The Russian Bodyguard: A Dark Mafia Romance (Krasnov Brothers Book 3)

by Rie Warren

  He had been untouched by emotions until Jo came screaming and kicking into his life. The mop-headed woman we’d all thought was a boy due to the O’Sullivan’s trickery.

  Now his happiness seemed uncontained. Not that he was any less dangerous. He was probably even more lethal now—the Zolotov enforcer—because he had a family of his own to protect.

  When the baby was passed to Sasha at her insistence, my throat became clogged.

  She babbled down at the bundle, and tiny arms waved up at her as if Saoirse recognized her namesake immediately.

  The scene touched me in a way I was unprepared for.

  When the tears came that time, I knew Sasha shed them not from sadness but from sheer happiness.

  And this was why she had gone with Oleg, why she’d let him take her. In order to keep everyone else safe.

  How had I ever thought of her as spoiled and selfish?

  The following evening, Baba and Yury visited.

  Sasha squealed delightedly over her reunion with her grandmother, both of them rambling in Russian.

  At length, Baba heaved herself up from the bed. “Now I go cook. I brought groceries.”

  She stopped in front of me, pulling me into her bosom and patting my head like I was a child instead of a grown man. “You good boy. Thank you for rescuing Sasha.”

  Only after his mother left the room and the sounds of pots and pans drifted back to us did my pakhan move ponderously toward his daughter.

  He sat in the chair beside the bed but pulled it up close.

  For a very long time, he did nothing but stare at Sasha as if making sure she really was alive. I knew the feeling. That was all I’d done for days. And nights.

  Then he grasped her hands in his and kissed the backs of them. “Mama told me about the letters she gave to you.”

  Sasha blinked up at him. “Baba said it was okay. I can give them back if you want. I just—”

  “Nyet. They are yours. It is what Liliana would’ve wanted. For you to know her.”

  “I’ll go help Baba.” I felt like I was intruding on something private between the two even though I knew all about the letters and Sasha had read some of them to me.

  “Nyet. Maksim, you stay,” Yury ordered.

  He kept his gaze steady on his daughter. “I am sorry I kept her to myself all these years, Sasha. I was . . . selfish man.”

  “No, Papa.” Sasha hugged him around the middle. “You were just so hurt. I know that now.”

  “You are good daughter to me.” Voice brusque, he held onto her a moment longer. “I have brought some of her belongings for you.” Glancing at me from beneath heavy brows, he gave me another order. “Maksim, bring the box over.”

  When he’d entered, he’d placed a small carved chest on the dresser.

  I delivered the box to him and lingered close by when he motioned for me to stay.

  After opening the lid, he turned the chest toward Sasha.

  Countless pieces of elaborate jewelry filled the velvet-lined case. Gems of all colors twinkled; silver, gold, and platinum the metal that shone from within.

  “It’s too much, Papa.”

  He snorted. “Bah. No such thing. You can give some to Jo and Saoirse if you want. And Lucia too.”

  My hand went to my chest when Sasha’s eyes began to glimmer.

  Yury settled one brawny palm on the side of her face.

  “And someday you will give them to a daughter of your own,” he said.

  Nodding, Sasha peered down at the array of jewelry, and Yury plucked out a simple gold cross.

  “This Liliana wore every day.”

  Then from a pocket of his jacket, he brought out a framed photo. “You see it here.”

  Sasha leaned over, and I did too.

  The woman, her mother Liliana, was stunning. She was the reason Sasha had grown into such a beauty.

  “For you too.” The pakhan handed her the frame. “I have same photo.” He patted his breast pocket.

  Tears plopped down Sasha’s cheeks as she cradled the photograph against her chest.

  Then she laughed weakly. “I’m getting really sick and tired of blubbering all the time.”

  I simply passed her some tissues and rubbed her back, feeling the warmth of her heating my palm. I marveled over this woman I’d fallen in love with.

  “This I will give to my son-in-law.” From the innards of the chest, Yury retrieved a men’s watch. “My first watch when I thought I was big man. Poljot is Russian, the best.” He winked at me. “I had engraved with the date of my wedding. Now also engraved with the date of yours to my Sasha.”

  The watch was big, chunky, and probably expensive, not that I knew the price of a vintage Poljot. “It is too much.”

  “You will take it,” he insisted. “I have many watches. Sasha buys them for me. She has not given one to you yet?”

  “Papa! In between all the abductions and falling in love I’ve hardly had time,” Sasha scolded him.

  My brows shot high while a large smile made Yury’s jowls shake.

  “I was right about you two.” He looked eminently pleased. “Should have forced you to marry her long time ago. Save myself all this—how do they say—gray hair.”

  He chortled away to himself, nodding at both of us.

  I took the heavy watch, bending my head toward my pakhan. “Thank you, Papa.”

  “Let me help you put it on, Maksim.” Sasha’s nimble fingers made quick work of the clasp then the watch began ticking on my wrist, counting the seconds we would be together, her and I.

  And now I was truly part of the family too. No longer unrooted.

  “I am tired of being waited on hand and foot,” Sasha complained several days later.

  I placed a tray of food on the table beside the bed. “Not something I thought I’d ever hear you say.”

  “Very funny.” Her gorgeous eyes narrowed at me. “Seriously though. This isn’t the middle ages. I’m not some damsel in distress who needs to be bedridden.”

  She pouted so prettily I had to drop a kiss to her lips.

  Kissing was all we’d done since the kidnapping.

  I didn’t know if she wanted more. How would I know she was ready?

  Regardless of the uncertainty, my cock knew exactly what it wanted. Almost every hour of every day.

  I slept with a hard-on and woke up in the same condition.

  I wanted to fuck Sasha so much my balls were full of cum that had no place to go because I refused to jerk off and waste what wanted to be in her pussy and her mouth.

  And then I became disgusted with myself for entertaining such sordid thoughts after what she’d endured.

  Sasha mewled after I drew back from her sweet lips.

  Her fingertips walked up the center of my chest, but at least they hadn’t headed south below the waist.

  Again, I was hard for her.

  Stepping back when she swung her legs to the edge of the bed, I suppressed a groan.

  As she came into view, I saw she wore nothing but panties on the bottom, which I hoped were more than a thong. Her bare legs called to me, rounded and healthy but still with a bandage around her thigh.

  Above, nothing but a silky tank top covered her, and her breasts almost toppled free from the thin covering.

  I remembered my dirty promise to pierce her nipples.

  Da. It appeared I’d have an erection for the rest of my life.

  Sasha stood up, her gaze sweeping over me to land on the prominent bulge in my jeans.

  I cleared my throat.

  Her ice-colored eyes lifted, and she chewed on her bottom lip. “Anyway, I never did anything with those trunks of clothes you brought over.”

  Did she mean to return to the mansion?

  Not that I’d let her.

  I stalked to the large walk-in closet—possibly to put some distance between us before I pounced on her—and opened the door wide.

  Her outfits mingled with my few suits, so there was plenty of room in the huge spa
ce for her many, many dresses and the racks of her many, many high heels.

  She waltzed to my side, and I was glad to see the limp was almost gone. After peeking into the lighted interior of the closet where her entire wardrobe hung neatly, she glanced up at me.

  “Did you unpack all my clothing? My shoes? My accessories?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I was bored.”

  “Reallllly?” Her smile formed, slow and delicious. “Are you blushing, Maksim?”

  I would not answer that.

  Instead, I said, “I had the dresses dry cleaned.”

  Spinning from the closet, she sauntered away.

  My eyes followed her hip-swinging gait.

  “Interesting,” Sasha murmured.

  Standing across from me, she trailed a lone finger down her neck and to the top of her cleavage in an inviting and unmistakable gesture. “You know what?”

  Feeling like I was choking on something, I managed to ask, “What?”

  “I think clothes are overrated.” She teased the bottom of her tank top up until the undersides of her ripe tits bounced into view.

  “I see.” I swallowed.

  “And I think it’s okay for you to touch me now.”

  I nodded stiffly.

  Everything on me was stiff.

  Several paces away, Sasha took off the silky top.

  My jaw clenched, hard.

  Her tits were as magnificent as I remembered. The rouge-colored nipples practically pleading for me to devour them from atop the big creamy mounds.

  She was mostly healed. And so fucking hot.

  Desire sizzled between us.

  She peeled her panties down to the same affect. Basically me drooling as I watched, captivated, enchanted, enthralled.

  And very, very hard.

  I couldn’t wait to leap on her, and my temperature rose. My vitals went crazy. My chest pumped in and out.

  That tiny little strip of chestnut-colored curls above her cunt was begging for me to go down on her with my tongue.

  Standing in front of me so unabashedly and unbelievably naked, Sasha smirked. “Don’t be shy.”

  “I have never been shy, Mrs. Krasnova. Stoic is the word.” Unlike her, I flung off my clothes with no care or forethought.

  “Mmm. Maybe grumbly and crotchety.” A thousand fires blazed in her pale irises, melting them.

  Melting me.

  “Crotchety?” I fisted my cock, running my hand up the length until the ring on my finger that matched her wedding band plinked loudly against the PA piercing. “You make me sound like I’m an old man.”

  “Never that,” she purred with a sensuous giggle.

  “You know it.”

  “Come and get me.” Whirling, she gave me a flash of her plump backside before dashing out the bedroom door.

  Sasha could run, but she would never get far, this wife of mine.

  26

  Sasha

  THAT FIRST TIME WITH Maksim again hadn’t been about fucking. It had been . . . lovemaking. There was no other way to describe his slow sensual rhythm . . . the long languorous kisses . . . his arms that held me, hands that caressed, the vibrancy in his silver eyes that never looked away from mine.

  I’d shuddered with release just before he did, relieved that my body had answered the call to his. I knew then I could survive. I could reclaim myself. Ultimately I would be okay.

  That was when I began returning to myself and turning away from Oleg’s horrific abuse. And I could begin to forget that hideous hellhole of an apartment too.

  It helped as well to learn that Maksim had burned down the building with those two bodies inside.

  So, no. Oleg would never conquer me, just like I’d told him.

  After that day, I did what any well-adjusted abduction victim would do. I threw myself into work on The Hammer and the Sickle. When I first returned to my tasks down on the main floor, often huddling with Lucia over laptops or unpacking items for the bar, I noticed a distinct change among both my father’s soldiers and my husband’s brothers.

  While they’d always treated me tolerantly, now I was regarded with respect. Not just as a Bratva heiress but as a brave woman in my own right.

  Or maybe Maksim had threatened everyone with a beatdown if attitudes didn’t change. I certainly wouldn’t put that past him.

  Finally, one Saturday in mid July, after almost a year’s worth of planning and preparation and setbacks and kidnappings, it was the night of The Hammer’s grand opening.

  Maksim had headed downstairs before the doors officially opened, but I decided to take my time getting ready. It’d been forever since I’d dressed up and I was going to do it to the nines tonight.

  When I finally made my appearance, the pull of the club called to me like the blood running through my veins.

  The atmosphere here was different than that of The Cat and the Sickle. Darker and grittier although no less luxe. It was as if Lucia, as lead designer, had read the core of Maksim—all the concrete floors and stripped-down décor reflected his rough and ready ways.

  I wholeheartedly approved.

  Lights glinted from razor sharp chandeliers, creating a cascade of designs on the polished black floor and illuminating the massive bar.

  Music started a thumping inside my chest, and people who could afford the very best filled the club to capacity.

  But among all those patrons, I knew when I’d been spotted by the only man who could cause my body to curl with desire with one single look alone.

  Spinning slowly, I locked my gaze on him.

  Mmm mm mm. My man.

  He wore a new suit for the occasion, and I approved of the finely tailored cut too.

  He looked dark, forbidding. Dangerous, and more savage than suave.

  His approach the predatory type as if he’d marked me as his target, I moved only to accept a glass of champagne one of the bartenders passed to me.

  His glance shifting, he scoped me out thoroughly, the muscle at the back of his sharp jaw ticking when he got his fill of my outfit.

  As he reached me, his hand wrapped right around my waist, long fingers dangling at the top of my ass. “You took your time coming down.”

  I sipped from my bubbly. “Was I worth the wait?”

  His growl made fine hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

  “What do you think?” His low voice cut close to my ear then his lips claimed mine.

  Before breaking away, his deep rough kiss compelled a moan from my throat.

  “That’s da then.” I winked at him, and he chuckled.

  “Da. Always worth the wait.”

  I snuggled into his side, excitement effervescing through me. “Oh hell yeah. I’ve missed this.”

  An indulgent smile crossed his rugged face. “The champagne?”

  “Yes. But no. The dancing. The crowds. Being part of something bigger than myself.”

  He grumbled a non-noise. “If I had my way, I’d keep you locked up in a room for safekeeping.”

  Then he flattened his lips as if he hadn’t meant to admit that.

  But come on. Who was he kidding?

  He’d always be possessive and overprotective, but that intense side of him no longer bothered me.

  He was mean when he had to be. A killer when it was necessary. And capable of some pretty gruesome acts. But that lethal side of him came from a place of duty. Of honor. Of upholding the lives of family and the Bratva above all else.

  Besides, I knew how to handle him. Mostly.

  “You don’t say, Maksim. You want to lock me up?” I smiled at his aggrieved expression then looped my arms around his neck. “You have tied me up, and I didn’t have any complaints about that, did I?”

  I pulled his mouth to mine, my tongue outlining his perfect masculine lips before he took the lead. The scorching power of his tongue swashed a path into my own mouth, his lunge and retreat so much like his wild fucking.

  His domineering nature shifted into male dominance of the s
exual kind.

  I so knew how to handle him. Except my feet teetered in my stilettoes when he leaned away from me.

  Trying to even out my panting breaths, I cast flirtatious eyes at him. “Also, I seem to remember one part of my wedding vows including promising I’d obey your every command.”

  He barked a gruff laugh.

  Then his liquid silver eyes flared hotly. “That you did, Sashenka.”

  Hips switching back and forth, I left him to drool after me. I’d specifically chosen the shortest dress and the highest heels in my vast wardrobe to add to tonight’s electrically charged tease.

  The deep red silk was no more than a spaghetti-strapped shift dress but—cinched at the waist with a thick gold belt and with a generous figure like mine—it could verge on the obscene. Add to the high hemline the needle-sharp heels, and Maksim would be ripping the clothes off of me by the time we made it back to the apartment.

  I couldn’t wait.

  My two worst scars were visible in the outfit and they were not pretty. I no longer cared. I didn’t cover the one on my shoulder or my thigh with makeup, and I hadn’t considered more extensive plastic surgery.

  The uneven circle and the jagged line would remain as marks upon my flesh denoting the struggles I’d survived.

  Maksim made a point not to gloss over the permanent puckers on my body.

  As he became reacquainted with me—hotly, sensually, often hard and rough the way I liked him—he would always end by kissing the two places like he could take my pain into his body, and in most ways he did.

  At any rate, this night was a cause for celebration. I wasn’t about to waste time lamenting all my booboos.

  Besides, having only been open for a couple of hours, this new venture was destined to become a roaring success. How could The Hammer not be? With The Cat and the Sickle drawing mega money and massive crowds, the sister venue was gonna kill it.

  I fully understood the club would benefit the Bratva as more than just a place for hard partiers and heavy drinkers to hang out. Papa’s organization would now be able to funnel twice as much cash through the business accounts.

  Win, win.

  I made my way to the cordoned off VIP section, aware of Maksim shadowing behind me. His larger than life presence that I used to despise was now a shivery deliciousness that kept me alert to him at all times.