more than once. The warmth had returned to his expression, and it made her heart flutter.

  Once their plates had been cleared, the waiter brought out espresso and blintzes. Viktor poured them both a tiny porcelain cup of espresso and served Alexandra a blintz.

  “Thank you,” Alexandra said, gesturing from her coffee to the restaurant. “For everything. It’s lovely here, and I’ve had a good time with you.”

  “You are very welcome. I had a good time, too.”

  Dessert passed quickly. Before she knew it, Viktor was helping Alexandra out of her chair and holding the door for her on the way out. Never before had someone been so attentive to her. Even though the morning had started off rough, the evening had been practically perfect.

  Or, would have been perfect. When Alexandra stepped from the threshold of the restaurant to start down the sidewalk, her heel caught and she stumbled. Thankfully, she managed to catch herself in the doorway, but when she tried to stand up fully, her ankle gave out and caused her to fall.

  A tiny, terrified shriek escaped her lips.

  But Viktor caught her. One moment, she was almost face-first on the sidewalk, and in the next his arms had pulled her to his chest. She trembled with both disorientation and pain.

  “Are you okay?” Viktor asked.

  “I… I just twisted my ankle,” Alexandra said as she bit back shame. First she had gotten drunk, and now she was tripping over her own feet.

  Viktor didn’t reply. Instead, he carried her a few steps toward the sidewalk and gestured to Roman, who had just pulled up in the town car.

  “Roman! Go inside and get an ice pack!” Viktor barked.

  “Right away.” Roman rushed past them and into the restaurant. A minute later, he returned with a baggie of ice wrapped in a small white dish towel. Viktor carried Alexandra to the street and helped her into the car, then sat next to her and held the ice pack on her ankle.

  And in return, Alexandra couldn’t keep her eyes off Viktor on the ride home; she couldn’t deny her attraction any longer.

  13

  Viktor

  Viktor carried Alexandra upstairs to the bedroom and gingerly set her on top of the blankets. She looked at him as though he were a fireman who’d just rescued her from a burning building, so much so that the clear reverence in her eyes penetrated the hard shell he’d been building around his heart. Ever since his realization at the orphanage, he had been making sure to use kindness rather than fear with her so that Alexandra might open up and confess something, but that look she was giving him now made him melt. Her eyes made him question whether he was just being nice, or falling for her.

  “Does this hurt?” Viktor asked as he carefully flexed Alexandra’s foot. Her ankle didn’t look swollen, which was a good sign.

  “Not really. Well… just a little, I guess. The ice really seemed to help.” Her voice was as sweet as sugar, heavy with gratitude. Viktor knelt on the floor at her feet and carefully moved her ankle again along its full range of motion, testing it. He wasn’t a paramedic by any stretch, but knew enough to tend his own wounds if needed. This was the first time he’d tended to someone else’s.

  “It is not broken, but… does it hurt?” Viktor questioned again when Alexandra pursed her lips.

  “Just a little, when it’s angled in. But not that badly,” Alexandra reassured him. He lifted an eyebrow at her in question, and she broke out in a smile.

  “I’m okay, really, Viktor. Like I said, the ice helped,” Alexandra added.

  His eyes traced from her foot up along her body, appreciating her figure. He thought back on his life and realized he could not remember ever helping a woman like this before. Carrying Alexandra to and from the car, checking her injuries, and holding her icepack had ignited compassion within him that he hadn’t known he was capable of. How was she so beautiful, so fragile? All it had taken was a twisted ankle, and she’d made him feel like a hero.

  Don’t get too attached, Victor told himself. She is the enemy’s daughter, after all. You are just giving her “candy” to win her over.

  “I’m glad you feel better,” Viktor said as he stood and leaned over Alexandra where she sat on the bed. He gazed into her bright blue eyes with growing hunger. “Because we have some business from this morning to settle.”

  Alexandra tilted her head playfully. “Oh? And what business might that be?”

  Viktor’s hands rested on the tops of her thighs and gently parted them in innuendo. He leaned closer until his breath was hot against her neck. “Take a guess.” His mouth caught her earlobe; he nipped it gingerly, and watched her shudder.

  “Oh…” Alexandra moaned the word against him. The sweet, floral scent of her skin and the needful timbre of her voice sent a lightning bolt of arousal to Viktor’s cock. She looked to him with heavily-lidded eyes and sighed. It was a breathless, heady sound.

  His mouth met her flesh again, this time to plant a trail of kisses down her neck. Just as she moved to catch his lips in hers, he pulled away with an impish smirk.

  “Undress for me,” Viktor purred. “Slowly.”

  “And if I don’t?” Alexandra teased, running a finger down the front of his shirt. Viktor’s smirk widened.

  “It would be a shame to ruin such a fine dress by tearing it off of you.”

  “Then you can just buy me another.”

  “Or I can make you wear it around the house as a reminder of how willful you can be.”

  “Willful.” Alexandra had spoken slowly, as though rolling the word around in her mouth. “I like the way that sounds.”

  “I do not enjoy repeating myself. Are you going to undress, or am I going to unwrap you like a present?” His eyes smoldered against hers, and she gazed back with equal lust. The air around them was palpable, as though the atmosphere had taken on a life of its own.

  Viktor tried to ignore the fire she had lit in him, and again reminded himself that he was only here to coax her into opening up and spilling information regarding his father’s murder.

  And then, a loud zip penetrated the stillness of the moment between them as Alexandra undid the back of her dress. She started to shimmy out of the garment, but Viktor put his hand over hers to stop her.

  “No. Slower,” he said teasingly. Alexandra obeyed, slowing her motions to a languid, seductive pace. While Viktor watched, his hands traveled to his throbbing cock and toyed with it through the charcoal grey fabric of his pants.

  Everything about Alexandra was perfect. It was tantalizing agony to watch her undress so gradually, but Viktor savored every moment. His eyes devoured the small mounds of her breasts, the creamy glow of her skin, and, as she finished pulling the dress off and removed her underwear, the flushed pink lips between her legs.

  Alexandra was wet already. He eyed her slickness, greedy for her, ready to pounce. His cock ached at the sight, pulsing with the need to impale her right there, but he would endure for now. Viktor had something special planned.

  “Lie down,” he commanded her, shrugging off his jacket and kicking off his shoes while Alexandra leaned back and scooted further onto the bed. Viktor joined her, gracefully crawling to her, moving in such a way that he was sure she noticed the power in his flexing muscles, and then h
e was there, to bury his face between her legs and probe at her heat with his tongue.

  A high gasp escaped Alexandra’s throat.

  Her flavor was divine. Viktor savored her juices as he dragged them across her entrance with his tongue, only to rest it against the sensitive bud of her clit. Alexandra yelped in pleasure and arched her back, tensing and relaxing in tandem. Viktor growled against her and ground his erection into the sheets with need.

  “Oh, oh…” Alexandra whimpered. Her hands rooted in his short hair and her legs parted wider yet in a silent plea for more. Viktor worked her over with his tongue and nose, masterfully precise.

  “I’ve never… before…” Alexandra’s words were faint and wispy. Viktor took this as a sign that he was doing his job well. He felt her squirming, felt her pressing against his face, and only when she was breathing as hard as a runner nearing the finish line did he pull away to leave her flushed and panting with need.

  “You taste amazing,” Viktor said as he ran the back of his hand along his mouth. A few careful motions repositioned her on the bed until she was on all fours, facing away from him.

  “You feel amazing,” Alexandra replied. She looked back over her shoulder at him, her blonde hair mussed in a most delightful way. When they had first met, Viktor had noticed how much she seemed to fret over her appearance—from the heavy makeup to the padded bra, it seemed like she was always trying to look like someone from a magazine.

  Watching her hair fall wildly across her face, seeing her flawless skin without a heavy layer of foundation, and appreciating her nude body on his bed, Viktor was glad to see Alexandra finally relaxed with herself.

  “You are a goddess.” The words had tumbled from his lips as his pants hit the floor. He kicked them away and climbed back onto the bed to take her from behind. He ran his hands along her tight ass, gave a playful slap, and then used two fingers to test her wetness. The lips of her pussy were swollen. Her slickness, combined with his saliva, ran down her thighs. She trembled, still holding her position on all fours.

  He pushed two powerful fingers into her carefully, up to the knuckles. Alexandra moaned with need and pushed back. She rolled her hips like an animal in heat. Viktor had started slow to warm her up, but now his cock ached unbearably for her.

  He spent a moment toying with her, using his fingers. Only when she was trembling and her pussy had clenched around him did he withdraw his fingers, position himself, and slip inside of her.

  Alexandra’s moan of pleasure filled the room. Viktor watched her grip the sheets, and in turn he put his hands on her hips to steady them. The bed swayed with each powerful thrust. A pillow fell to the floor. He bucked hard into her, penetrating her until his testicles were flush with her ass and withdrawing until only the mushroom head of his cock stretched the ring of her entrance.

  He was panting now, filled with primal need. When his cock struck just the right spot, he made sure to keep hitting it until Alexandra’s cries were nearly ear-splitting.

  “Come for me,” Viktor growled, fucking her hard and fast. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”

  “Ohhh…” Alexandra seemed incapable of speaking. She pressed back against him. Her legs parted wider, and her breathing hitched as he continued thrusting. Her hands were white, she was gripping the sheets so hard.

  Without warning, he felt her spasm and clench in waves as she came. Alexandra’s body tensed around him, driving him to his own climax. He pushed into her one final time, driving deep, and shot into her. They froze there, locked together, and both rode out their orgasms in silence but for their heavy breathing.

  “Da… da moya sladkaya,” Viktor gasped out. It was a Russian term of endearment he did not use often—‘yes, my sweet.’ Alexandra’s head swung toward him. Her eyes were like pools of joy, her smile dazzling, on the verge of enchanting, and Viktor’s heart rose.

  Then sank.

  Was he actually falling for the daughter of his enemy? She, of course, could easily be an enemy, as well—Viktor had yet to determine her involvement. He had kept telling himself he was only trying to win her over, but after the evening they’d just shared, he wasn’t so sure. The way she was looking at him…

  “Viktor… Viktor, that was incredible,” Alexandra panted. Viktor’s gaze fell. He pushed into her slowly again, one final time to milk himself dry, and then withdrew with a wet sound. Their shared fluids coated his length, and he felt a heavy mix of shame and confusion.

  Was he a bad son? By doing this, after all he had learned, was he disrespecting his father’s memory? He should have been investigating, interrogating, bringing down the hammer of justice, not sleeping with the enemy.

  Alexandra’s dreamy expression faded when she looked at his sullen face.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  Viktor didn’t respond; he stared at the bedspread underneath them for a moment, then got to his feet. He straightened his shirt and pulled his pants back on.

  “Viktor?” she asked again. Despite the shaking of her limbs, Alexandra slowly turned around to face him. Her skin was flushed, and Viktor felt fresh shame.

  “I need to go.”

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No. To use the cliché—it is not you, it is me.” He forced himself to lean down and kiss her on the cheek. “I need to think.”

  Without another word, Viktor disappeared into the master bathroom and closed the door behind him.

  14

  Viktor

  The Sokolov nightclub was filled with sweating, well-dressed patrons who danced and drank to house music. On an ordinary night, Viktor would have been entertaining select guests in the VIP section balconies overlooking the dance floor.

  This, however, was no ordinary night. While the crowd danced and the DJs played, Viktor sat in a private room at the back of the club. Behind a reinforced, soundproof door, the big names in the criminal underworld had gathered to assess the situation surrounding Boris’s death. The atmosphere was tense as the men remembered the outbreak of violence at their last meeting, in Viktor’s boardroom, and craved more violence still in apprehending Boris’s killer.

  “I assume everyone here has been made aware that my father was poisoned?” Viktor asked with the expression of a funeral director. He grasped his hands behind his back and stood at the head of several folding tables which had been pushed together.

  The group of men nodded out of time in response. When Viktor scanned the crowd, he saw narrowed eyes and tensed muscles. He continued speaking.

  “Now, for what some of you may not know: Sergei Volkin was the one who stood to benefit the most from Boris’s death. He owed my father quite a sum of money, and his death could have taken eyes away from the Volkin family debt long enough that it might have been forgotten entirely.” Viktor’s eyes hardened with anger.

  “Isn’t Sergei your new father-in-law?” someone in the group asked tentatively. With so much noise and so many faces, Viktor didn’t have a chance to see who had spoken.

  “Yes,” Viktor said. “Yes, he is. Which makes getting to him even easier than it would have been otherwise. Sergei still doesn’t know that we suspect him, and will not see the hand of vengeance come crashing down on him. And his family.”

  As he spoke, Viktor couldn’t help but remember Alexandra’s doe-eyed expression last night, when he had called her moya sladkaya—my sweet. He couldn’t help but feel a heaviness like lead in his heart when he thought about what might happen to his wife in the midst of vengeance for Boris, and even more heaviness as he questioned whether or not he had somehow betrayed the memory of his father by sleeping with the enemy’s daughter.

  This was not the time for sentimentality, however, Viktor knew. He had a meeting to conduct, and in order to be respected, he must keep himself focused on the situation at hand.

  “Your wife hasn’t told him? Hasn’t tipped him off?” another voice from the crowd asked, sounding suspicious already.

  Viktor scowled at the nay-say
er—Rostislav—and walked leisurely toward him, hands still behind his back.

  “No. She has not. I have made sure of that. So far, I have kept Alexandra in line.” Viktor ran his tongue along the front of his teeth. As he drew nearer to the nay-sayer, he saw the man sink down into his chair and avert his eyes. A good sign—he did not particularly want a second round of bloodshed at this meeting after what had happened at the last. These men didn’t need to know that Alexandra was keeping his suspicion quiet out of hope that she’d prove her father innocent, prior to him ever knowing his loyalty to Boris had been questioned, as opposed to out of loyalty to her new husband.

  “And we haven’t heard anything else about the gunrunner? What was his name…” someone in the group asked, trailing off. Viktor had forgotten about the man from the last meeting, and listened raptly to refresh his memory.

  “Anatoly. Anatoly Popov. And no, it’s been quiet as a mouse. He hasn’t caused any problems so far,” someone else clarified.

  Viktor nodded. “Good. That makes things even more clear. We will deal with Sergei. If he does not cooperate, we involve his family. If he does cooperate, then depending on what we learn from him, we may still involve his family in the name of revenge.” Viktor paced as he spoke. Even though he’d kept his tone even, if not a little cruel, for the sake of the meeting, his mind continued to wander toward Alexandra.

  Her family was so important to her, Viktor remembered. If Sergei refused to give him the answers he was looking for, or if Sergei fought back, things would go bad—and fast.

  Even though he had stepped into his father’s shoes as new head of the mafia, however, Viktor felt conflicted about beating, or even killing, in the name of duty. What was the saying? ‘An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.’ Spending time with Alexandra and trying to get information on her had taken an unexpected turn: Viktor saw Sergei and Darya Volkin as human beings rather than as names on a list, and their unfortunate connection to Alexandra was undeniable.