by Bree Porter
"If you truly have your heart set on it, fine." But you listen to me, Elena, I told her. There is no wandering off, no leaving my sight.
She tipped her head in mocking acknowledgement. "Come on, baby. Let's go and find Babushka."
Nikolai grabbed her outstretched hand, giving me a wave with his other hand. "Bye-bye, Kon."
It was better than Uncle Kostya, I reasoned to myself as I felt the familiar burst of temper rise up in me.
In the present, Elena met my eyes across the room. Her watchful gaze didn’t flinch or dart away, instead our stares collided. Every piece of me ached to go to her side, to stand beside her and make it clear who she belonged to. I wanted to ask her about the races and listen to her thoughts: who do you think will win? Which horse was your favourite? I wanted to tease her about her horrendous hat and sore feet.
It took every ounce of self-control in my arsenal, but I didn’t let myself move.
Elena would come to me. It was her–not me–who coming crawling back first.
I felt my old patience return slowly to me. It was the same patience that had me waiting for my kingdom, the one I slept on while I was a young man and running rampant on the streets of Moscow. It was the same feeling that had me stewing over Elena, waiting for her to succumb to the love I had for her.
Patience. One of my virtues, one of my flaws.
I had always been the snake in the grass, the fangs beneath the beautiful flower.
The facts remained the same. My Elena had decided to stay, and even though many challenges still laid before us–Titus, parenting, each other–she was in my orbit and therefore, in my grasp.
My love, my son, my kingdom. I would have it all.
All I had to was be patient.
The corners of her lips curled inwards like she could hear my thoughts. I tipped my glass towards her in celebration. She didn’t return the gesture.
A few men brought me into a conversation about Hilarion as a stud, but I kept Elena in the corner of my eye. The only time I turned away was when my phone rang, my niece’s name popping up. I excused myself from the group to take it.
“Oh, Uncle Kostya,” Natasha exclaimed as I soon as I said hello. “I’ve been having such an awful time–but so have you. Is it true then–Elena has returned? With your heir?”
I turned my back to Elena, trying to give myself from more privacy. Her stare felt hot on the back of my neck.
“It is.”
She let out a high-pitch giggle. It was hard to tell if she was laughing out of celebration or cruelty. For Natasha, it was most often both. “Another Tarkhanov! The world shudders in horror as our bloodline extends. And a cousin for me–I couldn’t be happier. I didn’t think I would get any cousins–it’s hard for dead men to procreate.”
“Yes, it is.” I agreed. “You might get some more cousins if you keep dragging your feet.”
“I hope not. I don’t think I’d enjoy killing children–not like your little sister, or wife, or aunt. I forget, what role did Tatiana play in your family again?”
I surveyed the race ground before me, the perfectly cut grasp and colorful array of dresses. “Careful, Natasha. I’ve killed everyone who stood in my way–can you say the same?”
My niece was ready to take control of Russia but for some reason the twenty-year old hadn’t made her move her. She had kept putting it off since she was eighteen and had amassed enough power to comfortable take control. Natasha had gone into hiding to protect herself from my brothers who now sought to snuff her from the map, but she still hadn’t made her move.
I didn’t think it was because she had suddenly grown a conscious and was afraid to kill her father. Patricide was something Tarkhanov’s did quite well. No, my niece was waiting for something.
“Not yet, Uncle Kostya.” She said. “But soon.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Perhaps I’ll do it in time for your birthday. I’ll send you your brother’s heads as a celebratory gift. I’ll keep my Papa’s, of course. Daughters should always get to keep their father’s heads.” Natasha couldn’t have sounded more casual if she had tried. “Will you let Nikolai keep your head?”
I let out a rumbling laugh. “Careful, Natasha. I am still your uncle.”
She let out another girlish giggle. “I’m so thrilled you have an heir, Uncle Kostya. And that the lovely Elena has returned to you. What should I bring to the wedding? I was thinking a pot of Foxglove–or do you have enough of that?”
“You’re feeling awfully brave today, Natasha. Perhaps you should use this newfound courage for something else despite teasing your uncle.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” Natasha fell silent. “She has not returned for good?”
I won’t ever leave again. “She has.”
“Yet…she has not returned to your bed?” I could almost picture my niece in my mind. Her white-blonde hair surrounding her mischievous expression as she poked her nose into something that was not her business. “Curious.”
“Are you bored, Natasha?”
“Always.” She answered immediately. “I’m finding the world so mundane lately. There is nothing interesting to see or discuss. Is this getting older, Uncle? Is falling out of love with life a part of adulthood?”
I looked over my shoulder at Elena. She remained in the corner of the room, but Danika had joined her. The other girl was speaking rapidly while Elena stayed quiet and listened.
When I had first read her journal article, I had been curious about the mind behind the words. Curiosity had quickly grown into obsession as she had eluded me–and then revealed herself to be the young daughter of a Cosa Nostra mafioso. I would never forget the first time I had laid eyes on her, seen her beautiful features in the background of a photograph.
I would also never forget how I had been denied her hand and then learnt she had been married to Thaddeo Falcone.
I had wanted to Lombardi’s territory; it was more prosperous and buoyant. But…it was missing one crucial thing: Elena.
The excitement, the thrill, the passion. All these emotions I had felt during the hunt for Elena’s heart. Nothing in my life had ever compared to the pleasure that her touch brought and the adrenaline her words stirred inside me. I had never let anyone else so close to my beast, to the monster that lay beneath the charismatic exterior.
There was nothing boring or mundane about our relationship, about our love.
“Yes and no.” I answered my niece’s question but didn’t take my eyes off Elena for one second. “Life becomes familiar, not less exciting. But the predictability makes it easy to enjoy the unpredictable moments. Boredom is good, Natasha, it means you will feel excitement again.”
Natasha made a thoughtful noise. After a moment of silence, she asked, “You’re looking at her, aren’t you?”
“I’m always looking at her.”
She sighed, almost in longing. “I am overjoyed to have an aunt, to be able to love some Tarkhanovs. That is new and interesting.”
Elena met my eyes, her lips parting as her expression opened in vulnerability. I went to step forward, to cross the room to her, but stopped myself.
Patience.
I had enough of discussing my relationship with my niece. I would rather deal with greedy investors who wanted to stud my stallion. I declared, “Take Russia, Natasha. Take your kingdom.”
Natasha was quiet. “And if I fail?”
There were times when I forgot just how young Natasha was. I had been in her shoes once–and knew how bizarre it felt wearing shoes that your feet didn’t fit into. Natasha was afraid and rightfully so. Killing your family and assuming your place as queen was no small task.
“Fail? There is no failure for people like us, Natasha.” I answered. “Since you were a child, you’ve shined brighter than everyone else around you. You have been faster and stronger you’re entire life. The Tarkhanov Bratva will flourish beneath your reign.”
“Tarkh
anova Bratva.” Natasha corrected. “When I become queen, it will become the Tarkhanova Bratva.”
I felt my cheeks crinkle as I smiled. “Very well, Queen Tarkhanova. I hope next time we speak, we are not only uncle and niece but also fellow king and queen.”
“Keep your family out of Moscow, Uncle.”
“Likewise.”
Before she hung up, she said quickly, “Thank you, Uncle Kostya…I–I always considered you more my father than Papa–and if you’re half as good a father to Nikolai than you are to me…then Nikolai is very lucky.”
The dial tone rung before I could respond but Natasha didn’t need me to reply. Her final words had been a message, not a question.
I let myself be drawn into another conversation about studs and mares. My niece’s words hung in my mind, circling around and around. I spoke about money and breeds, but my words were robotic and practised. All I was able to truly to focus on was the turmoil inside of me.
Patience, I reminded myself. Patience.
During the discussion, Artyom invited Elena into the conversation. She reluctantly accepted, positioning herself between us both. The owners and investors tried to draw her into conversation, but her replies were thorny or non-existent and soon they left her alone.
Her scent filled my senses. That sharp but alluring smell of myrrh and cinnamon. It fogged my mind, sending my thoughts into a rumbled frenzy. Only Elena had this effect over me, only she held this power.
“–my mare is currently undergoing testing for the breeding program.” Milton Thomasson, a very wealthy man who had made his fortune on Wall Street and in breeding horses, was talking. “Her mother had three blue-ribbon winning colts–”
I rested my hand on Elena’s lower back. She didn’t flee or snap at me, instead she stepped closer, pressing herself into my side. Electricity thrummed from the places where our skin met.
“–Starlight Dancer won three titles in his day. He will make a good stud for any mare–and produce lots of winners–”
My hand slowly dragged lower and lower, until I could feel the flesh of her ass beneath the fabric of her dress. She smiled into her champagne as I squeezed.
“–I heard Hilarion Troitsky is ready to stud. He’s a very successful horse and I can only imagine how much you’re putting him up for. I’d make millions off his sperm–”
I dropped my hand off, and she snapped her eyes to me. Why did you do that? Her expression demanded.
I just smiled.
She started slightly as I slipped my hand beneath her skirt, skin against skin. Goosebumps rose along her thigh as I brought my hand up higher and higher, until my fingers raked over her bare ass.
“–how is your mare’s pregnancy? Do you know if you’ve got a filly or colt yet? Since Hilarion is no longer racing, I imagine you’re hoping for a colt. If you don’t get one–”
Elena surprised me by adjusting her position, inevitably moving my hand closer to the more sensitive parts of her. My fingers slid under the lacy panties, allowing me better access to her warm flesh. A sharp breath left her as I dragged my finger down her pink slit.
“–I heard Justina Wirtz is studding her stallion next year. What’s his name again? Whatever his name, he’ll be a hefty price. He’s got the best breeding money can buy–”
I watched her expression from the corner of my eye as I circled my nail around her ring. Her lips pressed tightly, her nostrils flaring. She was lucky we were in public–it reduced how much I could actually do to her.
“–some British Duke is meant to be looking for a stallion. I overheard Ren Baylis talking about it–”
Her ass cheeks clenched as I moved further down. To stop myself from groaning, I sipped at my drink, but all my thoughts were of Elena’s juices as the champagne slid down my throat.
She pressed her thighs together as I pressed down on her core, feeling the warmth and wetness that slid over my skin. She was filled with desire and lust, her want for me evident between her legs. Her knuckles went white around the stem of her glass as I kneaded her clit.
“–it’s a shame the weather has been so wet. It’s having an effect on the horse’s performance. Not my colts, of course, but their mother had strong sturdy legs–”
I slid one digit inside of her, relishing at the feel of her hot wet insides. My finger curled around her most sensitive area, and I was rewarded by seeing Elena’s eyes pop. She looked to me as I slid another digit inside, her chest rising and falling sharply. I felt her tightness low in my gut.
I only smiled and took another sip of my drink.
“–did you say what your mare is having again? You’re in search of a new colt, aren’t you? For next season? I think Andrew Waynes’s mare is going to give birth soon to a male–”
So as not to arouse suspicion, I slowly pumped my fingers inside her, even if my gut urged me to go faster and take more. She grew wetter around me, the slickness dripping down my palm. I could feel her insides clenching, her pleasure rising like the tide.
Elena’s lips parted as another breath left her but she did a good job at not revealing anything on her face. Except for a muscle twitching on her neck, Elena was the perfect image of calm.
I wondered if I could destroy that.
When I was satisfied she was aroused enough, I slid a third finger inside of her. She contracted around me, thighs and knees quivering as the pleasure rocked through her. A little moan tried to escape past her lips, but she smothered it beneath a cough.
“–it’s a shame you never got a foal out of Basil the Blessed. Though, you had Hilarion at the time, so I’m sure it wasn’t too much loss–”
Elena was beginning to feel tortured. I could see her lips thinning, hear her teeth gashing together. When I caught her eyes, lust twisted in the green depths like a serpent. She clenched her thighs and unclenched them to try and relieve the building pressure, but there was no relief.
I curled my fingers against pressing down on her G-spot.
Her champagne glass shattered into a thousand pieces as it hit the ground. Shouts spread as liquid soaked shoes and sharp glass scattered over the floor.
I slid my fingers out of Elena, pulling down her dress.
Artyom was sending me a disapproving look. Which was ironic, since Artyom used to believe it was his life’s purpose to see how many ballet intermissions he could fuck Roksana in.
“Are you okay, Elena?” I asked.
She looked down at her smashed glass, cheeks bright red with embarrassment and pleasure. No glass had cut her, I checked.
“Fine. Sorry.” She stepped back, ignoring the other patrons that asked if she was okay. “Excuse me. I…I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Take Danika and two of the men with you.”
“Two?” She seemed surprised but was too dizzy to argue.
Danika skipped beside Elena as they left, almost falling into the onion dip twice. The two left the box, neither looking back.
I could still feel Elena’s juices against my hands and smell her scent on my fingers. She was maddening, addictive. I almost went after her, almost claimed her right then. There was no other way to soothe the thrum of adrenaline and arousal that stirred within me.
I wanted to feel her center against my lips, taste her lust on my tongue. I wanted her screaming, shattering, beneath my control. The next time she shattered a champagne glass, I wanted to bend her over and fuck her–audience be damned.
Patience, I told myself once more. Patience.
Another race begun shortly after, the rumble of the hooves hitting the ground as loud as the thunder in the sky. Elena did not return.
22
Elena Falcone
Danika wanted to ask me something.
She was a pistol of energy beside me, fidgeting with her fascinator until curls of her hair came loose. She kept looking at me, mouth parting with the beginning of a question before quickly turning away.
“What is it?” I ask
ed as we made our way to the bathrooms. Two Vor followed us but remained at a respectable distance. They caught the eye of a few patrons, but no one dared approached, instead choosing to hide their prying stares beneath fans and handkerchiefs. Everyone knew the rumours that surrounded anyone associated with Konstantin Tarkhanov and only the stupid ones would tempt the truth.
Danika stumbled over the cobble-stone path. “Oh, crap!” I caught her before she went down, holding her up by her elbow. “Thanks, Elena. It’s this bloody outfit. The shoes and the hat–I can barely see anything.”
I arched a brow and gestured down to my bare feet. “Take them off.”
“And risk tetanus?” She huffed.
I looked down at her scraped knees and bruised legs. Danika had been falling over and hurting herself since she had been a child. “If you haven’t gotten tetanus by now, I’d say you’re safe.”
Danika poked her tongue at me, but her grin stopped it from feeling malicious. She paused suddenly, face warping as she swallowed down her question.
“What is it?” I repeated.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her eyes darted to me before looking forward once more.
We entered the luxurious bathroom. Women lined up in front of the mirrors but as soon as they saw Danika and I, they excused themselves, rushing out beneath a cloud of perfume. Quickly, the room was empty, and we were alone.
After a few more loaded glances from Danika, I snapped, “Just say it. You’re getting on my nerves.”
She went pink. “Promise you won’t get mad.”
It was my turn to send her a loaded look.
“Fine…” Danika chewed her bottom lip, but her eyes were alight with joy. “Are you and Kostya back together?”
I looked down at the sink to hide my expression from her. My muscles were still quivering from the orgasm Konstantin had fingered me too. I could still feel his digits inside of me, pumping and spreading, each movement designed to make me wetter.
It was an effort to answer. My thoughts were still cloudy with arousal. “No.”