Empires and Kings (A Mafia Series Book 1)

by A. C. Bextor

  Go figure.

  “Maybe you can talk to Dad for all of us,” Veni hopes, popping the red-and-white candy in his mouth. “You could ask him to keep his hands off you when other people are around.”

  “Second that, Veni,” Rueon agrees.

  The older men, Abram and Gleb, both lift their heads and smile.

  “You told me you like that I keep him busy, Veni. Don’t lie.”

  “At first I did,” he admits shyly. “But you do realize if you two end up together forever that you’re gonna be my stepmom.”

  Forever.

  The notion of spending the rest of my life with Vlad is of course something I’ve contemplated. The two of us have come to a place of contentment together. Other than a few arguments, which he usually wins, our new relationship has been an easy transition. I suppose that comes with living together for so long before.

  Vlad’s father, Vory, hasn’t interfered at all. I thought he would. He’s never liked me—more to say, he’s never liked where I came from. In a way, I consider him thinking of me as a traitor. But I’m not. I’ve been loyal to this family my entire life. Vlad hasn’t mentioned anything to me about what Vory thinks of us together and, to be honest, I’m partial to keeping it that way.

  Still, even all this time later, Faina hasn’t come to agree with my decision to stay with Vlad. The times she’s called from Russia to get an update on the family, she’s been short and to the point. Part of me understands it’s nothing I’ve done personally, but rather how much she hates her life alone without all of us in it.

  “I don’t know. It’s good to see Vlad happy,” Gleb comments. “He’s much easier to deal with on a daily basis.”

  Oh, if they only knew.

  He’s not always easier to deal with. The time Vlad and I do get to spend together is measured on the degree of his mood.

  If he’s busy with work, stressed, or upset about something he can’t control, I know about it. He doesn’t have to use his words, either. Vlad’s disposition can be determined in the way he touches me. The way he comes to look for me in the middle of the day. And definitely the way he handles me at night. I’ve become his outlet for every emotion.

  Sometimes he’s sweet.

  Sometimes he’s aggressive.

  Sometimes he’s gentle.

  Sometimes he’s not.

  None of these I mind at all. I’ve become accustomed to being everything he needs whenever he needs it. He does the same, but with less consideration.

  When I ask for space, he gives it.

  When I ask for his patience, he tries.

  When I ask for a time-out, physical or otherwise, he uses his domineering way to convince me I don’t need it.

  “Leave Vlad alone,” I clip, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden need to defend a man who doesn’t need defending. “You said yourselves he’s happy. I’m happy. And when I’m not—”

  My point is missed as I’m cut off.

  “If there’s ever a time Klara isn’t happy, then I want to know why.” Vlad’s deep voice captures all our attention.

  Twisting my neck, I look up. Vlad is standing in the living room entrance, leaning his shoulder against the jamb.

  His thick and powerful arms are crossed over his chest where the tattoos lie against one another. He’s dressed in his typical camouflage pants and faded black shirt. His heavy boots are resting casually, one over the other. He’s also wearing his usual scowl, of course.

  “Fun’s over,” Veni insists, grabbing a handful of my mints before standing and shoving them in the pocket of his jeans.

  I don’t have to turn to look at him to know he’s doing it; I hear the crunch of all my winnings fading in the distance.

  Boys are ridiculous.

  “Hey, Boss,” Rueon greets.

  “Vlad,” Gleb states next.

  “Your woman is teaching us to play cards,” Abram jokes. “And she’s doing a merciless job of it.”

  Even with all the conversation taking place around me, I haven’t taken my eyes from Vlad, nor has he mine. He’s tense; the ticking of his jaw gives his mood away.

  “I’ll be up in a few minutes,” I explain, hoping to persuade.

  Vlad says nothing, but his eyes narrow. He doesn’t like being told what to do. For the life of me, I’ll never understand how Faina or Maag has ever gotten him to do anything. This is something I’ve mentally noted a few times now. I need to know their secret.

  “Veni,” Vlad directs, mildly pointing to our mess. “It’s late. You should be in bed.”

  “I’m sixteen, remember?” Veni mentions, as if his own father didn’t know. “I don’t need you to tuck me in.”

  Vlad’s jaw ticks again, his temples protruding with each grind.

  “I’ll finish here, Veni,” I soothe.

  “I’ll see you both tomorrow,” Abram states. Bending to kiss my cheek before he goes, Abram whispers with his eyes cast beyond my shoulder, “You’re testing him, Klara. Careful.”

  Careful.

  The warning isn’t needed. There have been a few times now that I’ve tested the limits of my position in Vlad’s life and haven’t totally hated the result.

  I don’t voice this, though. Rather, I reply, “Tell Aline that Aunt Klara says hello.”

  Standing, Abram puts his hands in his pockets and grins. “You’re a she-devil.”

  Suddenly my body is lifted from the floor. In midair, I shriek. I’m roughly maneuvered and tossed over Vlad’s shoulder before a swift smack to my ass echoes between those left in the room.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Rueon whines.

  Laughter breaks out between the others, but not anywhere near Vlad. His pace is quick and footsteps heavy as he takes the stairs two at a time to our room.

  “Neanderthal,” I hiss, finally giving up and letting my body go slack with compliance.

  “Where are you going?” Klara asks, sitting up in bed and scanning the room with her very beautiful but also very sleepy eyes.

  It’s late. The clock near the bed reads 2:31 a.m.

  “I need to go down and talk to Gleb,” I inform, sliding my shirt over my head.

  “Gleb’s here now?”

  “Yes. And I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

  Klara turns in bed, sits up, and rests her feet on the floor. The black lace nightgown offers a clear view of her naked body beneath it.

  Temptress.

  Grabbing my boots from the floor, I remind, “You have plans tomorrow. Don’t forget them.”

  Thinking through fog and sleep, she remembers. “Are you really going to make me learn to shoot a gun, Vlad? I have no reason to ever touch one.”

  With everything that’s happened over the last couple months, Klara having no idea about any of it, the answer is certain.

  “Yes. And I’ll be meeting you and Abram there once I’m finished for the day.”

  “Did something happen?”

  “None of your concern,” I brush off, walking toward her, and then leaning down to brace my hands on either side of her waist.

  “Something happened,” she presses with her usual insistence. “Tell me.”

  Josef Embers is what happened. The call I got from Gleb a few minutes ago stated that matters were pressing. He said he has something I needed to come down only in person to hear.

  If all this means what I think it might, everything I’ve been worrying about for the last few months will soon be over, giving me more time to focus on my family.

  More time with Veni, acting as a supportive father rather than the dictator of his life.

  More time with Faina, bringing her home for a visit and making amends with her as I should’ve before she left.

  And definitely more time with Klara, doing….

  “I hate when you’re evasive,” she pouts. “I know what your life—our life—is about, Vlad. You think I’m so oblivious but I’m not.”

  “We’ve discussed this,” I return. “My business has nothing to do with y
ou.”

  “Vlad—”

  “And if you remember correctly, you agreed not to question me.”

  Over the last couple months, Klara has become more insistent regarding my business. Her curious questions have so far gone unanswered. Being that she’s determined, I know there will come a time when she won’t let a situation pass without input. When that time comes, she’ll learn a lesson.

  Lightly kissing her nose, I smile but say no more.

  As I stand, Klara throws her body back, flopping on the bed with a dramatic sigh. I don’t make a move to touch her, but I don’t have to. When she draws her knees up, resting the heels of her feet on the bed, I get an unobstructed view of every inch of her.

  “Are you trying to tempt me?” I question in a low voice.

  “No. I’m trying to bribe you,” she casually admits. “Last night you were somewhere else.”

  “I wasn’t,” I deny. “I was with you, as I always am.”

  Stretching her long, shapely leg, Klara rests her foot against my stomach. Her red-painted toenails capture my attention first. The heavy breath she exhales calls my gaze to hers.

  Klara’s lowered the top of her gown, and with her chest on display, her fingers run gently over the tips of her pebbled nipples.

  My lower gut turns, excited at the sight alone, let alone how good the release would feel again, even after just having her not eight hours ago.

  “Stay,” she pleads.

  “I won’t, Klara. Gleb is waiting.”

  Dropping the arch of her foot, Klara rests it over the material of my pants, finding my cock rigid.

  “You want to stay,” she insists again.

  “Klara,” I warn.

  “Humph,” she huffs with petulance. Even the sight and sound of that makes me want to stay.

  “Feet to the bed and thighs apart,” I instruct, making the decision to give her what she’s asking.

  This time, without argument, Klara does as I’ve told her. Lifting the hem of her gown farther, she exposes herself to me completely. Her inner thighs are still tainted pink, signaling she was right.

  Yes, I was with her last night, but my frustration in business led me to taking her harder than I like to.

  I’d missed her, and my need to find Josef was too close to the surface. I was on edge. As I’ve come to recently understand, Klara was the connection I needed to bring me back home—back to her.

  Standing between her open legs, I unbuckle my belt. My cock is hard, aching and ready to be inside her. As I aggressively run my fingers up and down my shaft, Klara’s fingers do the same against her clit. We each find our rhythm, but matching it to each other. Her head tilts, aiming to the ceiling where her eyes close, and she releases a weighted moan.

  Before she’s able to regain her focus, I lift her hips from the bed, position myself at her entrance, and then drive into her in one long, rough, and furious thrust.

  Her fingers grasp at the hem of my shirt, lifting enough until she can claw at my skin. With her eyes open, the dim light from outside casting a shadow on her face, Klara looks down to our connection.

  “I’m here now,” I voice, my breathing starting to labor. “Is this where you want me?”

  “Yes,” she replies, grasping me tightly from inside.

  Moving her hand, she positions it between us. Klara’s fingers separate as I drive into her again and again. The added touch pushes me further, closer to release.

  “Say it, Klara,” I encourage. “Tell me you feel me.”

  “I do,” she breathes. “Please wait,” she begs.

  I won’t wait. Her brazen attempt to keep me from taking what’s mine and doing with it as I please only adds to my urgency to finish what she’s started.

  When my finger rolls against her swollen clit, Klara’s cry of surprise and release echoes between us. She comes hard, thrashing on the bed, gripping the covers in her fists.

  I follow, extending a growl of satisfaction as a bead of sweat drips from my chin to my chest.

  Now, even more than before, I hate leaving her alone.

  “We’ve got him,” Gleb states in such a rush I nearly miss it. “He’s already confessed. He’s been in touch with both Ciro and Katrina. His plan was to bring Klara to the Palleshi estate. Ciro agreed to help him keep her away from you.”

  Away from me.

  “Where did you find him?” Abram questions.

  We’re all still standing in the kitchen. This early in the morning, no one is awake or around. Not even Maag.

  Sucking in a breath, Gleb answers with hesitance. “He’s been staying at the motel on Fredrick. His car was loaded.”

  An uneasy sense of a threat I hadn’t thought of pricks my nerves.

  “Loaded with what?”

  “Tape, knives, a bag, and cuffs. He was going to take her against her will if all else failed.”

  “Fuck!” Abram hisses as my blood begins to boil, coursing through my veins, and igniting my raging fury with rapid fire.

  “Is he any relation to her at all?”

  “He says he’s her uncle.”

  “So it’s really him, then. Amere’s brother,” I confirm.

  Nodding, he says again, “From what he’s claimed. He probably won’t really start talking until you convince him to tell us everything.”

  Grabbing the gun from my side, I check the ammunition in a quick and comfortable movement.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Abram hisses. “Jesus Christ, Vlad. Put that away before Maag wakes up. You’ll give the old woman a fucking heart attack.”

  “Let’s go,” I seethe, aiming my order at Gleb. His hesitation is noted and dismissed. “Gleb, I wasn’t asking.”

  “Vlad, you need to calm down and focus,” Abram insists.

  “Jesus Christ,” Gleb returns.

  “Tell me he’s already here,” I seethe, itching to do what I haven’t done in a long time—maim and kill.

  I want to play with my prey before robbing it of its breath.

  “He’s in the shed. Leonid did all you asked.”

  “Then why are we still standing here?”

  “He confessed to working with Ciro to get to Klara, right?” Abram queries, slapping my shoulder. I don’t answer, but he continues. “So calm down. This is good. We have him. If he’s an uncle, he could be completely harmless.”

  Turning to him, my jaw tenses and my shoulders ache from being tight.

  “I know that look.” Abram’s eyes roll. “I hate that look.”

  “Let’s go.”

  As I turn in place to head out, I take one step forward before Klara’s face, no longer looking sated or tired, but worried and afraid, stares into mine.

  “I have an uncle?” she quietly questions, her whisper lost with her breath.

  Abram tenses, rushing to her side.

  “You should be in bed, sweetheart,” he murmurs, grabbing her arms and resting his hand on her lower back.

  Klara’s wearing only my robe. She worries her bottom lip, her face pensive and sharp.

  “I came down when I heard Maximus barking. I thought you’d already left,” she states accusingly. “What were you talking about?”

  “Nothing,” Gleb states with no emotion.

  “I have an uncle?”

  “No,” I clip.

  Looking around the room, Klara searches the eyes of my men for the truth I haven’t given her. I won’t give her anything until I’ve spoken to Josef myself and determined his intent. Judging by the inventory Gleb found him with—fit to a kidnapper’s liking—his intentions with Klara weren’t family-oriented at all.

  “Go back to our room. I’ll come for you when I’m finished,” I direct.

  Klara scans my body up and down. She takes in the way I’m dressed, the gun in my holster, and the knives in my belt.

  “You’re going to hurt him,” she notes.

  “If I make that decision, it’ll be mine to make.”

  “But I heard Gleb say he’s my family. I want
to meet him. I want to talk to him. Why would you hurt him?”

  “Klara, I won’t tell you again. Go do as I’ve told you to do.”

  Shaking her head, she further ignores my order. “You’re not this person, Vlad. You haven’t been for a long time.”

  “Vlad,” a voice from behind Vlad calls. Gleb is standing to the side and away from both Klara and me. “We should go.”

  Rather than discuss which person Klara feels I am or should be, I step around her, then instruct Abram, “Take her to her room. Talk to her. Don’t leave her until she’s settled.”

  “I won’t settle,” she hisses, taking two steps in his direction. “I’m going with you.”

  Just as she’s about to pass Abram, she’s stopped with an arm around her waist. Abram pulls her in close, whispering in her ear, “Don’t. We’ll talk later, but not now.”

  “Abram, let me go,” she snaps.

  As Vlad disappears out the door with a black bag I’ve never seen draped across his shoulder, Abram moves me across the living room and to the stairs.

  I hadn’t noticed I’d been shaking until he insists, “You’ve got to calm down.”

  “I can’t,” I reply, walking with him but not clearly seeing where I’m headed. The walls in my line of sight are dim, tunnel vision taking me under.

  “Do you trust me?” Abram questions, stopping us at the top of the stairs. “Do you trust me to help Vlad do what’s right?”

  “Yes,” I answer. And I do. If anyone in Vlad’s life has never wavered from his side, it’s Abram.

  “Then promise me you’ll stay here. Promise you’ll wait for me to come back.”

  With a heavy sigh, I agree, but on one condition. “If I still have family, please don’t let Vlad….” I can’t finish.

  Although I’ve been with this family for nearly two decades, the thought of the man I’ve come to care so much about ending a life, and one so connected to mine, makes me physically sick.

  After bending to kiss the top of my head, Abram steps back and searches my face.

  “It’s good to hear you trust me, Klara. But you also need to trust Vlad.”