Viktor Sokolov’s mansion was straight out of a magazine. Shined marble floors, high ceilings, chandeliers, dark polished wood, and ornate rugs. She felt like a princess, actually. It would have been even better if Viktor had carried her in through the front doors, like in the movies, but instead he’d been emotionally distant and nearly silent through the entire wedding, and acted no differently as he’d escorted her to what she now had to begin thinking of as her new home.
And then he had disappeared into a private office as soon as the limo had come to a stop at the drop-off point by the front doors of the house. The honeymoon was off following Boris’ unexpected death, of course, but from the cold look in Viktor’s eyes, Alexandra had a feeling it would never be on again. This mansion, beautiful as it appeared, was to be her prison.
It seemed that Viktor’s lavish estate was the end to a dream she’d had since she was small.
Alexandra shook her head and corrected herself. Their lavish estate. She was a Russian mafia wife now. This was her house, too. But even though her father was a successful businessman and she had grown up in comfort, Viktor’s mansion was absolutely stunning, and beyond anything she had seen before.
Their mansion, she reminded herself again. A tiny giggle escaped her mouth, so that the beefy bodyguard standing in the foyer with her shot her a look.
Alexandra cleared her throat and smiled sweetly at him.
The bodyguard gave her a stiff nod, then turned his attention elsewhere. Alexandra’s smile widened. She gave the guard a nod back out of politeness, then began to explore her new home. Most of her possessions had been moved in during the long wedding, and she wanted to see where everything was.
There was a large, elegant staircase across from the foyer that led to the second floor. To the left and right of the foyer were wide hallways. Lamps were set into the walls going down the halls, casting out a warm glow and revealing several paintings of falcons.
She turned down the hall to the right. She found a sitting room with expensive-looking leather furniture, a room that was set up to be a home theater, complete with a giant projection screen, and then a bathroom the size of a small apartment.
Alexandra felt giddy at how lavish it all was.
She backtracked and turned down the opposite hall. The smell of delicious food hit Alexandra’s nose almost immediately. The kitchen was at the far end of the bottom floor, and she stuck her head in for a moment to see a thin-bodied man in a plain white uniform who was leaning over several dishes on the stove. The cook didn’t seem to notice her, and she didn’t want to interrupt.
Across the hall from the kitchen was a dining room, and several other rooms with closed doors. Alexandra peered into a few, to find a large storage closet next to a room with a pool table. It didn’t seem she would find her possessions on the first floor, though she hadn’t particularly expected to.
She returned to the foyer and was about to ascend the staircase when she spotted a familiar face. It wasn’t the beefy bodyguard who had heard her laugh a few minutes ago—this was someone else, but he was familiar, though his features took a few seconds to register.
The limo driver. He had been at the wedding, as well, she realized.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Sokolov.” He gave her a small, polite smile.
“Thanks, Mr—”
“Just ‘Roman’ is fine.”
“Thank you, Roman. And thank you for driving us today.” Alexandra silently prayed she’d remembered correctly and that this man had indeed been their driver.
“Just doing my job.” His smile widened a bit. Alexandra resisted the urge to sigh with relief—he was the driver and she hadn’t just put her foot in her mouth.
“Best wishes to you and Mr. Sokolov,” Roman added. Even though his smile was genuine, though, Alexandra noticed there was still a hint of pain.
Boris’s loss is affecting everyone, Alexandra thought. Suddenly, she felt a little guilty. Why should she be so happy when the man she was supposed to have married had died? Her brain had started to turn the thought over when Roman spoke again.
“If you need anything, let me know.”
“I will, thanks.” She wanted to talk more, but it seemed he was in a hurry, and so she didn’t try to stop him when he turned away.
Alexandra continued toward the staircase, passing a housekeeper in uniform he didn’t turn her focus away from what she was cleaning. She chewed on her lower lip. Was it wrong of her to be happy after what had happened with the wedding? To Boris?
No, Alexandra decided, it wasn’t wrong to be excited and happy. Even though what had happened to Boris Sokolov was tragic, she had technically never met the man, but she did have to understand his loss wouldn’t affect her the same way it was affecting the Sokolov household right now. She had to remember that others were grieving, even if she herself wasn’t.
Her thoughts turned to Viktor and how much pain he was probably in. His father had just died, after all. Perhaps his coldness at their wedding was just a result of Boris’s death. Still, she realized, she couldn’t be sure of that. Perhaps he really was so heartless and stern.
Alexandra didn’t know much about the man she’d married, but she wanted to find out more.
Alexandra turned back to ask the housekeeper a question, but the woman had vanished. There was just the guard from before, looking just as surly as he had when she’d entered.
“Where is Viktor right now?” she asked the guard. He pointed toward the stairs.
“Office area. Up the stairs to the left.” He paused and looked her over. She offered him a smile like she had before.
“Thanks.” She turned and climbed the stairs. The guard said something more from behind her, after another moment had passed, but Alexandra didn’t catch it—and she didn’t turn back to find out, either. She needed to know more about the man she had married.
The marble staircase clacked under her heels as she climbed. When she reached the landing, she heard a deep male voice coming from a heavy door standing to her left. She listened for another moment, and heard what she thought sounded like Viktor.
Memories of how severe he had seemed at their wedding made her hand hesitate for a second on the doorknob, but Alexandra reminded herself that even though Viktor seemed a little scary sometimes, he was her husband now.
She knocked and waited. After a period of silence, she opened the door.
A long, polished mahogany table dominated the center of the spacious room. There were a dozen or so men seated around the table in high-backed chairs, with Viktor standing at the head. Several decanters of vodka and glasses sat in the middle of the table between the men.
Alexandra scanned the room quickly and saw that all eyes were trained on her.
“So that is who knocked,” A lean man in a grey suit said.
“No one else in the house would dare interrupt,” another man snorted. He looked like a chubby former bodybuilder. His arms were bigger around than Alexandra’s legs.
Viktor’s piercing eyes bore into Alexandra from his position at the head of the table. His expression was so cold it was almost cruel. Alexandra felt acid in her stomach and a twinge of fear, coming just from that look.
“Viktor, I’m sorry for interrupting. I didn’t know you were having a meeting. I just wanted to find you,” Alexandra started, her words falling out on top of each other. As she spoke, Viktor moved toward the door, eyes still blazing, his jaw tensed. He looked almost violent with rage, but didn’t say anything.
Alexandra continued, quickly, “Do you think maybe later we could—”
Viktor slammed the door in her face so hard that she could hear the metal rattle on the hinges. Her mouth remained open, caught mid-word. Had he really just done that?
Alexandra’s heart ached now, and her head hurt. It wasn’t fair to treat her this way! How could he just slam the door in her face like that? On their wedding day! And the look in his eyes—like an animal ready to tear into prey. He had been terrifying.
; She stepped away from the door quietly and continued down the hall, not sure where she was going. She just wanted to get away from that door and the awful combination of fear, shame, and sadness that she felt.
A few doors down from his office, she leaned against the wall and took some deep breaths. She hadn’t felt like that since her father had been about to kick her brother Andrei out of the house. Her father’s eyes had burned like hot embers, his voice shaking the walls, and Alexandra had thought that her brother would be thrown out the front door with real force.
Instead, her mother had intervened. Darya’s voice had been like soothing silk. She had talked Alexandra’s father down and cooled his anger with only her voice and her eyes.
And her body, Alexandra remembered suddenly. Her mother had climbed right onto her father’s lap and cajoled him into forgiving Andrei. That had been the moment when Alexandra realized the power of a woman: when she’d seen her mother turn her father’s mood around in the blink of an eye.
Alexandra caught her reflection in a small, gold-framed mirror on the wall. Her meticulously sculpted brows, a shade darker than her long blonde hair, did well to emphasize her radiant eyes.
She tilted her head to an alluring angle and studied her face in the mirror, an idea slowly beginning to surface. Her lips curled into a catlike grin. She was confident now that she knew how to win Viktor over.
Seduction.
3
Viktor
“Dutiful. Honorable. Strong. Cunning. My father Boris was one hell of a man, and raised me and my brothers right. He fought hard. Let him not die in vain.” Viktor raised his glass of vodka to finish the eulogy. “For Boris Sokolov!”
“For Boris!” The rest of the men shouted out in agreement with their glasses held high. The sound of clinking was followed by quiet as everyone took a heavy drink.
Viktor pounded back several gulps of vodka and slammed his glass down onto the table. The rest of the men looked up.
“I know you all are good men, and were loyal to my father. But whoever killed him is still free. Our only chance at revenge comes from unity, brotherhood, bratva. Just as you were all so loyal to him, now you must all be loyal to me as he who is next in line,” Viktor said.
He looked the men over with a steely expression, as though daring any of them to challenge him. No one did.
Good, Viktor thought. No one should dare. As ever, fear is the key to respect and power.
“Who else could it be other than competing mobs? Has there been anything new discovered?” he asked the group. A few men shifted in their seats while others took to staring into their vodka.
“There is a gun runner, Anatoly Popov, who has been making inroads into our business,” Daniil, the leader of their Obshchak—a security group—said through his mustache, his pot belly pressed into the table. “Just a few deals here and there, though. We do not know much more.”
Viktor considered the man’s words as another voice scattered his thoughts.
“If Boris was indeed murdered, justice needs to be swift and merciless,” Iosif, a thick-armed Brodyaga said. “But you are not Boris. You are a boy with no experience. You do not have it in you.”
Viktor set his glass down. He stalked toward Iosif like a prowling tiger and leaned in to get in the man’s face. How dare this man question him? His anger spread like fire through his body, his muscles tensed and ready for engagement.
They stared each other down. Iosif did not apologize, and did not look away; Viktor didn’t like the fact that he wouldn’t stand down, even when he confronted him so closely.
Viktor’s hand closed around his collar. With a grace and speed unexpected of someone with such a powerful build, he turned him and slammed the man into the wall. The rest of the group watched tensely, but most stayed in their seats. Only one of them rose from his seat and spoke.
“Allow me.” It was Kostya, one of Viktor’s brothers. He was grinning and eager for bloodshed. Kostya didn’t wait for response—even as Viktor took a step to the side, Kostya charged Iosif where he stood against the wall and sent a fist into his skull. Then another, and another.
Viktor stepped back toward the table. He watched Kostya wail on the man until the naysayer was bloody and trembling. Viktor couldn’t take the sight of violence any longer, however; his father’s death had been more than enough bloodshed for one day.
“Kostya. Enough!” Viktor snapped. Kostya stopped, looked to his older brother with a smirk, and dropped the man. He hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. Viktor looked the group of men over, pleased with the discomfort he saw in their eyes.
“All of you. Go.” He ran a tongue along the front of his teeth. The men at the table glanced to one another warily, as though uncertain of whether to move. Then Kostya strolled out the door, which seemed to spur the rest of the group toward leaving.
“Take him with you.” Viktor pointed to the bloodied man on the floor. Two men from the group grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him into the hall while the rest cleared out.
When the room was empty, Viktor closed the door and leaned against it. He ground his teeth and resisted the urge to throw one of the chairs as a heavy sigh escaped his lips, and then he sat back down at the head of the table and stared into his glass of vodka.
There, Viktor sat in silence, drinking, until his stomach and chest were warm and his anger had drifted away. He didn’t know how much time had passed, and didn’t particularly care.
The doorknob clicked. Viktor lifted his head to see Alexandra poke her face into the room. When her eyes found him, she gave him a slow smile.
Viktor just glared at her. Interrupting his meeting earlier had not been enough for her—now his new wife would interrupt his private time? Yes, they were married, but Viktor considered Alexandra a relative stranger. He felt irritation prickling at him.
“I know today has been so difficult for you, Viktor. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now,” she said as she slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.
He didn’t bother responding, and only watched her, examining her. There was something soft in her voice, something that felt like a satin ribbon sliding against his skin. He was surprised to find his irritation waning.
She approached him slowly from the doorway, and Viktor noticed for the first time the short, tight dress she’d changed into after the wedding. It rode just a little too high, and gave him a view of the woman he’d married—it was the first time he had seen her figure. She was toned, with a trim physique that accentuated her curves perfectly.
He felt his pulse rise a bit, but his face remained stone-like.
“Today was a very strange day for me,” she offered. “It had to be strange and sad for you.” She stood behind his chair. Her hand slipped down from the top of his head, along his ear, and down his neck. Viktor felt his clenched jaw begin to relax.
“Let me help you feel better?” She moved to stand directly in front of him and caressed the side of his face. He looked her over and felt a stir of lust.
Viktor continued to stare at her, but his glare had softened, and there was a hint of captivation behind his eyes. He barely knew this woman, hadn’t planned on marrying his father’s bride-to-be, but there was something about the way she touched him, about the way she spoke to him, that he couldn’t deny had some power.
His anger from the meeting had mingled with burgeoning lust and, now, confusion. He pushed his tongue around in his mouth dryly. Perhaps he shouldn’t have had so much vodka. He wasn’t drunk, but felt a little tipsy.
Alexandra moved closer to him. She straddled his lap and tilted her head at him. From how close she was, Viktor was gifted with a fuller view of her gorgeous upper body. He slowly grew hard.
“Yes,” he said, the single word breathed out from between Viktor’s lips with hunger.
4
Alexandra
The master bedroom was down a private hall. As soon as Alexandra and Viktor were inside, she closed the door with her f
oot and tugged at his collar to position him for a kiss.
His lips were warm, but a little rough, and his breath tasted like expensive vodka. Up close, she could smell a pleasant, lightly smoky cologne.
She hadn’t expected him to kiss back, at least not immediately given how little he had spoken and how cold his eyes were, so she was surprised to feel his mouth sliding back against hers.
The kiss deepened gradually, and Alexa felt heat rise to her skin. Viktor was an amazing kisser. She only hoped her mouth moved as fluidly as his. She also hoped this night would help bring them closer together as a newly married couple.
Their mouths continued to slide in rhythm while Alexandra slipped her hand upward against Viktor’s well-muscled chest. Her fingers toyed there delicately for a moment, admiring his strong physique, before she tugged his tie loose and began working to unbutton his shirt.
As she freed each button, she rested her weight against him to coax him up against the wall. She pressed into him, and their mouths grew hungrier.
Once his shirt had been opened, she reached down along his defined abs past the front of his pants, to run her finger along the large bulge that tented his fly. Viktor’s breathing deepened, and their teeth clacked as he kissed her back with more ferocity. His hands slid around the back of her dress, up to the tight globes of her ass, and squeezed.
Even as she kissed him, and moaned into his mouth, Alexandra imagined how those powerful fingers might feel inside of her. How the thick cock that strained against the fly of his pants might feel, too. Arousal washed over her full-force and she began to grow wet for him.
As though sensing her anticipation, Viktor broke the kiss to lift her like she weighed nothing. He carried her a few steps, then tossed her onto his plush, king-size bed. Before she had a chance to regain herself, he was on top of her.
Alexandra was breathless. She looked up at him with heavily lidded eyes, and now that she had the chance to look him over shirtless, she noticed several tattoos of falcons along his arms and chest. They reminded her of the falcon paintings in the house.
The Sokolov Brothers: The Complete Series Page 2