The Heir: (A Dark Mafia Romance) Bratva Blood

by SR Jones

  “If working for them means taking out men who are setting up a global sex-trafficking business, then yes, it is different than the Order. And yes, I want in on that. I don’t want to be a victim anymore. The Order, they gave me jobs, but no real help. Here, I’ll get the training Andrius and K are setting up. If I have to work for a few years for not much more than room and board to pay for shooting K, then I will.”

  “I don’t want to be beholden to him,” Vasily says. “I love the man, but he’s really pissed me off a lot recently.”

  I laugh at that. “Vasily, I think he has a right to be livid. He got shot, three times, and then you married the woman who did it.”

  “I know, but beyond us working off your debt, I don’t want to rely on him. If I decide to come and do this, I want to ensure I have enough money and assets to walk away anytime I want.” He takes hold of both my hands and squeezes. “Anytime we want.”

  “So you’re going home to think?” I ask.

  “Yeah, baby. I need to think, and here I can’t. Not with you, with your big eyes, your hot body, and the sexy fucking way you never back down. You spin my head around, and I can’t figure things out. If I go home for a month or two, I can clear my head. Make plans. Decide what is best for the longer term.”

  Shit, he’s talking months?

  I try not to show my dismay at that.

  “I’ll call,” he says.

  “Of course.”

  I fight back tears because for some reason this feels more like an ending than a pause, and I can’t figure it out.

  “One last hate-fuck?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “No. How about we make love?”

  I stare at him for a moment. “Do you even know how to make love?”

  “I presume it’s like the hate-fucking but with emotion and gentler?”

  I don’t want gentle. Not when he’s leaving. Gentle will break me. I shake my head. “No, hate-fuck or no fuck.”

  His jaw tightens.

  “You have your needs going forward; I have mine. I won’t make love to you before you leave me. I can’t,” I tell it to him straight.

  “Fine. You want me to hate-fuck you?”

  “Yes.”

  He grabs my wrist and drags me out of the room and up the stairs. “You let the whole club see your ass, and that fucker touched it.”

  Let? Oh, no. I turn to say something, but Vasily pushes me through the bedroom door and onto the bed.

  “Get on your hands and knees,” he orders.

  I do as he says, while he stands behind me, me on the bed facing away from him. A large hand smooths the material of the dress up my thigh. “You wore this to get attention, and then you let him spank you.”

  “Technically, I didn’t let him; he just grabbed me.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “What?” I start to straighten, but a firm hand on my spine holds me in place. “Like it? Are you crazy? I hated it. And anyway, I was trying to focus on what I knew was about to come next.”

  “I bet you liked it, ass in the air, the whole club looking at how hot you are?”

  He yanks at my thong and pulls it down my legs, me lifting my knees from the bed to help him. Then he grabs my hair and pulls my head to the side as he takes my mouth in a hot and hard kiss. His tongue duels with mine, and I moan at the feel and taste of him.

  This man. This goddamn man!

  From the first moment I saw him staring at me in the courtyard and pretended to ignore him, he was on my radar. It’s as if the universe read my deepest, darkest desires and created someone just for me. I love this hard side of him, and I love the softer side of him.

  I told him, didn’t I, that I thought I was falling for him, but he hasn’t said it back.

  I’m a fool, and after tonight, he’s going to leave.

  Pushing the thought away, I ask him, “Did you like it? Seeing another man touching me like that?”

  He surprises me when instead of answering, he shoves my thong in my mouth, muffling my words.

  “Shut your mouth.” He smacks my ass hard.

  “Make me,” I say, still muffled.

  “I’ll fuck you until you shut up.”

  “Promises, promises,” I say.

  “Do you want me to stuff them in farther?” he asks.

  I keep quiet at the threat, and he smooths his hand down my hip. “Good girl. See, you can behave.”

  Only in bed, I think with a smirk.

  He reaches around me and pinches my clit then rubs it tenderly.

  When his fingers leave my dripping pussy, I turn my face to look behind me, but he pushes my head back. “Eyes front.”

  The sound of a zip and the rustle of fabric are loud in the room, and I brace for what I hope is coming next. I want this fast and hard, not nice and slow.

  “Yes,” I hiss when his thick cock breaches me.

  He groans and bottoms out in me as he once more finds my clit and plays with it while he fucks me hard.

  He brings his other hand to my mouth and pulls out my thong. “Suck my thumb,” he orders. “Make it nice and wet.”

  I do as he says, and when he’s satisfied, he withdraws it and pushes it slowly into my ass as he fucks my pussy and strums my needy clit. Dear God, he’s talented with that cock of his. Angling himself until he gets the cry from me he wants, he pounds my G-spot.

  His body covers me from behind, and hot breath brushes over my neck as I push back, giving as good as I’m getting.

  Soon, we’re not fucking; we’re basically rutting like mindless animals. I want him so deep inside me I’ll feel him for those months he’ll be gone. I moan and buck against him, and I don’t care if Ilya’s listening to us. I don’t care because any minute, any second, I’m going to explode.

  “Come for me, beautiful,” he says as he pinches my clit.

  And like the good girl I am for him between the sheets, I do. I come and cry out.

  “I hate you so much, Zoey,” he says as he comes too, holding still inside me, spilling hot and heavy.

  “I hate you so much too,” I tell him as a tear falls onto the bed cover below me.

  He withdraws and goes to the bathroom, coming back and wiping me with a wet cloth.

  “Come here,” he says and pulls me up.

  He brushes a tear from my eye and gives me a sad smile. “In some ways, I wish I’d never met you,” he says.

  I know what he means, but it still hurts.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He takes me into the bathroom with him and spends thirty minutes carefully cleaning my various cuts and scratches. Then he leads me back to the bed and holds me all night as I lie awake and stare at the wall.

  Will he ever come back?

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Zoey

  There’s a bird singing in the trees as I watch Esme working hard.

  Vasily has been gone for over a week, and we’ve only spoken twice on the phone. It was awkward. It made me wonder if we do have a future or if we’re simply in lust, and we’ve added layers of emotions on top of that to justify the way we want to screw one another all the damn time.

  There’s so much I want to tell him, like how I enjoy living here, and that Esme has a small garden outside the cottage we’re staying in. Andrius bought her a trough, filled it with soil and compost, and bought her some small plants to go in it. She tends it every day with deep concentration. She’s asking him for a pony next, she tells me. Right now, she’s digging about in the soil with her small spade and frowning. She makes me smile. She fills me with so much love, some days I want to burst with it.

  I rarely see Cassie, and when I do, she mostly ignores me. I get it, and I try not to let it hurt. We’ll never be friends. Today, K comes home, and I don’t know if he’ll let me stay. I’ll offer to work off the debt I owe, since Vasily, I believe, will stay in Moscow.

  Why do I believe it? He hasn’t once said he loves me or even told me how much he misses me. I think he’ll simply stop calling, and that
will be that. He’ll come here sometimes to see his friends, and it will hurt like hell, but I’ll get over it.

  My phone makes the noise of a train whistle, which is the very funny, not, noise Esme chose to alert me to a new email.

  I check it halfheartedly, expecting some sales pitch, and yep, it’s from a shoe store I purchased from once. I haven’t checked my mail in ages.

  I glance down disinterestedly but stop when I see a message from an address I don’t know.

  It’s in what looks like Russian letters, the name on the email, but when I open it, the wording in the mail is English.

  Hey there, Cherry Bomb.

  My heart picks up speed at those words.

  So, it seems I suck at talking on the phone. Who knew? I can’t seem to think what to say or how to tell you all the things I’m thinking. I figured I could hardly be any worse at writing, so I’m giving it a go.

  I miss you. I miss you every day. I want to know so much about you. I know a few things. You like eighties movies and being fucked hard, but there’s a whole world of you I know nothing about. So here goes.

  What do you like to eat the most? Do you prefer to be hot or cold? If you had to choose a vacation, would it be lazing on a beach or trekking somewhere? What’s your favorite band? Who is the one person from history you’d most like to sit down and talk to? Why did you name your daughter Esme? It’s a beautiful name, by the way, and not one I’ve heard often in England.

  Do you want more children? Do you like dogs, or are you a cat person?

  I laugh at that, at him assuming I like either. I do, and I like both, but I prefer cats. I like their independence and their soothing presence.

  Tell me about yourself, gorgeous. What are your hopes and dreams?

  Here is something you don’t know about me. I trekked to Everest basecamp. It was a long time ago now, but it was incredible. The scenery is breathtaking. I got sick, though. Really sick. Some sort of stomach bug, and then the altitude got to me, so the day after I left basecamp and tried to trek back, I collapsed and had to be medivacked out of there. Imagine the shame? I was there with a disparate group of people, but most were office workers and the like. There was me, the big, tough Russian military man, and I had to be helicoptered out of there.

  Write back. Tell me some things I don’t know.

  V. xx

  I decide I will, later tonight when I can sit with a glass of wine and do it properly.

  A car slides up the drive, sleek and big with blacked-out windows, and I brace myself. The King returns.

  Cassie has been staying at the big house with Violet and Andrius since K got shot. She moved her stuff out of one of the guest houses and moved in with them. Violet told me K will stay with them too, while he gets through rehab. It’s a big house, plenty of room.

  I watch as the door opens, and Cassie runs out. She stands by the car bouncing on the balls of her feet. When the doors open, she gives a cry and claps her hands.

  K climbs out, and his arm is in some contraption that I can’t see clearly from where I’m standing, but he holds it at an angle, like when you’ve broken it. I feel sick seeing it, the evidence of what I did, and I swallow it down.

  “Hey, baby.” His hoarse voice carries on the breeze as he bends down and kisses Cassie for all she’s worth.

  Violet and Andrius appear at the door and go to join them. As Violet fusses around K, Andrius hoists his bag from the car and over his shoulder.

  They head into the house, talking and chattering.

  “Konstantin is home,” Esme says, looking up at me with a smile.

  “Yes, baby, he is. It’s good news.”

  It might not be for us, but I don’t tell her that.

  A sense of loneliness hits me suddenly from nowhere, and I internally chastise myself. I have Esme. We’re all the other needs.

  “Mummy, can I get some lavender? Violet says it smells lovely.”

  “Of course we can, darling.” I’m distracted by the gates opening once more, and another car is drawing up the drive.

  “This is probably Uncle Damen,” Esme says knowingly. “He’s going to be visiting often, Aunty Violet told me.”

  I’m not sure how I feel about my daughter suddenly having all these uncles from the Bratva and the Greek mafia.

  The car stops, and the front driver’s side opens. I can’t see the driver because of the glare from the sun.

  “Uncle Vasily,” Esme cries and runs toward the man I can only stare at in shock.

  “Hey, Esme-bee.” He gives her a hug and then pulls something from the bag slung over his shoulder. It’s a box, and he hunkers down to hand it to her. “I got you something all the way from Russia.”

  “What is it?”

  He laughs. “Why don’t you open it and see?”

  She does, and inside the paper bag is a large wooden box. She slides it open, her tongue poking out, and gives a cry of delight. “Oh, wow.”

  I come closer and peer over her shoulder. There’s a beautiful Russian Doll nestled amongst tissue in the box.

  “Violet told me you liked hers,” Vasily says. “I got you one of your own.”

  “I love it, thank you.” She hugs him again.

  “Please may I go inside and look at her?” she asks me.

  “Of course, honey.”

  She runs past us and into the house.

  “You look good,” Vasily says.

  “I do?” I haven’t been sleeping well. Not knowing your future will do that for you. He looks good enough to eat, but I don’t say so.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask casually. “Come to see K?”

  He frowns and gives me a puzzled glance. “No, baby, I’ve come to see you. Sent an email, but didn’t get a reply. Called last night, but no answer.”

  Oh, yeah. I fell asleep watching a film, and when I saw his call, it was far too late to call him back.

  “I got worried.”

  Now it’s my turn to frown. “Let me get this straight. You got worried, and instead of calling Andrius or Violet to check on me, you flew here?”

  “Yes.” He grins. “See, I realized something. You only worry about someone you care for, and I was very worried.”

  “I see.” I start to smile too.

  “I thought if I’m very worried it must mean I care a lot. It didn’t make much sense.” He shrugs. “What with me hating you and all, but I have been worried.”

  “Do you still hate me?” I ask, my voice small because that’s not what I’m really asking.

  He steps closer, and I do too. Now there’s about two feet between us.

  “I ought to,” he says. “You came into my life like some whirlwind and turned it upside down. I’m making a mess of things in Moscow. I can’t focus. You’re stubborn, so damn stubborn.” He turns around and holds his hands out. “I mean look at you, living here amongst people who hate you. That’s stubborn. Do you know what else it is?”

  I shake my head.

  “It’s brave, Zoey. You’re fucking brave. You even put how you felt about me out there and got nothing back. Well, I’m here to tell you now.”

  He steps closer and holds my upper arms as he looks deep into my eyes. “I love you, Zoey. I love you, and I can’t get you out of my head. I want to try to make a life with you and Esme. If you can bear living here with people who hate you, I can live here with my friends, right? And one day, one day I promise you, Zoey, because I know them and I know you, they will become your friends.”

  “Not Cassie,” I say.

  He shrugs. “Maybe not Cassie, no. But the others, they will become your friends. You’ll prove yourself to them repeatedly.”

  “You love me?” I ask him.

  “Yes, I do. A whole fucking lot.”

  “l love you too. A whole bleeping lot as well. You need to stop swearing so much now Esme is around.”

  He laughs, and I love the sound.

  “What about Moscow?”

  He smiles at me. “I’m going to do w
hat K suggested. Shark feed.”

  I don’t know what he means, and it must show. “I’m walking away and letting the sharks fight over the scraps. While they do, we can pick them off more easily.”

  “So you’re here to stay?”

  He nods. “If you’ll have me? I have more than enough money. We can afford a property on the land Andrius has bought. We can build a life out here, get involved in the business with K, but if we need to leave, I have over a million in assets so we can walk anytime we want.”

  “Over a million?”

  “Yeah, I saved some. I would’ve had more if I’d been like Bohdan, shrewd, but I wasn’t.”

  “So we’re doing this?”

  “Yeah, Cherry Bomb, we’re doing this.”

  And then he kisses me.

  Epilogue

  Andrius

  It’s cool today. The wind is blowing up a storm, and we’ve had to stop work on the new property for a week as heavy rain is in the forecast.

  I want the new property livable as soon as possible. We have four crews working on it all. It’s costing a fuck-ton, but it’s worth it. Ever since the news of an audacious hit on one of the most feared crime gangs in Paris, we’ve been sitting ducks.

  Our enemies know we’re after them. We know they’re after us. Game on.

  I’ll feel a lot better at the new property as it’s more defensible, and there will be all of us there but with space for ourselves.

  K is like a brother to me, but he’s a moody fucker now due to the pain and the slog of rehab. He and Cassie are excited for the baby, and she spends lots of time questioning Violet about it all.

  Justina is back in England; said she couldn’t cope with all the female bonding hormones flying around or the baby talk.

  I’m sipping at a coffee on the patio and looking out across to the guest houses. Bohdan is in one with Dasha, and Vasily in the other with Zoey. Reece is in England and will be moving here lock, stock, and barrel next month.

  Bohdan says he’s in on this but only if Dasha isn’t traveling for her career, which she does a lot. He’s essentially become her minder. When she goes away, we have their little dog, and we go feed the cats and birds she had shipped over. The woman has a menagerie. I like her, but K doesn’t. He says she’s changed Bohdan and that if someone changes in that way for someone else, it isn’t good.