Twilight Tears, page 24
“I could have slept for days,” I admit.
“So could I. You two weren’t exactly quiet last night.” He tips his head towards the shared wall between the sitting room and the library. “If you’re going to fuck your fiancée against the bookshelves while I’m living here, pick literally any other wall than this one, okay?”
Luna and I got to talking about the night we met and how I kissed her against the shelves. We couldn’t resist a little reenactment.
“Was that all you heard?” I ask.
“Not even close, but the other three rounds were a lot more muffled, thank fucking God.”
I wince, but as last night replays in my mind, I don’t even feel bad. It’s been weeks since Luna and I have been alone together. It was like a race against physical exhaustion to play out each and every one of the fantasies that took root while we were apart.
I devoured her just like I promised I would, spreading her wide and burying my face between her thighs. Then I slid her to the edge of the bed and drove into her, her legs draped over my shoulders. While she was still coming down from that orgasm, I carried her to the bookshelves where we gave Nik’s bedroom wall a good shake. Finally, I spun her around and took her from behind, whispering every dirty thought I’d had for the last few weeks in her ear until I exploded inside of her.
I’m half-hard now just thinking about it. Maybe I should go back to bed and see if Luna is awake. Morning sex sounds appealing.
“I was about to work out, so are you going to keep daydreaming about your woman or did you have something you wanted to say?”
Nik always had a way of being able to read my mind. But I ignore that and arch a brow. “Working out?”
“I hate to be a male cliche, but every day is arm day right now.” He points to the dumbbells on the floor next to his bed. “So tell me what this is about so I can get to it.”
“I wanted to talk to you. Alone.”
“Okay,” he says cautiously. “About?”
“Business. The path forward with the Gustev Bratva.”
He relaxes noticeably. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that we’re fucked,” I blurt. “Not fucked fucked, but things could be better. I’ve had to hire a shit ton of outside security to cover the mansion and we lost more men than I would have liked during Akim’s attack on the mansion and my attack on the house where he was keeping Luna. Plus, you’re down.”
“Maybe forever,” he grumbles, poking at his legs.
“At least on the front lines, anyway,” I agree. “But with all of that against us, I don’t like the looks of a full-on war with Pavel Gustev right now. Not when I don’t even have any accurate reports of how many men he’s currently operating with.”
I can see the information churning in Nik’s head before he nods. “You’re not wrong. Things have been better.”
“This continual fight with the Gustev Bratva has worn us down, understandably. If we’re going to finally put this feud to bed—which we absolutely fucking are—I think it might be time to call in some backup.”
Nik frowns. “We don’t have any more backup. We’ve called in all of the backup.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about. I’m considering bringing in some outside help.”
“An alliance?” His eyes go wide. “We’ve never done that before.”
“We’ve never needed to. But we’ve also never been in a years-long feud like this. Especially not with a heartbroken child with nothing to lose. Pavel is a loose cannon. We can’t assume he’s going to make the safe call and pull his men back to regroup. He’s willing to die and take as many of his own men down with him as necessary. We have to assume he’s going to attack tomorrow. Today. Right fucking now.”
“And when he does, we need to be ready,” Nik finishes thoughtfully. “Do you have anyone in mind?”
“Dima Baranov.”
“I knew you’d say that,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I’ve been thinking about it since we found out he snatched Budimir away from Pavel. Having that black market connection to more firepower could be helpful, even if it is a friend-of-a-friend situation. And Dima isn’t afraid to poke the bear. He’d be down to fight.”
“Because he’s also a loose cannon,” Nik points out. “Dima would probably destroy Pavel purely for fun without even considering whether it’s beneficial to him or not.”
“Seems like a good quality to me.”
“Unless he turns it on us.”
“So we don’t let him turn on us,” I suggest. “We make sure he stays a friend. Or we kill him before he becomes an enemy.”
Nik goes quiet for a while, mulling over all of the information in his head. I sit back and let him. After a few minutes, he throws up his hands. “I want to say no, but I don’t have a better idea.”
“There’s the excitement I’m looking for,” I say sarcastically.
“Sorry, but it’s hard to drum up excitement when I know you probably already have a meeting scheduled with Dima and I’m going to be stuck here in this fucking bed.” He looks up at me, eyebrow arched. “I’m right, aren’t I? You’ve already put out feelers to meet with him?”
I nod. “I’m meeting with him in two hours. But if you had a good argument against it, I would have canceled.”
“And I’m staying here while you meet with him?”
“I wish you could come,” I tell him. “But it’s too much of a risk right now. I don’t want anyone to know that you’re—”
“Helpless and trapped in a bed,” he snaps.
“Recovering,” I correct, clapping him on the shoulder. “You can come with me once you’re more mobile.”
Whatever that may look like.
Nik’s jaw flexes. Then he jabs a finger at me. “Stay alert and don’t trust anyone but yourself.”
“I never do.”
“I’m serious,” he adds. “Scope out the site before the meeting and make sure Dima comes alone. Don’t let yourself get cornered. You have too much to live for.”
I smile. “Don’t worry, little brother. I’ll take care of myself.”
“Un-fucking-likely,” he grumbles behind my back.
Two hours later, I’m standing in the hollowed-out remains of an old bowling alley with Dima Baranov.
I kept my promise to Nik. I showed up to the meeting an hour early, scoped out the site, and watched as Dima arrived. I made sure he came alone and unarmed.
Now, we’re standing across from each other and he’s wearing a suit and smoking a cigar like he’s a mobster from a cheesy old movie. As if the air in here isn’t toxic enough. I can hear rats scurrying in the rotting walls.
“I’ll do whatever you want so long as I’m the one who gets to kill Pavel.” He puffs a ring of smoke into the dingy air.
I expected Dima to agree to fight, but I assumed it would take some convincing. His easy acceptance feels like a red flag. I can hear Nik in the back of my head, warning me off.
“You don’t even know why I want him dead. You’re willing to make an enemy without any clue why?”
“I don’t care why you want him dead,” he explains. “I care why I want him dead. And that’s none of your business.”
"If I'm putting the safety of my men and family in your hands, it's very much my fucking business,” I snarl. “I’m not going into the trenches with you if there’s any chance Pavel will be able to lure you out.”
“I’m no traitor, Yakov Kulikov. I’ll warn you against suggesting I am.”
“And I’ll warn you against thinking that I’m desperate enough for your help that I’ll handle disrespect. We came here unarmed—as a man of your word, I assume you followed that rule—but I don’t need a weapon to show you what I’m capable of.”
Dima smiles, new respect shining in his eyes. “You’re the one here asking for my help.”
“I have the manpower to take down you and the Gustev Bratva. But as a leader who isn’t a psychopath, I don’t want to send my men into a battle they won’t come home from. I’d rather share the victory with you and keep more of my men alive. That is why you’re here. Not because I need your help, but because I’m powerful enough to ask for it.”
He blows a smoke ring, letting it disappear in the dusty air before he responds. “You want to share a victory with me? That’s good. Because that is my price. You make sure I kill Pavel myself and I’m in.”
“But you won’t tell me why?”
“What I can tell you is that I have a good reason to want every member of the Gustev Bratva to die a slow, painful death. The more of those deaths I can bring about with my own two hands, the better.” He blows another smoke ring. “I can’t tell you more than that. Family business. You get it.”
I don’t like not knowing all of the variables, but Dima is right; I do get it. It’s the reason no one outside of our house knows my brother is paralyzed from the waist down. There are some things you keep close to the vest.
“That’s all you want? I let you kill Pavel yourself and you’re in?” I ask.
“I’m in,” he confirms. “I offer up my men and my resources. Whatever you need, you’ve got it. As long as that little bastard dies by my hand.”
“And I’m in so long as that little bastard dies,” I say. “I don’t care whose hand does the deed.”
Dima smirks. “Then it looks like we’re in business, my friend.”
48
LUNA
Mariya told me to give it a week before her mother—Ofeliya, I’ve since learned—drove me crazy. That estimate seems conservative now.
It’s been one day and I’m losing my mind.
“Yakov should have chosen a room closer to the restroom.” Ofeliya takes my lunch tray off of my lap and hands it to Hope. I tried to go to the kitchen for lunch, but it was deemed too strenuous. “Nik doesn’t need to worry about a restroom since he has a catheter, but it’s a long way for you to walk.”
“I don’t mind walking,” I say quickly. Mostly because I think she might actually try to give me a catheter.
I thought Yakov was protective when I first got pregnant, but Ofeliya is taking it to an entirely different level.
“Sure, but we have to think about what’s best for the babies. Your joints and ligaments are loosening up for delivery by this point. One wrong step and you could blow out a hip.”
“Dr. Jenkins was just here this morning and he didn’t mention that as a concern.”
The only problem is still my stupid blood pressure. I didn’t tell Ofeliya about it, but she managed to find out, anyway. According to her, I need to start taking cold showers and eating dark chocolate. The medication isn’t touching my blood pressure, but surely her old wives’ tales are going to do the trick. Or so she thinks.
“Men don’t know the things a woman goes through when they’re pregnant,” she says dismissively. “They are clueless.”
I manage a polite smile. “He’s a doctor.”
“Still.” She waves it off and finishes loading up the tray in Hope’s arms. “Take this to the kitchen and refill Luna’s water.”
Hope nods, meeting my eyes briefly on her way out the door. She’s been in and out of my room all day, but I haven’t had a chance to talk to her once. Not with Yakov’s mom ordering her around.
Ofeliya is taking care of me—that’s nice, right? My own mother seemed relieved when I was finally old enough to take care of myself. She was never interested in the maternal aspects of being a mom. I should be grateful.
I am grateful, I decide. I’m going to do my best to appreciate Ofeliya’s obvious concern for me.
Suddenly, she lunges for the corner of the mattress, her face creased in worry. “Has anyone changed this out today?”
“My bed?”
“The sheets.” She runs her thumb over some mascara smeared in the bottom corner. “It’s dirty.”
I remember when that particular stain was made and my entire body flushes with embarrassment. Yakov was driving into me from behind and I had to bury my face in the bed to keep from waking the entire house.
“It’s fine. It’s nothing, actually. I don’t mind.”
“What do we pay these people for if not to take care of things like this?” She shakes her head. “I’ve been telling Yakov since I got here that he needs to restructure his staff. Before my husband was—When I lived here,” she says instead, “I kept the staff on a tight leash. If you don’t, nothing gets done. You know what they say: if you want something done well, do it yourself.”
I don’t see what that particular saying has to do with this situation since we’re literally talking about hiring people to help run the house. But I smile and nod anyway.
“After the two of you get married, it will be your job.” She delivers that little tidbit like a present. Like my life’s goal should be to manage the staff.. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
I think I already know everything I need to know, actually. I know I don’t want to run my house the way Ofeliya did. What I don’t know is how to tell her that.
“I’m going to find Hope and have her bring in some new sheets,” Ofeliya announces, heading for the door. “Is there anything else you need?”
Before I can answer, Mariya appears behind her mother in the doorway. “The only thing Luna needs is a visit from me and my stack of bridal magazines.”
“Actual paper magazines?” I ask, sitting up to try and get a better view.
Mariya fans the magazines out on the bed. “All of your favorite movies existed before the internet. I took a leap and figured you’d like this over a Pinterest board.”
I could kiss Mariya. Honestly. Being back in the mansion has been amazing, but I need something to pass the time and keep me from starting a fight with Yakov’s mom. There’s enough family feuding going on without me starting one on home turf.
But before I can even reach for a magazine, Ofeliya appears between us and swipes them into a stack. “Luna has more important things to do than flip through silly magazines with you, Mariya. She’s growing the future of this family.”
I hold a finger to stop her. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind—”
“Besides, we don’t need any of these for wedding plans.” She tucks them under her arm. “Marrying into a family like ours comes with a lot of traditions. One of those is that the outgoing matriarch handles the planning. It’s my gift to you, Luna.”
I blink at her, too gobsmacked to come up with anything to say.
Mariya doesn’t say a word, but she doesn’t have to. The tilt of her head and the arch of her brow say more than enough. I told you so.
Ofeliya pulls the comforter up around my waist and turns for the door. “I’ll take care of everything, Luna. You just sit back and relax.”
I watch her disappear into the hallway while Mariya’s stifled laughter turns into full-on cackles. “I told you. I freaking told you. One day in and you hate her, don’t you?”
“I don’t—” I kick Mariya’s leg from under the blankets and lower my voice. “I don’t hate her. I never said that. She’s… she’s trying to help.”
“She’s driving you crazy and trying to take over your life. Admit it.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You brought those magazines in on purpose. You knew she’d do that.”
“I had a hunch,” she admits with a giggle. “I tried to tell you what she was like, but you didn’t want to listen. I thought you deserved to know what you’re in for.”
I groan. “What does a Kulikov wedding even entail? Maybe I can just suck it up and let her do things the way she wants. I mean, it can’t be that—”
“The dress she wants you to wear on your big day has a lace headband and shoulder pads up to your ears.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes,” she cackles. “And if you don’t kill that cursed dress now, it will live on and haunt me at my wedding one day. For self-preservation purposes, if nothing else, I’m firmly on your team.”
I sag back against the headboard. “This is too much stress. Maybe Yakov and I can elope. We’ll just go to the courthouse and—”
“‘Bring shame and humiliation upon the entire Kulikov family. What would Yakov’s father say if he were here to see this?’” Mariya’s voice is two octaves higher than normal, her face creased in mock disappointment. “‘I knew you weren’t the right woman to continue the honorable lineage of this noble family. To the dungeons with you!’”
“That got a little farfetched at the end. Your mom wouldn’t banish me to the dungeons. But I see your point.”
“You say that now, but give it another day,” Mariya says. “You’ll realize there is nothing Ofeliya Kulikov won’t do to stick her nose all up in your business. Why do you think I fled the country?”
“It’s not like you were on the run. Your mom put you on a plane.”
“Exactly! I’m her own flesh and blood and she put me on a plane to live in another country, all because I wouldn’t do what she wanted. You really think the dungeon is out of the question for you?” She shakes her head. “Nuh-uh. I don’t think so.”
I know Yakov won’t let that happen, but my hopes for a healthy relationship with his mother feel like they’re slipping away.
“You have a big decision to make, Luna, but if you want my opinion, I say you push back and start your own traditions. It’s time for this family to update. Which is ironic, since you’re flipping through magazines for wedding ideas as if the internet doesn’t exist.” Mariya reaches under the bed and pulls out another stack of bridal magazines. Slapping her hand on the top, she plops it in my lap. “You might want to keep this batch hidden or they’ll end up in the trash, too.”
I’m still flipping through the stack of magazines Mariya left for me hours later, but I can’t process any of the information. The pictures of updos and tulle-covered archways wash over me while my mind whirls.
How am I going to tell Ofeliya I hate her wedding dress? I mean, technically, I haven’t seen it, so I don’t know for sure that I hate it. But a lace headband and shoulder pads don’t sound promising.
