Mafia Light Box Set

by S. C. Daiko

  My heart skitters.

  I hitch Kir to my hip and go to open.

  In a beat, strong arms have enveloped us. Inhaling the scent of warm sandalwood and cigars, I lift my face to Gleb’s. His kiss is firm, and his eyes are filled with so much love I could cry.

  He hands me the bottle of champagne he’d put in a bag on the floor before hugging us. “For later,” he says, winking. Then he gives our son his gift, a Russian teddy. “I managed to buy it at Moscow airport.”

  “Say thank you, Kir,” I smile.

  “Spasibo,” he lisps, holding the bear.

  With a lopsided grin, Gleb swings him over his head onto his broad shoulders. “I swear you’ve grown since I last saw you, little bud.”

  I put the bottle in my fridge and follow Gleb’s bouncing steps upstairs. I stand beside him as he kisses Kir on the forehead, settles him on his mattress and pulls up the comforter. Our son immediately reaches for his pacifier and starts sucking. I tuck my ancient teddy next to him alongside his new one.

  Gleb puts his arm around me, holding me close and silently brushing soft kisses to my cheeks while we watch our baby’s heavy eyelids shut.

  Down in the kitchen, I order Tonkotsu Ramen to be delivered while Gleb pops the bottle of champagne.

  We clink glasses, then he gives me a blow-by-blow account of his meeting with Mikhail Balandin; my jaw drops farther with every word.

  I have so many questions, I don’t know where to start. But we’re interrupted by the arrival of our dinner.

  Gleb goes to the door to accept the order while I put a couple of plates on my small kitchen table, smiling as he returns with the food.

  Hungrily, I pick up my chopsticks and suck the noodles between my lips. I feel Gleb’s burning gaze on my mouth, and heat spreads through me. We’re not just hungry for food; we’re hungry for each other, but I need to ask my questions first.

  “Do you think what Balandin said about Natasha is true?” I take a sip of champagne and the bubbles tickle my nose.

  Gleb slurps a mouthful of braised pork with noodles, chews and swallows. “I remembered her real name. The age fits.” He presses his lips together in a slight grimace. “It’s the only explanation for her turning up in Colorado. And the fact she wanted you to meet her for that so-called lunch.” He shudders. “My guess is she’d have tried to kill you if Dmitry hadn’t stopped you from going to her.”

  I reach across the table for his hand. “I owe him my life.”

  “Yours and Kir’s.” Gleb lifts my fingers and kisses them.

  “I had no clue you were so closely linked to Mikhail Balandin.” I slurp another noodle. “Are you sure we are safe now?”

  “The word will already be out that I’m no longer of interest, Kiska. In fact, you and Kir can move back in with me tomorrow.” He shrugs. “A different Vor will take over my money lending and loan shark businesses. I’m selling up and we’ll start that new life in Colorado we discussed before I went to Moscow.”

  “I can get a job,” I lift my chin. “To help with expenses.”

  His laugh is gentle. “I have more than enough funds. Realizing my assets will bring in even more.” He shrugs. “Except I’m not the kind of guy to sit around doing nothing all day.” His gaze meets mine. “How would you feel about running a business with me?”

  I stare at him incredulously. “Wh... wh... what type of business?”

  “There’s an old theatre up for sale in Denver and some derelict stores. We could turn them into something real trendy. Like an arts and entertainment center. Your parents could have one of the premises for a studio. You could also go back to school, if you like. Get your dance qualification.”

  I’m completely speechless; I can only let out a sob.

  Gleb pushes his plate to the side and draws me into his arms. “Shush, Kiska. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I’m not upset,” I gulp. “I’m overwhelmed.”

  “So, you agree?” He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear, his mesmerizing eyes burning into mine.

  “Yes, oh yes,” I smile so wide my face almost cracks.

  He takes a quick sip of champagne. “There’s something else I need to ask you.”

  His expression has turned serious, and my heart skips a beat.

  Without warning, he gets down on one knee.

  My pulse skyrockets.

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box.

  I touch my parted lips.

  “I hope you like it,” he says, opening the container and revealing the most exquisite sapphire ring, the same blue as his eyes. “I love you, Elousha. Would you do me the honor of agreeing to be my wife?”

  “Gleb,” my voice trembles and my eyes fill with tears. Again, I’m speechless.

  “Why are you crying?”

  “These are happy tears.” My breath catches. “The ring is beautiful.”

  “So, what’s your answer, Eva?” He pulls back slightly. “I don’t deserve you, but I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

  The bubbles of joy in my chest explode. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

  His eyes locked with mine, he slides the ring onto my finger, and it fits perfectly. “Ya lyublyu tebya. I love you with all my heart.”

  He gets to his feet, pulls me into his arms and kisses me. Gentle at first, then deep and possessive, his mouth bruising my mouth, his thumb pressing into the base of my neck. “I’ve got to be inside you, Kiska. I want to feel you all around me.”

  I let out a little whimper. “I want that too, Gleb.”

  He lifts me, carries me up to my room, and puts me down on the carpeted floor. We stand toe to toe, wanting, needing, our breaths rasping. Without saying a word, we pull off our clothes, our greedy eyes feasting on each other.

  God, he’s gorgeous. All hard muscle. And his cock! Heavy, veined, ready for me.

  “Come here,” he growls.

  I stand in front of him and stretch upwards. He bends his head to kiss and suck on my neck, making me tingle all over. Groaning, he grabs my ass and pulls me into him, rubbing his hardness into my soft belly. “On the bed, now,” he barks, releasing me.

  I do as he commands, lying spread-eagle, staring up at him.

  He crawls between my thighs and grinds his pelvis against mine. Rubbing his dick slowly up and down my slit, building pressure, he kisses my mouth deep and then licks my chin, my neck, the hollow at my throat.

  I moan and grip his ass cheeks, kneading them.

  He wraps my hair around his fist and lowers himself. His flesh meets my hot skin; I dig my nails into his shoulder. He takes my hand and bites my wrist softly.

  I cup his beard and press my lips to his, opening for him, inviting his tongue to penetrate my mouth and claim me. We kiss slowly, passionately, hungrily as he slides into me, covering me with his body. I flatten my tits into his rock-hard chest. It’s like we have become one.

  We kiss, lick, bite and groan as our bodies rock together. He thrusts deep and I clench around him. I open my mouth against his neck and suck on his taut skin. His hips pump faster, and my wetness drips out of me. My pussy grabs at him and he pushes me beyond pleasure into such ecstasy that I’m no longer myself but a part of him.

  His cock spasms, and the force of his release tips me over the edge. My legs tremble, and I climax calling out his name. He kisses up my neck to my mouth. “God, how I love you,” he moans.

  “I love you too, Gleb, I love you so much.”

  He stays inside me, and I feel his heartbeat against my chest. He kisses me again, gently, beautifully, then stares deep into my eyes. “We’re a proper family now, Elousha. You’ve made me the happiest I’ve been in my life.”

  I loop my arms around him, breathing him in. “Me too, Gleb.” I kiss him on the lips. “Me too.”

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later

  Gleb

  I’m sitting next to Daniel, my best man, in the front pew of the Russian Church in Denver. Eva has opted for an orthodox
wedding, and I’m happy to go along with it. The scent of incense burning fills the air, and a choir is singing hymns in my native language.

  I straighten my black bow-tie and blow out a breath. My brother and I are early... it will be some minutes before Elousha and her entourage arrive. Russians traditionally turn up at the church with their bride, but we’re doing things differently.

  Nervous excitement squeezing my gut, I think back over the past six months. The day after I proposed to Eva, she and Kir returned to live with me and we started planning our future. Sergei revealed himself to be Balandin’s spy. My bartender, of all people! He said he’d needed the money, just like that fucker Alik. I’d wanted to punch the living daylights out of Sergei, but I restrained myself; unlike Alik, he hadn’t deliberately harmed anyone.

  I sold Lure as a going concern a month later. The same buyer also bought my estate and took over all my other businesses. His name is Taras Melekhov, and he’s one of Balandin’s puppets. I feel no regret at leaving my former life behind. Eva and Kir are my life now, they fulfil me in ways I’d never dreamed of.

  We stayed on in Fairwood until Eva’s parents’ ballroom dancing business had been sold. Thanks to the funds I invested in it, they were able to find a buyer three months ago, and we all moved to Denver together.

  Eva and I had already chosen a penthouse condo, a corner apartment with a wrap-around terrace and fourteen-foot tall floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s one giant room that holds the kitchen, the dining room space, and the family room. Three bedrooms only. Yuri and Olga look after the place in Beaver Creek for us, and we go up there most weekends.

  Ludmila and Ivan live on the floor below; they’ll be taking over one of the stores I’m redeveloping and turning it into an ultra-modern dance studio next year. I’m grateful they agreed to change their lives for us and will help them as much as I can.

  A sudden shift in the tempo of the hymn singing and the congregation stands. Daniel places his hand on my shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. I get to my feet, turn and feast my eyes on Elousha, making her way down the aisle on her father’s arm.

  She looks so goddamn beautiful, her hair in a chignon under a trailing white veil, and a figure-hugging white silk dress. Kir is following behind them holding his mom’s train. Catrin, maid of honor, is keeping a close watch on him. At the front of the church, she scoops him up and takes him to sit with his cousins for the rest of the service.

  I bend and whisper to my kitten. “You look stunning. Ya lyublyu tebya.”

  Her amber eyes glowing, she mouths the words back at me.

  Standing before the altar, we exchange rings. My heart overflowing, I take her hand; we keep them joined, as tradition demands, to show we have become ‘one’. The priest places crowns on our heads, signifying we are now king and queen of our own family. We share a cup of wine and follow him three times around the lectern to symbolize our journey into married life. Then he takes the crowns off, pronounces us married, and gives the benediction. I kiss Eva, whispering my love.

  Her parents come up and offer us a crystal glass each. We throw them on the floor, mustering all our strength to shatter them into as many tiny shards as possible; every piece signifies a year of happy marriage.

  No one bothers to count them. All of us are ready to get to the reception and party the night away.

  Kir runs up to us, “Mama, Papa,” and I lift him up before he can tread on Eva’s veil.

  Still holding her hand, our son on my hip, we exit the church man and wife.

  Later, after myriad toasts and enough food to feed an army, I take Eva in my arms for our first dance. “Happy?” I ask performing the waltz Ivan choreographed for us.

  “So happy... there’s something I want to tell you.” She blushes.

  I think I know what’s coming... she stopped taking her pills right after I proposed, saying Kir needed a little brother or sister and she wanted to give birth before going back to school. She hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol in weeks.

  Dare I hope?

  She places my fingers on her lower stomach. “Guess who’s in there?” she giggles. “I’m pregnant.”

  I whoop and lift her, twirling her around and kissing her forehead, her nose, her cheeks and finally her mouth.

  “Kiss. Kiss. Kiss,” our friends and families shout.

  So, I kiss my wife, going for the world duration record, until Kir runs up to us squealing, “I wanna dance with you, please,” and we break apart laughing. We hold him between us, swaying to Savage Garden’s Truly Madly Deeply.

  In my periphery, I catch Brash dancing with his plus-one, the latest in a long line of girlfriends. He’s at college now, aiming to major in software development, but I think he enjoys the social life more than studying.

  Daniel and Catrin take to the floor, moving in unison, as totally wrapped-up in each other as ever.

  Ludmila and Ivan are showing us all how ballroom should be danced, however, gliding across the room on the lightest of feet.

  Even Yuri is dancing, holding Olga stiffly. Could there be romance on the cards? Hmm, she’s still mourning Dmitry. Maybe someday...

  The soundtrack changes to the Black-Eyed Peas I Gotta Feeling, and the rest of what Daniel calls his ‘tribe’ join in, his teenaged step-daughter, daughter and other sons, busting their groove to the music. They aren’t Russian but American, through and through. Just like my own kids, and I’m glad of that.

  How far my brother and I have come from the back streets of Moscow.

  I stare down at Eva and Kir, loving them so much a lump blocks my throat.

  They are mine.

  They. Are. Everything.

  Eight Months Later

  Eva

  I’m sitting up in the hospital bed, holding my daughter in my arms. She turns her head, nuzzling into my breast for milk. We’ve named her Irina after Gleb and Daniel’s mom, a woman I would so like to have met. I kiss my baby’s soft downy head. She was born last night, after ten hours’ labor with no complications. My heart is filled with so much love for her, a tear of happiness trickles down my cheek.

  My parents have just visited and Gleb will be here soon with Kir. Gleb went home for some well-needed rest after he’d stayed with me for Irina’s birth. He said he would have been there for Kir’s as well, if only I’d told him. But I was a different woman then, just like he was a different man. Both of us have come a long way, I said, and he agreed.

  I unlace my nightdress and put Irina to my nipple. She sucks greedily, and I feel the milk flow down. I was unable to breastfeed Kir, having at first rejected him. That was over two and a half years ago, and I still can’t believe how much my life has changed since.

  The development of our arts and entertainment center is proceeding according to plan, and we’ll be opening in the new year. I’ve decided not to go back to school next fall, after all. I told Gleb he’d given up his old life for me and I wanted to offer him and our kids my undivided attention. He’d made love to me like a beast afterwards, and I’d loved every second of it.

  Gleb has done all he could to keep us safe. He assures me we are no longer in any danger and I believe him. He’s cut all links with the Vory. The fact that his so-called godfather feels somewhat responsible for what happened to Gleb’s dad and is honor-bound to make sure we are protected is not infallible, but nothing in life is certain. I’ve made up my mind not to stress about it.

  I’ve gotten over the shock I felt when I found out Natasha was obsessed with Gleb and might have harmed me, even killed me. She must have been suffering from mental illness, and I know I shouldn’t judge or condemn her having been ill myself. Easier said than done; she might have hurt Kir. Who knows? All I know is, I’m glad I’m not a Vor’s woman. I was sold to a beast, granted, but he set me free.

  Set us both free.

  I stare down at my newborn, nursing contentedly while I cuddle her. The door to my room swings open, and the love of my life enters, clutching a huge bunch of red roses, our s
on’s hand in his.

  “Come meet your sister,” he says to Kir. “She’s our little princess.”

  They approach my bed and Kir’s eyes widen.

  He clambers up next to me to have a better look. “Urgh,” he grimaces, “she’s eating your boobie.”

  “Oops.” I catch my husband’s smirk. “I think you need to have a father and son talk, my love.”

  He laughs, and bends to kiss me before planting a second kiss on our daughter’s cheek. Our gaze meets, and I breathe out a sigh of pure happiness.

  © 2019 by SC Daiko Romance

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. The locations are a mixture of real and imagined. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or any events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover design: RBA Designs

  Content editing: Trenda Lundin

  All enquiries to info@scdaiko.com

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Alyona

  The illustrious Grand Ballroom at the Plaza in New York echoed with the voices of friends and family toasting the bride and groom. I put down my glass and stared at the man sitting opposite. Ben Collins, playboy billionaire hotel developer. In his late thirties, apparently. Catching him staring back at me, I glanced away with feigned indifference.

  We were at the top table, on a kind of podium, and the air was redolent with the waxy aroma of hundreds of candles burning in silver candelabra. To my right, Pasha Ivanchenko, my brother Valentin’s best man, was bragging about the yacht he’d just bought. “Wanna come for a sail tomorrow, babe?” he grabbed my hand and winked.