The Sokolov Brothers: The Complete Series

by North, Leslie

  “Is that really what you think I should do?” The disappointment and defeat ignited Maya’s disappointment into sudden anger, and she found herself clenching her fists. “You think I should try to bully the council into getting what I want?”

  Kostya looked at her as though she should have known to do it all along. “Yes. How do you think anyone else gets what they want, when it comes to bureaucracy? Keep pushing. Keep insisting. And if they fight you, then fight back. You need to play the game if you want to win.”

  Anger ignited into rage. Maya tried to bite back on her reply, but she couldn’t keep herself silent. She’d suffered too long as a Popov to go back to underhanded tactics like that… she couldn’t imagine putting herself in that situation again. “So, you want me to act like my father? You want me to twist their arms until they give in to me?”

  “You should go home,” Kostya said, his tone suddenly stripped of emotion. “It’s been a long, trying day, and it’s starting to get to you. You should rest.”

  Maya shook her head. She could barely believe what she was hearing. “You think that I’m overreacting? Do you even know what this means? Every day we waste is another day where the homeless have fewer resources… where good people who need help may not receive the care they need.”

  “Maya,” Kostya said in a warning tone. “Let’s continue this talk back in your apartment. This is not the place to argue. You are a professional here, and it’s best if you maintain your professionalism while in the building.”

  The rage inside swelled to near explosive proportions, but Maya held it back. Even if she was furious at him, Kostya was right—she needed to keep a level head while at work. She couldn’t risk losing her job over a moment’s indiscretion, especially now that a flaw in her paperwork had cost New Beginnings the sister location she’d been tasked with setting up.

  She got up from her chair, nodded toward the door, and exited. Kostya followed behind her, a silent shadow.

  It was a long, silent cab ride home, but Maya had a feeling that, once they were behind closed doors, it wouldn’t stay silent for long.

  13

  MAYA

  Kostya closed the front door behind them, and as soon as he did, Maya spun on her heels and faced him, her fists clenched once again. Her cheeks were red, her eyes narrowed in on him.

  “We need to talk about what you said.” Maya took a small, aggressive step toward him, and Kostya instinctively stood his ground. He would not fight a defenseless woman, but he would not allow himself to be caught off guard, either. “You think I’m blowing up over nothing, don’t you? You told me that I was tired, and that I needed to rest.”

  “I do believe that,” Kostya said simply. After all that had happened, her adrenaline crash had to be kicking in. It would take her a while to come down from it, but once she did, she would see reason. He would be patient with her. She was worth the effort. “You’ll feel better after you rest.”

  “This is… this isn’t something I can wake up tomorrow feeling better about!” Anger twisted her lips. “There are people out there who were counting on me… who won’t have a roof over their heads or a safe place to sleep because of this decision! You can’t tell me to calm down.”

  “I didn’t tell you to calm down. I told you to rest, then try again. And again. If you want it, make it yours.” He’d spoken the words carefully, doing his best not to offend her further. Even while angry, he saw a spark inside of her—the proof of the strong, capable woman that she was. All he needed to do was weather her storm. If he did, he was sure there would be calm waiting for him once it had passed.

  Maya’s fists trembled, and Kostya kept a careful watch on how she stood and how she moved. He observed the way her muscles contracted and her joints bent. If she was going to attack him, he’d see it before she ever sprung, and he would be ready for her. He would not do her any harm, but he would prevent her from hurting either of them.

  One way or another, he would not allow her to make a mistake like this.

  “Unless you follow it through, pchelka,” he said gently, “violence is a temporary solution to a bigger problem. It is a warning, not an answer. Are you sure that you are willing to engage in it?”

  Maya’s eyes narrowed farther, going down to nothing more than darkened slits. “Don’t try to mess with my head, Kostya! I have a right to be angry.”

  “But you don’t have a right to raise your fists against another… especially someone you could never hope to best.” Kostya let a beat pass, then shook his head. “If I didn’t already know that you were a Popov, this would be enough to convince me. Rage like this? It gets you nowhere. Refine it. Harness it. Make it bend to you, Maya. That is where your father fails, and why he’s done the things he’s done.”

  Noise was sucked out of the room, so strikingly that it chilled even Kostya. He watched as Maya’s expression grew more hateful and realized what he’d said a moment too late.

  “You are not like your father,” he said in an attempt to correct himself. “You could never be. But when you are angry, and you let that anger get the best of you—”

  “No.” Maya’s voice was dark and dangerous, and for the first time, Kostya really did see her Popov lineage manifested. “You do not get to say that to me. You do not get to make comparisons like those. I left my family, because I didn’t support their goals. I left and started my own life from nothing. I put an ocean between us. I ended all communication. You are not allowed to come into my home and tell me that I am like my father. I am not. I will never be like him.”

  “It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

  “No, it was.” Maya’s fists tightened, and Kostya braced himself for an attack. “Because just like you told me to do with the council, you’re going to keep twisting the knife until you get your way, aren’t you? You’re going to play games with my head, make me believe things that aren’t true, and draw everything I hold dear into question so that you can get your way. Isn’t that right, Kostya?”

  “No.” Kostya stood firmly before her, noticing the way she trembled, and aware of the unbridled passion in her voice. The words assaulted his eardrums, but he resisted them. The muscles of his back tightened, and he rolled his shoulders back to dispel some of the discomfort his sudden tension had brought on. He inched toward her, his step strengthening the severity of his tone.

  “The Mad Dog of the Sokolov family isn’t only teeth, like your family would have the rest of the world believe, is he?” she asked. Maya stood chest to chest with him now, her rage ever-present. Kostya held himself tight, his body wound for escalating confrontation. He would not fight her, but he wouldn’t let her hurt him, either. “He understands how to twist a man’s mind—how to make him doubt himself, and how to make him yield so that the Sokolovs can get what they want.”

  “No.” Kostya thinned his lips. His pulse raced. He was good at what he did, but manipulation wasn’t his area of expertise. He employed it, of course, because no one could depend on muscle alone—the most effective beatings were those paired with psychological torment. Scars diminished over time, but words? They stuck in a man’s mind forever.

  And yet, if that was the case, why did it hurt him that she was calling him out for it? Why did it make him feel like a horrible person? He’d never been uncertain of himself before, not even when he’d taken lives. But now, faced down by a petite woman with fire in her eyes, he doubted himself.

  Suddenly, he felt sick over the choices he had made.

  He’d hurt her, even if it had been inadvertently. He hadn’t raised a hand against her, but he’d managed to damage her regardless.

  What kind of a protector was he?

  “Never compare me to a Popov again,” Maya uttered. Her voice rose barely above a whisper, but he heard every syllable crisply. “Never tell me that I’m like my father. I won’t tolerate that. I won’t. I’m not a part of your world, and I’ll never be. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Kostya didn’t break eye contact with
her, even though his heart battered his ribcage and his blood rushed through his ears. “You have my apologies, Maya. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” Maya looked no less angry than she had before, and the firm tone of her voice led him to believe that she hadn’t accepted his apology. She took a small step back, but the tiny space between them felt like a mile.

  Kostya couldn’t let her go.

  Not like this.

  He stepped forward to close the space between them, cupped her cheek in his hand, and guided her chin upward so that she was forced to look directly into his eyes. Anger still burned in them, but he would extinguish it. He would prove to her that he was sorry.

  Without a word, he crushed their lips together and stole her kiss. There were other ways to work out her frustration. He would show her how.

  14

  KOSTYA

  Maya’s fingers curled into the front of Kostya’s shirt, and she found herself simultaneously wanting to push him away and pull him in closer. The kiss was an insult, a way to shut her up and take her mind off her frustrations. She knew it, but she couldn’t bring herself to end it. The fire and passion in it spoke to her rage and shaped it into something she’d never imagined it could be—unimpeded want. It cascaded through her until no part of her was left untouched.

  Kostya didn’t deserve her kindness after what he’d said. Maya had been born a Popov, but while the blood that pumped through her veins was irrevocably tied to that lineage, the heart that pumped her blood wasn’t. She’d seen what her father could do. The evils in his heart weren’t comparable to Kostya, who did what he was told, and used force and took lives when necessary. Her father had killed because he’d wanted to, and sentenced men to death who were innocent. Maya had seen it herself—and suffered from his cruelty. He’d put people in her life, people she loved and cared for, to death. Old, beloved nannies. Childhood friends who’d happened to see too much. Even her high school sweetheart…

  But Kostya, who was told when to pull the trigger, or when to cause pain, wasn’t like that. The darkness in his heart was different, and Maya had seen into its depth. What he did, he did out of necessity, and he was not needlessly cruel. He hadn’t killed Michael when he’d invaded Maya’s flat—Kostya had given him a warning and sent him on his way instead. When he’d discovered that she was a Popov, he hadn’t jumped to conclusions or immediately detained her to use as a bargaining piece against her father. And more than that, when she’d become unruly and explosive, he hadn’t struck her. Instead, he’d shown her patience. He’d listened, and he’d tried to let her see that he had her best interests at heart.

  He wouldn’t hurt her. He would never embody the kind of evil she’d grown up around.

  And so Maya returned his kiss, her touch every bit as insistent as his was. She struggled to gain dominance over him, but although she kissed aggressively and kept her fists locked on Kostya’s shirt, he was the one in control. He set one hand on the small of her back, his fingers dipping down to brush the round of her ass while his other hand secured itself behind her head, his fingers weaving through her hair. He moved her backward, slowly enough that the kiss was never broken, and before Maya knew it, they’d reached her bedroom.

  Kostya’s fingers sought purchase against her short hair and tugged, and with a low growl that vibrated against her lips, he tumbled her down onto the bed with him. The kiss broke then, and Maya gasped. She landed on top of him, but he was quick to roll them over.

  If this was what he wanted, she would give it to him. If he thought he was getting a meek, defenseless girl who needed his body to heal her, he was wrong. Maya refused to give in so easily.

  She’d show him the passionate, eager, dominant part of her personality. She’d show him exactly how in control she could be.

  And when he was done, panting and spent, it would be her looking down at him, letting him know that she didn’t need his help—that he was here because she wanted him to be. That they were equals, even though their paths in life had gone in opposite directions.

  She would prove to him that she wasn’t afraid.

  Maya was the one who stripped off his shirt, peeling it off his body to reveal the toned muscles beneath. She didn’t have long to appreciate what she’d uncovered—in the next moment, Kostya had opened her fly and had pulled her shirt up her body. Maya lifted her torso, allowing him to pull it off her, then grasped his shoulders and pushed in an attempt to roll him over. Kostya was larger than she was, and far more sturdily built, and could resist if he wanted to—but it seemed like he didn’t. He gave in to her touch and grunted as his back hit the mattress.

  Maya undid his fly.

  Seated on his lap, she could feel that he was already hard. As she worked his zipper down, she wondered what he would look like nude. The pale blond hair he kept buzzed was almost transparent, and his chest looked hairless because of it. What would she uncover beneath?

  Kostya lifted his hips, and Maya gasped as she was lifted into the air. His body didn’t so much as shake as it supported her weight. His core strength was astounding, but she expected nothing less from a man so high up in the Sokolov hierarchy.

  Maya didn’t allow her surprise to distract her from what she’d set out to do. She lifted herself up and guided his pants down his body until they were out of her reach, then sank back down on top of him and ground slowly against his bulge. It didn’t take much to get him to react. With a growl louder than before, he seized her by the hips and pushed her backward and down into the bed, then tore her pants from her body. All that was left were her soaked panties.

  But Kostya didn’t seem in any hurry to take them off.

  As he removed his boxer-briefs, Maya reached for her bedside table to find a condom. By the time she’d fumbled through her drawer and found one, Kostya was bare. He took the condom from her, tore the foil open with his teeth, and cast the wrapping aside. As he slid the latex down his shaft, Maya looked down at him in awe.

  Big… he’s so big. How is he going to fit that inside me?

  The latex rolled all the way down, coming to rest just short of the light brown hair around his base. Her heart skipped a beat, and she looked up into his eyes to find them hazy with lust. His hands found their way to her breasts, and he caressed them momentarily through her bra, then pushed the garment up to expose her. His hands cupped her, and his thumbs worked in tantalizing circles over her nipples. Maya moaned and lifted her hips toward him. She was still in her underwear, but she needed him. After what had happened in the store room of the restaurant, she couldn’t stop herself.

  Kostya continued to tease her nipples while she ground against him, eager for the friction of his body and the girth of his cock. Maya closed her eyes and threw her head back amongst the pillows, chasing selfish pleasure. She knew that Kostya would take what he wanted, so she focused on herself.

  One of his hands parted from her breast. A finger tugged the crotch of her panties to the side, and the tip of Kostya’s cock found its way between her soaked lips. Maya opened her eyes and lifted her head, breathless, as he pushed into her body and filled her all at once. Pleasure raced through her, radiating from her core, and she pushed against him in an attempt to feel more of it.

  I’m wet. I’m dripping for him. It shouldn’t fit in this easily, he’s so big, but my body wants him…

  Kostya, who’d been upright, leaned down over her so they were chest to chest. He kissed her hard as he started to thrust, and Maya lost herself to the intensity of the moment. This wasn’t like the fucking she knew—it meant more than that. The passion between their bodies was met by the passion of their kiss, and it was made more important by it. Maya couldn’t get enough.

  With a startling thrust and a grunt, Kostya came. At least, Maya thought he had. She watched his features tighten and felt his body go rigid. But she wasn’t ready yet. As he came, she pushed them over so that she was on top, and then she rode him, knowing that he’d already given in to her
, and that the power was hers.

  He was hers.

  Maya reached around herself, freed the hooks of her bra, and tossed it aside. She bore down on his cock, twisting and grinding until her pleasure spiked. Eager for it, she moaned, hung her head, and rode him hard. And it was like that, astride him, that she came.

  Kostya gripped her hips, and she lifted her head as wave after wave of pleasure contracted within her and she looked into his eyes. The lust was gone, and all that was left was startled emotion.

  “Ya lyublyu tebya,” he uttered.

  I love you.

  Maya knew that it was too early to make declarations, but that didn’t stop her heart from making a decision. As infuriating and terrifying as he could be at times, she loved Kostya back.

  15

  MAYA

  Maya, in control and on top of him, was intoxicating. Kostya couldn’t remember the last time a woman had asserted herself in the bedroom and forced him into the position she wanted, and seeing Maya do exactly that had flayed his emotions open and left him vulnerable. The walls he’d fought so hard over the years to build up were weakened. If she kept chipping away at them, he knew they would fall entirely.

  Ya lyublyu tebya. It had tumbled from his lips as she’d come for him, riding his cock to chase her pleasure. Kostya didn’t regret saying it, either. He knew that it was true. He was sure in everything he did, whether physically or emotionally, and he would not cloud his judgment with doubt. When he’d spoken those words, he’d meant them, and he refused to take them back.