Where the Snow Falls - London Miller(ang.)

To Sweeney Todd.

WHERE THE SNOW FALLS DEDICATION CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN ABOUT THE AUTHORS Copyright

“Sign your name.” Kaz Markovic grabbed the pen and scrawled his signature across the bottom of the page before his belongings—what little he had on his person before he was brought in—were slid across the counter in a plastic tub. He barely spared the correctional officer signing him out a glance as he fastened his watch around his wrist, stuffing his wallet and phone into his pocket before heading for the entrance. Four months. Four long months behind bars. Had he been

able to pay off the right people, the charge would have only meant a slap on the wrist for him, but a single call had taken away those options. Good behavior had reduced his six-month sentence to four, but it was still four months too long. Whether Kaz liked it or not, Vasily was still the boss, and his word was law. So if Vasily closed those channels, making sure that no one could do a damn thing about getting him out, he had no choice but to wait it out. By the time he was walking through those frosted double doors, the pressure that had settled in his chest from the moment he had put on that blue uniform had eased. Compared to prison, the county jail was easy—though he never planned to go back to either—but there was nothing like being free and not having someone on his ass every single moment of every single day. When to eat. When to sleep. Around-the-clock monitoring made him feel like he was living beneath a microscope. And it never helped that the guards were always

antagonizing, ready to make an example out of him should he break even the smallest of rules. But Kaz knew the score, and he knew better than to let them get under his skin, especially since he didn’t want his sentence extended. Sitting on the hood of a white Bentley outside waiting for him was his oldest sister, Vera—the last person he expected to see. Though she had been raised under the hand of a Russian mob boss, his sister wasn’t impressed by their life. She didn’t believe in it. Since the minute she turned eighteen and was no longer forced to live under the same roof as Vasily, she had packed her bags, staying as far away from their Bratva roots as she could— and further away from Vasily. While all of his children—besides the twins —had problems with Vasily for their own reasons, no one hated him quite as much as Vera did. Once, Kaz had thought to ask her why. It was no secret that they had a strained relationship, but Vera’s distaste for their father had only become so openly hostile a couple of years ago. If Vasily called on her, she didn’t care who was around to

witness it. She made it quite clear she wanted nothing to do with him. But Vera didn’t explain her actions, and he had never pushed. Plus, he understood. Vasily could test the patience of a saint, but despite his lectures on the importance of family, he didn’t follow his own preaching. Like the fact he had set Kaz up. He’d had an idea, especially after seeing Vera yelling at their father that day, but his suspicions had been confirmed when Vasily had made it a point to visit him in jail. He’d only come that one time, but everything he had said, and even the smug look on his face, told Kaz what he needed to know. But if he thought Kaz was going to accept what he had done without question, Vasily was mistaken. “You need a shave,” Vera said as she hopped off the car, a smile already forming as she came to him with open arms. Briefly running a hand through the coarse hair covering his jaw, Kaz accepted her embrace, squeezing her once for good measure. She had been there that day—the day he’d decided to say

fuck Vasily’s rules and do what he wanted. While his sister might not have understood why he had been willing to risk everything for a girl he hadn’t known for very long, she had stood at his side regardless. “How are you?” he asked, touching the top of her head—something he had done since he had hit a growth spurt and grown several inches taller than she was. She shrugged, not giving an answer. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” she asked, circling the car to climb into the driver’s seat. “You were the one locked up, after all.” He waved his hand dismissively. Even if his time hadn’t been as easy as it was, he still wouldn’t have burdened her with the details of it. “I’m fine.” Vera didn’t look convinced, but she had always been rather good at reading what he wasn’t trying to show. “We both knew Vasily would punish you, but this … He went too far.” Vasily was notorious for his acts against those who displeased him. He rather enjoyed the

theatrical way he exacted his retaliation for whatever slight he deemed worthy enough. Usually, Kaz didn’t care much for whatever shit his father wanted to involve himself in, but now that he was on the receiving end of it, he was pissed. Pissed and suspicious. Kaz had never expected that his relationship with Violet, the only daughter of the Gallucci family, would cause Vasily to betray him the way he had. Usually, Vasily was doing everything he could to keep Kaz around, forcing a relationship even as Kaz pushed him away. But this … Vasily was making sure his message was clear when it came to Kaz and Violet. They didn’t belong together. If it were anybody else, he might have thought his father was doing it because the woman wasn’t the status he preferred, or maybe she was even promised to someone else, but something about his vehemence for her made Kaz suspicious of it all. He had so many unanswered questions that while he wouldn’t have stayed away from Violet even if they put a fucking gun to his head, now he

wouldn’t because his father was trying to keep them apart for a reason. And he was ready to know why. “I underestimated him,” Kaz found himself saying but not elaborating on it. “It won’t happen again.” He doubted next time he would be as lucky. Vera had always been a careful driver, even with growing up in one of the worst fucking cities to drive in, but today, she seemed to be obeying the street laws a little too much, as though she were trying to avoid any and all attention. He didn’t have to question why—not when she made it quite clear with her next words. “I talked to Rus …” That could mean a number of things, but only one was of concern to Kaz and that was whether Rus had revealed his plans. While Vasily had thought his stint in jail would magically cure him of whatever spell Violet had him under, it had only managed to make him want her more. When the other inmates kept him up all night with the sounds of their fighting, yelling,

and late night musings, just hearing her voice was enough to keep him going—to keep him sane. Even as he knew he would need to figure his shit out with Vasily—and he didn’t trust that the man hadn’t been making plans while he was away —he needed to get away to clear his head and think about how he wanted to proceed. And to do that, he was leaving the state. The idea had come to him a little more than two months ago. When Rus had come to visit him one early Friday afternoon, he had run the idea by his older brother, hoping that he thought the idea was a good one, and more, if he would be able to arrange any of it. Kaz didn’t doubt that his father was looking through his shit and trying to find any evidence of what he was doing, so he had asked for Rus to handle it—because the two avoided each other as much as possible. And because Rus ran a successful nightclub where people from all different walks of life came strolling through, he brushed shoulders with people who could get anything done with a single phone call.

That was all Kaz had needed. “Yeah?” Kaz finally responded to Vera, glancing in her direction. She worried her lips between her teeth, tapping her thumbs against the steering wheel, one other thing they had in common. “I don’t know what the two of you have planned, but I don’t want you to do anything stupid—or at least not more than what you already do.” Though Kaz wasn’t always prone to outlandish things, he also had a habit of pushing as hard as he could to see how much it would take to break someone. But this decision wasn’t one he had made lightly. “I’m just taking some time away, letting the waters settle before I’m forced to meet with Vasily. He’ll give me that. And even if he doesn’t, he won’t step foot where I’m going.” It wasn’t fear, Kaz knew—Vasily didn’t fear any man—but his father made a point to avoid certain people. In his quest to get to the top, he had made plenty of enemies along the way—a hazard of the job, some would say, but most had been

because of his own doing. And when he had decided to cross the Boykov family in Chicago, he had made enemies for life. But they still had a decent relationship with Kaz, despite their hatred for his father. Enemy of my enemy and all … They had been all too happy to extend an invitation for Kaz to come to their city. He had been more than happy to accept, letting the eldest son know an approximate date he would be in town. As long as Rus had done his part, everything would work out fine … As long as he was out of the state before Vasily caught up with him. “You have to be careful, Kaz,” Vera said as they finally crossed the bridge to Coney Island. “It’s not just our father who has it out for you now.” She didn’t have to remind him that now the Italians—or rather the Gallucci family—wouldn’t be as understanding if he showed his face in Brooklyn. They would make him bleed. But where was the fun if he didn’t cause a

little mayhem before he left? Instead of the club, Kaz had given Ruslan an address to one of the few places that Vasily didn’t know about. Though it was usually known which businesses Kaz had his hand in, he had kept this one to himself. As Vera turned the wheel, easing into the parking lot and circling the building, Kaz dug his phone out of his pocket. Turning the device over in his hands, he checked for a missed call or text. Nothing. He was almost tempted to send one of his own but decided against it. Violet still had a choice, and he didn’t want to take that away from her. So he would wait, even if it killed him. They had a plan, one that had been in the works for weeks now, and he just needed to see it through. Shifting the car into park, Vera sat back with a sigh, staring out the windshield at the view of the harbor. “Are you sure this is what you want to do, Kaz? Is she really worth all this?” Kaz didn’t offer a response, not initially. He

knew that Vera didn’t actively dislike Violet, but she was skeptical, especially considering Violet’s family. Despite only being a year older, she worried about him just as much as his mother did, even when he didn’t need her to. Glancing over at his sister, Kaz reached over to turn down the radio. “We wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t.” Vera looked at him then, really looked at him, as though she would find an answer to her question in his expression. After a moment, she nodded and looked away. “You know how to reach me if you need to,” she said softly. Kaz leaned over to press a quick kiss to her cheek before he climbed out of the car and strolled to where Ruslan’s car was idling. His brother was still inside, his shadowy form just visible through the tinted windows, but as Kaz drew closer, the door swung open. “Alive and in one piece … With as much noise as you’ve been making these last few weeks, I’m surprised you’re still walking around

unscathed.” “Not completely.” Kaz didn’t bother showing him the new scar on his side because, by now, his brother should have heard about the incident. “You know, there are easier ways to go out,” he said once he was standing at Kaz’s side, a thick manila envelope in hand. “If you want, I can shoot you now. Right between the eyes and it’ll be over in a second.” “Rus—” “Because when Vasily finds out what you’re doing—and that fucking bastard always finds out— nobody will be able to save you from him.” Kaz shook his head. “He won’t come where I’m going.” “No? But what about when you come back? You won’t be able to hide there forever.” “Who said anything about hiding?” Kaz asked. “When Vasily comes to you, I want you to tell him exactly where I went. I want him to know.” Ruslan looked at Kaz like he’d lost his mind. “You want him to know what?”

“That he started a war, and I plan to finish it.”

“Violet.” “Daddy.” Violet Gallucci smiled falsely right along with the greeting she offered her father. She much preferred to address him by his given name— Alberto—now, but that wasn’t what would make him happy. More than anything, she had to keep Alberto Gallucci happy. At least for a little while longer … Alberto stood, pulling out the chair adjacent to his at the restaurant table for his daughter to sit in. Violet took the seat and pulled it up to the table as a server came with plates of stuffed chicken and pesto in hand, already sliding one in front of her before Alberto had even sat back down. She wasn’t sure which annoyed her more. That her father had called her to the restaurant

to eat knowing she preferred to keep a distance from him lately, or that he hadn’t even allowed her to choose her own meal for the dinner. Both were annoying, to be sure, and they each held a certain air of manipulation. One controlled her time and with whom she spent it, and the other decided what she could and could not partake in, even if it was just … food. It was never just food with her father. Not now. A certain Russian had yanked off Violet’s rose-tinted glasses, and she just couldn't let herself forget, no matter how much her father demanded she do so. Kaz. She no longer saw her father the same way she did as a child. Back then, Alberto had been almost a god of sorts to a younger her; she thought him invincible when he was put up against the world. But the truth was a great deal dirtier than she had wanted to admit. Her father wasn’t the hero she’d always made him out to be—he was just as much the bad guy as

anyone else. Violet had simply come to a point where she decided Alberto Gallucci wasn’t going to choose which bad man she would hand over her loyalty and love to in her life. And it wasn't as if she had gone into this blind, after all. Not where Kazimir Markovic was concerned. “You could smile a little more, dolcezza,” Alberto said, flipping out a napkin to cover his lap. “Could I?” Alberto lifted his gaze, his head tipping to the side slightly as he watched her. Months earlier, years ago even, Violet might have shrunk under that gaze, terrified of disappointing the man who proclaimed to love her entirely just because she was a piece of him and nothing more. She would have been heartbroken to see his anger directed at her—as he assured he loved her unconditionally. But his love did come with conditions. Her behavior. Her appearance. Her image.

His legacy. That was all it ever was, but he had always made sure to wrap it in such pretty paper that she never looked far enough beyond the surface to see what really lay beneath it all. Violet learned that far too late. Unfortunately for her father, Alberto forgot that Violet was cut from the same cloth. She came from him, after all. She was his daughter. So maybe, he should have seen her pleasantries and fake smiles for what they really were—her own brand of manipulation. A good child—his child—lived to please him, and nothing more. It was something he wanted so badly that he was willing to overlook the blank stares and dull answers only because he still wanted to see and hear it, if not a little lackluster in delivery. Violet wasn’t living for her father now. She was just waiting on somebody else. At that thought, she passed a look toward the large, decorative brass clock that dominated an entire far wall of the restaurant. Plated on glass, it

showcased the time. She did the math in her head, having already tallied the time it would take for Kaz to drive from his destination to his next stop. Today was important. He was out. She wasn’t going to have to keep pretending she gave a fuck for much longer. “Waiting for something?” Alberto asked. Violet’s gaze snapped back to her father instantly. “Pardon?” He cut into his chicken, never looking up from his task. “Your food is going cold, Violet, and instead of eating with me like I invited you here to do, you’re too busy watching the clock. Are you waiting for something?” “Yes.” Alberto did lift his head that time. “Oh? Do tell.” A lie was already on the tip of her tongue. “New fad diet. You shouldn’t take your first bite of your heaviest meal before four-thirty in the evening. Something about the carbs and all from your last meal weighing down digestion.”

Violet nodded at the clock. “Three minutes to start, Daddy.” “Little strange, isn’t it?” She didn’t answer him. She didn’t have to. “What are your plans after this?” Alberto asked. Violet shrugged as she picked up her fork and cut a piece of chicken. It was two minutes early, according to the clock, but her father didn't seem to notice the slip. “Going home, and I’m sure Tony will be close behind to let you know I get there safely.” Alberto didn’t even deny her statement about the new enforcer who drove her to and from wherever she needed to go, never mind tailing her while she was out and about doing things. It wasn’t as if her father had given her a choice in the matter, and Violet wasn’t exactly in a place to argue. However, Tony did make some things difficult. Like today. Violet’s hand ached with the urge to fish her phone out of her pocket and scroll to the contact

list. All it would take was one single message— that was it. I’m here. I’m ready. Come get me. Anything of that sort would work just fine. But she couldn't because she was never alone. Even when she thought she was, she wasn’t. She had learned that one night when she woke up from a dead sleep. After having spent the majority of the evening hours on the phone with Kaz, she’d decided to take a walk outside of her building and had found Tony waiting right beyond her front door. She didn’t ask how Kaz had gotten access to a cell phone while locked up, and he didn’t offer the information. She simply had accepted the package left at the front desk for her one day, securely wrapped in packaging that didn’t allow for tampering without it being very obvious. The package hadn’t been touched. For once, her enforcer didn’t seem to care. Maybe he had thought she had just ordered something online. It wasn’t—it had been a simple, pretty cardstock wishing her good tidings on the

outside. But inside? Inside was a phone number, a date when to expect a call, and a familiar K signed right below it. She only recognized Kaz’s signature, or rather, how he signed the initial of his first name because he always seemed to have something on the go or lying out where she could see it when she had gone to his place. That number had been her lifeline for those first thirty days after her father had ripped her from Kaz’s side, and she watched from the media’s perspective as her lover was put behind bars on a bullshit charge. And then he called. And he called again. Every night, if he could. And sometimes, a text in the day, if possible. Violet had a quarter of her chicken gone before she realized it. She wasn’t hungry but chewing and swallowing was comforting in a way, even if the fact she was staring at the clock again lessened her desire to eat. Kaz was out.

All she had to do was call him, and she could leave. With him. Violet passed a look over her shoulder and saw her enforcer sitting two tables over, sipping on a cup of coffee. Her father was still eating away, oblivious to her inner war. All she had to do was send that message. But it wasn’t that easy.

Violet stepped into the waiting elevator and tried not to give her irritation away when Tony slid in beside her without a word. She pressed the number for her floor and leaned against the golden rail as the doors closed and the elevator began to lift. She couldn’t even walk herself through her own building and up to her apartment without Alberto’s appointed babysitter following right behind. And lately—at least for the past few days—it seemed like Tony was sticking even closer than

usual. Most times, he would wait outside places when she went in to do her business. But no, he started coming in right behind her for no apparent reason and with no explanation when she asked why. Boss’ orders. That was all she was given. Violet had a sneaking suspicion she knew exactly why her father had ordered Tony to stick closer. Kaz’s release was no secret. Alberto was crossing his t’s and dotting his i’s where Violet was concerned. And it was working. With Tony’s suffocating presence, she wasn’t comfortable with even glancing at her phone if it buzzed for fear he would be looking over her shoulder. Sure, Tony stayed outside her place when she was home, but it wasn't that simple for Violet. Four months. She’d waited four months to talk to Kaz when he was on the outside and not confined to a fucking cell. When he was locked up, their conversation stayed on mostly safe topics and rarely ventured

beyond what would happen when he was back in the city. Occasionally, that slipped into their conversation too, but just enough to let her know he was waiting on her. Whatever she wanted to do. Violet had the distinct feeling that if she made that call, or sent out a message, it wasn’t going to be enough. She wouldn’t be able to just talk to Kaz and leave it at that until they could figure something else out. She had no doubt in her mind that she was going to want to see him. So until she could do that, she forced herself to leave the fucking phone number untouched. The elevator had shifted a second before the doors opened with a loud ding. Violet shot a look in Tony’s direction, wondering if he was going to walk her down the short hallway to her door as he had done the past few evenings. Sure enough, he waved a hand as if to let her go first. Sighing, Violet pushed off the wall and strolled out of the elevator. It wasn’t Tony’s fault, and her annoyance wasn’t his burden to bear. He was just following orders, and for the most part, he

made his constant presence in her life bearable. Violet was pretty sure Tony had better things to do than babysit her. But the man never let on, and she didn't ask. Halfway down the hall leading to her door— the only apartment on the highest floor—Violet said, “I’m home, Tony, so no need to tuck me in, too.” Tony chuckled, stopping at a decorative side table with a bouquet of fresh flowers resting on the top. A leather chair sat beside the table. As far as Violet knew, most floors in the building had those personal touches in the hall to make the building feel less … apartment-like. “I’m sure you can handle that on your own, principessa,” Tony replied easily. Violet brushed off the ‘princess’ remark and kept walking even as Tony took a seat. “Is that where you’re staying tonight?” “Until Con gets here and relieves me for the night, yep. Whenever the hell that is. Could be near morning, and by then, I gotta be back here anyway.”

Boy, that sounded fun. “When do you sleep, anyway?” Tony flashed her a cool smile. “When I’m dead, apparently.” Violet thought her father was going a little overboard with the bodyguards, but who was she to say. She was the one who had broken the rules, after all. Alberto didn’t trust her with an inch. And frankly, rightfully so. The first chance she got, Violet was gone. Digging through her purse, she found the apartment keys at the very bottom and pulled them out to unlock the door. Giving one last glance over her shoulder at Tony, who had his phone out and was now playing some annoying sounding game, Violet disappeared into her apartment and shut the door behind her. She turned the deadbolt back in place and kicked off her shoes before even turning around to face her empty place. Except the second she closed the door, it was as if the air had shifted. Something felt different. Not wrong, or even off, just … different. Maybe it was the fact her hallway light was

on, and it was the last thing she had turned off before she left her place. Always, no exceptions. Or maybe it was the slight scuff of black on the light-colored hardwood floor of her entryway as if someone had spun on their heel a little fast and left a mark behind. That hadn’t been there either, and no one had been in her place with black-soled shoes for weeks. But beyond those little details, something else caught Violet’s attention. A lingering scent in her hallway she would recognize anywhere. Smoke, leather, heat, and spice. Kaz. Violet dropped her bag to the floor with a thump, and she didn’t think twice about running to her bedroom, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. She didn’t want to hope and be wrong, but the anticipation that coiled through her had a smile on her face before she even reached the room. There was a second, a moment’s hesitation, as she palmed the door handle and gave it a sharp twist, shoving it open as she walked in. Nothing

was different, not at first glance. Her bed was left undisturbed, floor clean, but standing off to the side, leaning a shoulder against the wall as he stared out the windows at the city below was the one person she wanted the most. He turned, shifting just far enough that she could see his face—familiar gray eyes and the slightest of smiles that grew as he turned to face her fully. One second, she was still standing in the doorway, staring at him, and the next, she was across the room. She wrapped her arms around him just to prove he was real, that he was actually there. She wanted to feel the warmth of his skin, his heartbeat against her cheek. But that wasn’t enough, not nearly, at least until his arms closed around her, and just like that … her world got a little smaller, she could breathe, and things felt right again. Violet hugged Kaz tighter, not caring how he had gotten past the front desk without being seen, never mind how he managed to break into her place. She barely even considered the enforcer

outside her door as she leaned up on her tiptoes to stare a grinning Kaz right in the eyes. “Krasivaya,” he murmured. Violet wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to say first, but Kaz helped her out by pressing a hard, searing kiss to her smiling lips. It was like hearing an old, favorite tune the way he pulled her closer, and she fisted the back of his jacket to keep him right where he was. The soft swipes of his lips moving over hers turned demanding in a blink, his tongue striking out at the seam of her mouth. Violet didn’t even care that her fingers ached from holding onto him so tightly, or that her lungs burned with the need for breath as he kissed her deeper, his tongue warring with hers for a brief moment before his teeth nipped at her bottom lip. So familiar. So good. She didn’t give a fuck what her father thought. Things that fit together as perfectly as she and Kaz did weren’t wrong. All too soon, Kaz was pulling away. She pouted, and he chuckled at her crestfallen

expression before pressing another quick kiss to her lips. Violet shivered when one of his hands came up to cup her chin in his palm. She felt his thumb slide across her lower lip and then over her cheek. “I guess that answers that, no?” Violet let out a shaky breath. “Answers what?” “Things,” he said vaguely. She didn't have the first clue of what he was going on about, but at that moment, she was too caught up with the fact he was there with her to care about the rest. There. … with her. In her place. Violet’s eyes widened, and she instinctively tried to take a step back from Kaz. He held her in place, refusing to let her move farther away from him. “What?” he asked. “You’re here.” Kaz smiled, lax and easy. “We’ve established

that, yes?” God, why did he have to sound so damn good when she needed to think? “No,” Violet said, her fingers unfurling from the back of his jacket. “Here, in my place.” “Locks aren’t really an issue for me, Violet.” “Good to know.” “And you haven’t called,” he added quieter. Violet swallowed back the nervousness beginning to form. “I couldn’t.” Kaz waved a hand high. “There’s no one here right now.” “So?” “Would you have called me tonight?” Violet found his gray gaze and held it, answering honestly. “No.” “I was beginning to think you didn’t want to call me. And then you come in here, and kiss me like that, so maybe it’s not a matter of not wanting to, hmm?” “I couldn’t call. Someone is always around.” “But not right now,” he reminded her. “There’s someone outside. Tony—one of my

father’s men.” Kaz’s lip curled up at the corner. “Muscle, which doesn’t mean a whole lot.” “It means that I can’t get out of here without him being right behind me. It means you couldn’t come here if I did call.” “I don’t—” “And that’s what I would have wanted,” Violet interrupted, hoping he understood. “I wanted to go—or you to be here, and I couldn’t have that, so I was waiting.” Kaz sighed. “I missed you. I was tired of waiting.” Violet didn't bother to contain her pleased smile. “Missed me, huh?” He stroked her lips and cheek again with the pad of his thumb. “More than you know, sweetheart.” “And what now?” She couldn’t even hide the sudden dryness in her voice. It had been far too long since she had been close to Kaz, never mind having him touch her. It made her feel a little fuzzy in the head.

Stupid, even. She didn’t care—she wanted more. “Right now, whatever you want,” Kaz told her softly. Violet’s answer was instant and immediate. “You. I want you.” Kaz flashed her another one of his sexy smiles. “I’ve been working on that.” “Is that so?” “Yeah. You know we’re going to have to leave for a while, yes?” Violet nodded, not bothered in the slightest. She had figured that out long ago. No way would she be able to have Kaz and stay in New York, too. Her father just wasn’t going to allow that, and she wasn't willing to let Kaz go. Alberto had promised to kill Kaz if he came near Violet again after that final encounter four months earlier. She refused to risk Kaz like that again, but she wasn’t going to walk away from him, either. That left her with one option. To leave. Violet wasn't even sure if anything left in New

York was worth staying for now. “Where have you been the last few days?” Violet asked. “Around,” he replied. “I don’t remember you being this vague before jail, Kaz.” Kaz laughed. “I’ve been tying up loose ends and keeping an eye on things that matter.” Violet wondered … “Things like me?” “Things like you, krasivaya.” Fisting the front of his jacket, she tipped her head up and caught the underside of his jaw with a kiss, feeling his smile form as she did so. The coarse facial hair covering his cheeks and jaw tickled her skin. “You need to shave,” she said. “You sound like my sister. Don’t do that.” “But you do need—” “Don’t,” he said firmer, cocking a brow. Violet let him go with a laugh, and Kaz finally released her from his hold. Despite how much she just wanted to bring him closer again, she took the bit of space to breathe and think clearly once more.

She wanted to ask him a million and one things. Stuff about his family and what had been going on since he was put away. His time in lockup and all the nonsense that went with it. But mostly, she just wanted to know how in the hell they were going to get themselves out of their current situation. “You’re here now,” Violet said, fingering the hem of her shirt. “Yeah.” “And I’m not going to want you to leave.” Kaz shrugged. “Maybe you’ll have to come with me then.” “Tony—enforcer, remember? He’s outside. I already told you this, Kaz.” He barely reacted to her statement, like it didn’t faze him in the slightest. “I didn’t think for a second that your father would be letting you run around unmanned, Violet.” How was that going to help them? “I’ve got a flight to catch,” Kaz added after a moment. “Are you going to be joining me or not?”

Again, she didn't hesitate. “Where the hell else am I going to go?” She didn’t even ask how or what his plan was. Violet just didn’t care. He was all she wanted now—didn’t he know that? “That’s all I need to know,” Kaz said. He nodded at the walk-in closet across the room. “Think you can pack a bag in ten minutes?” “Probably less.” “You might want to take some shit, Violet. Whatever means something to you. I don’t know how long we’re going to be gone, or if you’ll have something to come back to.” She still couldn’t find it in herself to give a damn. Not with him there. “None of it matters anyway,” she said. Kaz’s smile deepened. “All right. Five minutes, yes?” “Five minutes.” Kaz didn’t follow Violet when she made a beeline for the closet. She wasn’t even sure what

he was doing as she grabbed a tote bag that was large enough to fit a few outfits and very little else. As long as she had a change of clothes, she could take care of the rest as needed. She knew that without even asking. Violet was well aware that Kaz wasn't the type to just jump the gun. He figured shit out and planned accordingly. If he said it was time to go, then it was, and he would take care of the rest. Simple as that. Before long, Violet was strolling out of her closet with the bag tossed over her shoulder. She found Kaz waiting in the bedroom doorway, holding out one of her warmer, thicker winter coats. Much warmer than the one she was currently using. While spring was a couple of months or so away, it was still chilly. “It’s colder in Chicago,” he said when she took the coat from him. “Windier. You’ll need it when we land.” “Okay.” Kaz chuckled and used the tip of his thumb to rub at a spot above his eye. “That’s it? No

questions or demands?” “I told you what I wanted.” “Yeah, I guess you did.” “Tony is still out in the hallway, Kaz.” He didn't even blink when he said, “I know. Don’t look.” Violet wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, but when he held out his hand, she took it without hesitating. “Got everything you want?” he asked. She passed a look at the framed photographs on her corner desk. She rarely used it for anything, preferring to be lying in bed when she was on her laptop. Over the years, she’d just filled the desk with pictures of her family and a few of her friends. “I’m good,” she said. Kaz drew her into his side and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s go then.” He tucked her hand around his arm as he directed them back through the apartment and toward the front door. She slipped on a pair of sneakers, foregoing the heels she had kicked off

earlier. Kaz’s hand landed on the doorknob, and once more, he said, “Just don’t look.” Violet wasn’t sure what she thought she would see when he pulled the apartment door open. Maybe that Tony had skipped off, thinking she’d settled in for the night, and that was it. Or maybe that was what she was hoping for. She was wrong. Tony was right where she had left him, still looking down at that phone of his and lost in whatever game he was playing. Violet’s fingers dug roughly into Kaz’s arm at the sight of the enforcer, as if she was subconsciously trying to pull him back into the apartment and hide him. Kaz didn’t even react; he just kept moving forward, bringing her along with him. Clearing his throat loudly, Kaz effectively made enough noise to draw Tony’s attention away from his phone. The second Tony looked up, Kaz was reaching for whatever was at his back at the same time. Violet heard Kaz’s words from before still

ringing loudly. Don’t look. How easy that should have been. Tony stood, reaching for the gun she knew he kept holstered at his side under his jacket. Kaz already had his gun aimed, and the hammer cocked back under his thumb. Don’t look. The noise was deafening when Kaz pulled the trigger. Louder than Violet realized it would be. She had never—despite growing up around men who always carried handguns—heard one fired before. Certainly not at close range. She should have turned away. Instead, she watched the bullet tear through Tony’s face.

Kaz merely blinked as the man dropped back into his seat, his phone on the ground, whatever

game he’d been playing still going. Whoever he was, he no longer mattered now that he was dead. At the moment, his only concern was Violet. He doubted she had ever seen someone die— not this way, at least—and as he glanced back at her, her expression confirmed his thoughts. There was horror, maybe even a little disgust, but she hadn’t screamed nor did she throw up—as someone he knew had once done after seeing a body. Truthfully, she was handling it far better than he thought she would. When he placed a hand on the small of her back, urging her forward and toward the elevator, he could feel the slight tremor working through her, but even still, she said nothing. Not when they boarded the elevator, the doors closing off the sight of the enforcer bleeding out in his chair, or even as they made their way through the lobby of her apartment building. He used to be so careful when he came here— always making sure to take the back entrance to avoid any cameras and steer clear of the front desk

staff he knew were in Alberto’s pocket. But as he walked with her, briefly meeting the gaze of one of the receptionists standing behind the counter, he didn’t give a fuck. Outside, Rus’ car awaited them—his Porsche already shipped to Chicago ahead of them. Grabbing her bag, Kaz circled the car, opening the passenger door for her before dropping her bag in the backseat. Once he was inside, he checked his watch, gauging how much time he had before they needed to be at the airstrip. Minutes to spare. Pulling out, Kaz navigated them through the traffic, leaving Violet to her thoughts for the time being. He didn’t doubt that she was still trying to process what she had seen. She probably wasn’t particularly comfortable with what he had done, but he didn’t want there to be any confusion as to who he was. Would he ever harm her? No. He would go to the ends of the earth to keep her safe. But others? If they thought to cross him or attempt to keep him away from her, they wouldn’t be as lucky.

By the time they reached the airstrip at ten minutes to eleven, the jet was already waiting, the lights of the interior dimly illuminating the strip. There was a car nearby, its owner sitting on the hood of it, but as their car rolled to a stop, he dropped to his feet. Alfie was one of the few men Kaz knew he could trust, so when he reached out for his assistance in setting this up, Alfie hadn’t hesitated. While he knew very little of Alfie’s business practices, he knew the man could get his hands on just about anything. Like the jet waiting for them. “I wanted to see for myself,” Alfie said once he got close after they exited the car. “See what?” Kaz asked as he grabbed Violet’s bag from the backseat, along with his own. “If she would be at your side. Words are easy. Actions … that’s when you see what a person is worth.” Alfie wasn’t one to bite his tongue, even when the person he was speaking about was standing right in front of him. But Violet wasn’t a shy little

thing and boldly stared at him, unblinking. “Yeah?” she asked. “Then what am I worth?” Alfie smiled. “Guess we’ll find out. Safe travels. And Kaz? Watch your back. You’ve been out for less than a few days, and you’re already making noise.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” Kaz said in return. “You done?” Alfie didn’t take offense. Kaz wondered if anyone could make him lose his cool. Taking hold of Violet’s hand, Kaz led the way to the jet, letting her go up first before he boarded behind her. A flight attendant was already waiting for them to offer refreshments, but Kaz dismissed her as he left Violet in the cabin and went to speak with the pilot. One quick conversation later, Kaz was back, taking the seat opposite Violet. He was reaching to buckle his seat belt when Violet’s voice cut through the silence. “What’s in Chicago?” He wished she would look at him instead of out the window so he could see what she was

thinking. “Friends.” She nodded, but he could tell that she wasn’t satisfied with that answer. But he wouldn’t elaborate, not yet. It would only be a few hours until she met them anyway, and she could form her own opinion. Violet fell silent again, her thoughts somewhere else. Kaz wasn’t usually one to explain his actions and the decisions he made—his position afforded him that luxury—but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that with her. He wanted her to understand. It wasn’t until the jet was in the air did he snap off his belt and cross the short distance to her, taking the seat beside her. She didn’t hesitate to shift, turning so she was facing him better. “You have a question? Ask.” “You … Did you really have to kill him?” Kaz sat back, thinking about his answer before he spoke. “A message had to be sent. Sure, I could have knocked him out, and we could have left then too, but you know your father and the men who work for him. He’ll still send someone for you,

undoubtedly, but now, he’ll think twice.” Unable to help himself, he reached out to finger strands of her hair. Even as he did so, his attention on his task, he still said, “Men like me … We need a declaration. It’s no longer just about bending rules or breaking them even. Vasily asked me back before he set me up whether I would stay away from you. Tony was my answer. I won’t let anyone stand between us, Violet. No one.” Violet shook her head, meeting his gaze. “You can’t kill all of them, Kaz.” “I’ll do what I have to.” “Kaz—” “I love you, Violet. Don’t ever forget that. I’m sorry you had to see what happened with Tony, and I’ll probably be apologizing for many things in the near future, but when you took my hand tonight, you made your choice. And when I took his life, I made mine.” She was quiet for so long that he was afraid of what she would say next … “Is there a bed on this thing?” Kaz glanced back at the door he already knew

was there. “Yeah. What of it?” “Let’s go to bed, Kaz—at least for a few hours.” As she led the way, he knew he would follow her anywhere.

Kaz’s body, as his kiss had been, was still so familiar to Violet. Despite the short time they had spent together before their small, private world was ripped to hell, it didn’t make Kaz feel in any way unknown to her. Not to her hands, her kiss, or her eyes. All of his sharp lines and hard ridges had imprinted their way onto her memories and refused to let go. She had often dreamed of him when he was gone, waking up from dreams just before she had gotten what she needed from it. She always woke up cold.

God. So fucking cold. But right then, as Kaz pulled the clothes from her body without so much as a word while lust burned brightly in his gaze, she burned red hot. All of the times they had fucked before flooded her memories, and one thing stood out above the others. Kaz had never shed his own clothes before he had taken his fill of her with either his fingers, his mouth, or both and couldn’t hold himself back any longer from taking the rest of her. This time, he’d started yanking his clothes off the second he had the cabin door shut to the private bedroom at the back of the plane until he was naked and reaching for her, demanding the same in that silent, harsh way of his. She still loved it. Loved how he pulled on her shirt a little too roughly, making the fabric bite against her skin as he yanked it over her head. Loved that he tugged her jeans down to her ankles and shoved her to the edge of the bed to sit so he could pull them the rest

of the way off. Kaz stood back from her, straightening to his full height as he watched her silently. Clenched fists. Tight jaw. Steel gray eyes on only her. It unsettled her. How he watched her like he did, a mixture of adoration and want churning behind his gaze; it put her on edge. And she didn’t even know why. Any flaws she had, he’d already seen. Any imperfections to be found already were. He knew exactly what he was looking at, yet it was like he was drinking her in all over again. For the first time, even. Except it wasn’t. Violet took the moment he gave her to reach out and run the tips of her fingers down the railroad path of his abdominal muscles, letting her hand slow to a stop just above the spot where she really wanted to feel. He was hard under the only piece of clothing he still wore—his boxer-briefs.

Hard, hot, and aching, she knew. Like she was. She traveled the expanse of his body with her gaze, over his intricate tattoos and down to where her fingers hooked around the waistline of his boxer-briefs. Something caught her eye on his side —something new. Slightly raised and pink, the scar couldn’t have been very old. Violet reached out to touch the mark, only to have her fingers caught by Kaz. She cut her gaze to his instantly, questioning without ever saying a word. “Caught the wrong end of a shank,” Kaz explained quietly. Her heart stopped as her chest clenched painfully. Kaz seemed to notice her silent reaction and caught the side of her face with his other hand. He tipped her chin upward, making her look away from the scar again and focus on him. “It’s fine, Violet.” “It isn’t fine. It’s—” Kaz’s hand slid from her cheek to her chin,

where he pressed the pad of his thumb against her lips, quieting her instantly. Violet sucked in a harsh breath when he tipped her head up again, and his palm grazed lower on her throat until his fingers tightened just enough to make her blood run hot. “It’s fine,” he repeated. “I’m perfectly fine.” Swallowing under his hold, she nodded. “We’re revisiting this, Kaz.” “Not right now.” “No, but later.” “Later,” Kaz agreed. “It’s been a while,” she whispered. Kaz smirked. “Worried?” “About what?” “I don’t know—stamina, no?” Violet laughed. “No.” “Then what?” “I don’t need soft.” Kaz lifted a brow. “Oh?” “And I really don’t want easy.” “Ah,” he said, stretching the word out in what felt like approval and anticipation to her. Then again, everything he did felt like that in

one way or another. It shouldn’t be surprising to her, but it was just the same. “Just wanted to make that clear,” Violet said, grinning up at him. Kaz matched the expression. “I said I loved you, yes?” “Yeah, but one more time isn’t going to hurt.” “Love you.” Violet’s eyes closed when she felt his thumb press into the hollow of her throat, and she echoed, “Love you, Kaz.” Maybe closing her eyes had been a mistake because all she felt was his arm circle her waist a second before she was airborne, and then her back was hitting the bed again. Her eyes flew wide as the breath rushed from her lungs. All she saw was his knees hitting the edge of the bed before he was looming above her. That hand was back on her throat in an instant, and Violet reacted to the rough touch by arching into his hold and widening her legs for him. “No soft, no easy,” he said. Violet shook her head, wetting her lips. “No.”

She wished he’d move just a little bit closer, so then maybe if she could at least feel the weight of his body against hers, she could get some relief for the throbbing ache between her thighs. Something. Kaz grinned like he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Does it ache?” “Like you don’t even know.” “I bet you’re so fucking wet for me, and I’ve barely even touched you.” “Probably.” No shame. “Good,” he said, his gaze raking down her naked, trembling form and only coming to a stop at the small scrap of lace that was her thong. “We’re doing this again, huh?” Violet pressed her lips together, knowing damn well what he was referring to. “They’re not my—” She didn’t even finish the sentence—that the panties weren’t one of her favorites as she had always proclaimed—before he let go of her throat, took hold of the flimsy fabric, and fucking tore it

from the top straight down to the middle until he could pull the ruined thong off her. Her skin stung from the roughness, but she couldn’t deny how the bite of pleasure and need followed right behind. Violet blinked, her air catching hard in her chest. “Jesus.” Kaz’s index finger stroked slow, lazy circles over Violet’s center, making her shake. “That’s better.” “You know I’m not really the demanding type, right?” “Not usually.” “You can draw this out another time—make me beg just the way you like. But not right now.” Kaz chuckled deeply. “Fair enough, I suppose. One question, though?” Violet let out a slow breath when a second finger joined his first; the circles stopped, and he deliberately began stroking her sex from her wet slit straight up to her clit. Unhurried swipes that pressed in just the right spots and made her whine. “What, Kaz?” “The last four months—”

Violet grabbed onto Kaz’s wrist, stopping his movement altogether. She found his gaze with her own, holding it steady. She wasn’t sure what he was going to say, or ask, but she wanted to make one thing clear before he even bothered. “Nobody else, just you,” she told him. The bit of tension that had stiffened his shoulders left just like that. “I didn’t think so,” Kaz said, “but I never asked you otherwise, either.” “I was waiting for you. I don’t—didn’t—want someone else. I still don’t, Kaz.” She wasn’t all too sure where or what he had been doing the last few days since his release, but she didn’t feel like she had to ask him about women. Not if he had wondered because, to her, that meant he hadn’t even considered anyone else but her anyway. “Is that it?” Violet asked. Kaz smiled, flashing his teeth. “Yeah, that’s it.” “And we’re clear.” “Like crystal.”

Violet didn’t get the chance to say another thing. Her words stumbled from her tongue in a high moan when his fingers found her slit again and pushed in deep. His thumb flicked up at the same time, pressing firmly into her clit. Violet’s hand tightened around his wrist as he fucked her like that, watching her every little movement, his grin deepening into something far darker and sexier with each thrust of his digits. No tricks, she had wanted to tell him. She just wanted him to fuck her stupid until she couldn’t think and was somewhere else entirely—somewhere sinful and beautiful with him. That demand was lost when Kaz curled his fingers on the plunge, and then widened them on the withdrawal. It’d been too long since she had him touching her like this, and she’d almost forgotten what it felt like. Almost. Except she couldn’t forget at all, her memories had not done his talents any justice, and her own hand had repeatedly failed to do what his could.

This was perfect—bliss. So she took his fingers and lost herself to the sounds of his harsh breaths, the flickers of pleasure starting to lick through her veins, and the wetness of her arousal smearing her thighs. So fucking good. “Come for me,” Kaz urged, his tone a husky whisper, “and I’ll really make it good, krasivaya.” Violet let her fingernails dig into the thin skin of his wrist, knowing damn well he’d feel it. She didn’t want soft, and she didn’t fucking need easy, so she wanted to make sure he still understood that. “Make me,” she taunted, breathless. Kaz sneered. He thrust his fingers a little harder, and his thumb drove into her clit a bit rougher. Another quick curl of his fingers against her G-spot and Violet exploded on the inside, sensations bursting under her heated skin like sparks from live wires. It was enough to silence the world around her for just that brief moment. With the relief of the orgasm came a whole slew of emotions as four months just caught right back up to her in a single

blink. Jesus. “Kaz.” His name came clawing out of her throat— harsh, high, and broken. She wasn't sure what did it for him—what made him snap. Her coming or her screaming out his name. But the cloying sensations of the orgasm weren’t even gone from her bloodstream before he was flipping her over and forcing her to her knees. Blinded by the waves of her hair for a moment, Violet could only take in breath after shuddering breath of air as his hands raked down her sensitive skin. Along her sides, back up her spine, then down again, and over the swell of her ass. When his one palm left her backside, she took the chance to inhale, knowing what was coming next. The first swat made her sigh. The second, placed a little lower, made her fingers curl hard into the sheets. The third, landing close enough to her pussy that the tips of his fingers grazed her sex, had her

moaning again. They hadn’t been sweet or playful. Her ass stung, and she felt the heat of the slaps traveling straight to the spot between her thighs. Kaz hummed under his breath, appreciative and sinful. “That’s a nice color, Violet,” he said behind her. Christ. Why was her throat so dry? She couldn’t make words form. Behind her, he moved on the bed, and she peered over her shoulder, making her hair fall out of the way so she could see again. Kaz kicked off his boxer-briefs before he reached out and grasped her inner thigh, squeezing tight and letting his fingers dig in deep enough to hurt. “Wider,” he demanded, his hand sliding up from her thigh to her sex again. Violet complied with his command, feeling him move in behind her again. The hard, thick line of his erection pressing into her backside had her stomach clenching with need again. “And we can’t have this, either,

Violet.” “What?” His hands found hers clenching the sheets. He carefully unfurled her fingers before bringing her hands up and putting them on the small headboard. It was only a foot higher than the bed itself and covered in soft, cool leather. “I am going to scratch that all to hell,” Violet told him. “It’ll ruin it.” Kaz just laughed. “Someone has to do it. Better it be you than to notice after it’s already been done by someone else, no?” “That’s awful.” “Maybe so.” Kaz’s hand landed on the other side of her ass with a fast, hard swat, making her yelp at the surprise slap. “Don’t let go, though.” Fuck. Violet opened her mouth to give him another smart-ass reply, but he leaned over her and grabbed a fistful of her hair. Tugging her head back until the muscles in her neck strained, he watched as she bared her teeth with a hiss right on the tip of her tongue. A sting radiated over her scalp, and it

was only intensified when Kaz gave a more playful tug on her hair, chuckling. “You know I love your mouth, yes?” he asked. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. “Then make sure you put it to good use for the next … while.” “A while?” she dared to ask. Kaz shifted behind her again, and she felt the head of his cock slide against the sliver of her pussy. She focused on that sensation, knowing he was just a flex of his hips away from what she wanted the most—what she had been waiting months for. “It’s a two and half hour flight. And I’ve got shit to work through.” Violet swallowed audibly but couldn’t hide the shiver crawling down her spine. “I missed you, Kaz.” She didn’t have to look back to know he was wearing a smug-as-fuck grin when he said, “I knew you did.” Violet didn’t get the chance to prepare for the next moment when his hips flexed forward; his

cock stretched her open, and he was filling her full with one hard, deep thrust. She focused on his voice, the hand pulling her hair taut, and that sting keeping her eyes wide and her teeth clenched. A whole new ache started. Shit, she’d forgotten—or just not realized— his size and girth. Usually, he would have given her some time to adjust or taken her a little slower. Instead, he’d entered her with no warning, and a whine ripped its way past her teeth. “Not soft, not easy,” he said behind her, his voice thick and hot in her ear. Violet let out a shaky mumble and shook her head. He was pulling out from her body with his next move and thrusting back in instantly. Hard enough to force her forward on the bed and make her grasp the headboard more firmly. That initial ache was gone, and with every slide and pull of his body against hers, her nerves snapped and screamed. Every single part of her could feel him somewhere. What started out as soft cries and jittery breaths quickly turned into deep moans and pants

when he started a fast rhythm, keeping her neck taut and her ass high. Violet pushed back to meet his every thrust, wanting him deeper and needing that slight bite of pain that came with sex when it had been too long. “Fuck,” Kaz muttered, “I wish you could see this, Violet. See what I see.” Hearing him was enough. Feeling him, too. She still couldn’t help but peer back over her shoulder, only to find his gaze fixed on the spot where their bodies met. She felt his hand palm her ass roughly, and his thumb slide along the swell as he grabbed tight and stretched her open a little more. “So tight—it almost hurts,” he groaned. Violet’s teeth sunk into her lower lip as the familiar wisps of pleasure started building in her body again. He must have felt the way her pussy was clamping down on his cock because his next thrust came so much harder, enough for her eyes to fly shut and to make a scream of his name escape her lips.

She still felt as if she couldn’t breathe, but she was. Staccato breaths—but it was there. Violet found herself lost in the sensations all over again. The sounds of their fucking, the smell of sex in the air, his gruff voice demanding she fucking take it and fucking come, Violet. And so she did—hard, crying, and shaking. It was as if they hadn’t even been separated. It was as if that time didn’t exist. Not then. Not when they were like this.

The soft knock on the cabin door had Kaz shooting up, wild eyes trying to peer through the darkness of the room. But there was no danger, and he wasn’t in jail anymore. At the moment, several thousand miles above the earth, he was the safest he could ever be.

“Yeah?” he called, sitting up further, even as he glanced down at the shadowy shape of Violet’s body. She was still out cold. “We’ll be landing soon. You have to be seated.” “Thanks.” Kaz took a moment to get his bearings before he felt around the floor for his pants and shoved his legs into them. Circling the bed, he touched a hand to Violet’s side, shifting it up to her shoulder, and then to the mark he had left behind along the curve of her neck. She stirred, her eyes blinking open. “We’re about to land.” She didn’t question him, merely redressed and joined him back in the cabin. Not too long after, he could see the lights of the private runway where they were landing. As they got closer to the ground, he could better see the car waiting for them at the end of it. And if the way Violet had stiffened beside him were any indication, she’d noticed it as well. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he told her

as they came to a rolling stop. “Are they Russian?” Scratching the back of his head, Kaz nodded. “But you’re with me, and that’s all they need to know.” Violet still didn’t look convinced, but she would just have to take his word for it, or at least until she formed an opinion for herself. At least they weren’t going to be around the family for the next couple of weeks. When they came to a stop, Violet was out of her seat belt first, heading back to the bedroom. “I’ll grab … whatever’s left.” Or mentally prepare herself, Kaz thought. He was the only Russian she had spent any real length of time with. She didn’t understand their customs, their rules, and was practically stepping into the middle of an unfamiliar environment. This was new for her, and he wouldn’t push her. The door to the plane buzzed as it fell open, and Kaz pulled out a handful of bills from his

pocket, tipping the pilot and flight attendant before going out to meet someone he hadn’t seen in at least a year. Upon first glance, Konstantin Boykov didn’t look to be a threat to anyone, but Kaz knew what the man could do with a pocketknife and a little inspiration. Only two years younger than Kaz was, his name was already being whispered; some higher-ups believed he was ready for the very stars Kaz had on his own chest. For right now, though, he was second to his father. Still mentoring was how Vadim had described it, but Kaz recognized it for what it was. He was being groomed to take the old man’s spot. “Been a while, Markovic,” Konstantin said as he stepped forward, shaking one of Kaz’s hands even as he reached around to clap him on the back. “What have you done this time?” Kaz didn’t get a chance to answer before they were both turning at Violet’s sudden appearance as she came down the steps. She hadn’t only gone back for whatever was left behind in the bedroom, but she had also fixed her hair and straightened her

clothes further. But there was no hiding that purpling bruise he had left her with. “Guess you made your point,” Konstantin said with a grin, turning his eyes to Violet. “You’re her, then? Italian, no?” “Yes.” “And let me guess, Alberto Gallucci’s daughter?” Violet glanced at Kaz, a question in her eyes, before she said, “Yeah. How did you know that?” “There are only two big Italian families in New York at the moment—your father is the larger of the two.” That answer would have been good enough. It explained, while not, at the same time, but Konstantin wasn’t finished. “And Kaz has a pair of fucking stones on him. Of course he’s fucking the one who’s going to get him shot the quickest. So where are we headed?” It took every ounce of self-control Kaz possessed not to respond to the man, especially when he knew Konstantin was only trying to get a

reaction out of Violet. But like any other good Italian principessa, she gave no reaction at all. “Are we going to stand here all night, or are you going to drive?” Kaz asked, gesturing to the Mercedes behind them. Unbothered, Konstantin merely smiled and spun his keys around his finger. “Welcome to Chicago.”

Violet came awake slowly, knowing she was going to regret opening her eyes once she did. Already, the brightness of daylight was seeping through her closed lids, and there would be no getting out of waking up once she saw the sun. Wasn’t Chicago supposed to be overcast and gray? She wanted another three hours of sleep, at least. After a plane ride, and then a long enough drive to get to their destination, it had been closing in on well after two in the morning. Violet yanked the soft duvet higher over her

head in an attempt to pretend she hadn’t seen the damn sunlight. “Ah, no,” she heard said from somewhere to her right. “You’re not going back to sleep. It’s almost noon. You need food, yes? I’m hungry too, Violet.” That was the only warning she had gotten before the duvet was tugged on hard enough to pull it off her entirely. Glaring, Violet watched a laughing Kaz walk out of the bedroom with a two finger wave. Ass. At least it’s a nice ass, she thought. It took her another ten minutes before she convinced herself to get out of the comfortable bed and attempt to get ready for the day—afternoon. Whatever. Violet didn’t do well with the lack of sleep. She wasn’t going to pretend otherwise, either. As she went in search of something to put on, she took in the surroundings of the bedroom. She hadn’t been able to do much of that the night before, as she’d been too tired.

The four-poster bed sat against the back wall with matching nightstands on either side. Despite the neutral shades present throughout the room, someone had clearly taken their time decorating the space to make it feel more welcoming. Settling on the dress shirt Kaz had left tossed aside the night before, Violet decided that was good enough until she actually had to get dressed. It wasn’t as if they were going to be entertaining a plethora of visitors, surely. And maybe Violet liked that a little bit. She liked the thought of a stretch of uninterrupted time with just her and Kaz. Something they really hadn’t been able to have together before. Something else was always getting in the way—their fathers, his job, her curfews. Those things didn’t exist here. Violet decided to stop being grumpy about being woke up before she wanted to actually get up. There would be no phone calls sending her rushing home and no time constraints pushing them apart again. Maybe she’d like Chicago.

For now … The two-level townhouse sported two bedrooms upstairs and another that looked to be an office of sorts as Violet passed it on the way to the stairwell. Along the wall of the stairwell, a few pictures of a city skyline—she suspected it was Chicago—hung in a haphazard fashion. Violet stopped for a second, staring at the pictures. It made her wonder something. This place wasn’t barren. The townhouse was far from empty. It was decorated, filled with furniture, and a familiar Porsche had been sitting in the driveway the night before when they’d arrived. Violet knew Kaz had been planning this to some extent. She just didn’t realize quite how much until now. “Krasivaya?” “I’m up,” Violet said, resuming her trek down the last few steps. She passed a large living room and a second bathroom as she made her way to a black and

white decorated kitchen that sported stainless steel appliances and chrome accents. Leaning in the doorway, Violet admired the sight of Kaz’s bare back as he opened a few cabinets, searching for the things he wanted. As he pulled out instant coffee, sugar, and powder creamer, along with two cups, Violet’s smile grew a little more. Each and every shift of his body left her a little more mesmerized. Maybe she could understand why he had always enjoyed watching her when she wasn’t looking. Clearing her throat, Kaz acted as if she hadn’t surprised him. “Are you happy?” she asked. “You got me up.” “Very. The place is empty of most things to eat. We can fix that easily enough. I have a bit, though. Coffee, yes?” Violet walked a little further into the kitchen, coming to a stop at the island. “Coffee is good.” Kaz filled an electric kettle and turned it on before he finally turned around to face her completely. She wasn’t sure what to expect from

him only a morning after they’d left New York and all the craziness they probably created in their wake. Concern, maybe. A little anxiety. Stress, even. Kaz was none of that. His smile—lax and easy —only grew as she climbed up to sit on one of the stools. He was already reaching out a hand to take one of hers, before pulling it up to press a quick kiss to her knuckles. Smirking a bit, his gaze fell on her neck, and he said, “Unless you don’t care, I hope you have a way to cover that mark, Violet.” She refused to feed into his teasing. “I’ll figure something out.” “Mmm.” “Or I won’t.” Kaz’s brow lifted; he put her hand back down as the kettle started to boil and then clicked off shortly after. He went back to work making coffee —Violet was convinced it was one of the only things he could do well in a kitchen, besides toss

out take-out containers. “In the fruit tree,” Kaz said, offering no explanation. Violet glanced around for what he was talking about and found a multi-level, metal fruit basket in the shape of a tree sitting in the middle of the table across the kitchen. She went over to retrieve whatever it was he wanted inside. Several restaurant take-out menus rested on the top tier of the basket. Violet found the ones that served breakfast and brought them back to the island. Kaz had her coffee waiting by the time she got there. He had stolen her seat, though. Instead of letting her pick another stool, he quickly wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her up onto his lap. Without saying a word, he rested his chin on her shoulder, tilting his head just enough so that his nose and mouth brushed her neck while his hand rested possessively high on her bare thigh. “Find something you want,” he said, “before it gets too late and they won’t serve breakfast.”

“Call it brunch.” “That word didn’t even exist until lazy, rich women made it up.” Violet didn’t bother to argue the point because he was probably right. “What do you want to eat?” She felt his smile grow sinful against her skin. “They won’t serve it, krasivaya.” Heat pooled deep in the pit of her stomach at his suggestive words. “Stop that.” Kaz’s fingers danced a little higher on her thigh, making a quick line to work between them. “I could, but—” Loud voices, a slamming door, and the sounds of shoes hitting hardwood stopped Kaz’s fingers in their trek. Kaz lifted his head slightly, turning just enough to see the entryway of the kitchen. Nervousness settled deep in Violet. He hadn't said people were coming over. She wasn’t even properly dressed. Still, his hand tightened to her leg as if he didn’t plan to let her leave, either. “Kaz?” The new voice stunned Violet for a second—it

was female. The second voice, gruffer and deeper, didn’t sound pleased at all. “Maya, goddamn, woman. You don’t need to be shouting in someone’s house, no? It’s not even noon yet. Ostanovit with that shit, huh?” “Shut up, Kolya.” Violet’s brow raised a little higher as a petite, dark-haired woman barreled into the kitchen with a grin firmly planted on her face. Her gaze quickly took in Violet, but just as fast, it moved to Kaz. She was almost pixie-like in appearance and smallframed like a dancer, maybe. The short, spiked style of her hair certainly added to her whole fairy aura. “You are here,” Maya said. “And that asshole didn't tell me.” “That asshole is right here, Maya.” The man who strolled in behind Maya, a scowl etched onto his strong features, looked like he wanted to be just about anywhere but there at that moment. He stood a good foot and a half taller than the girl did and looked to be at least two-

hundred pounds, if not more, of solid muscle. His size, mixed in with the dismissive attitude he sported, screamed ‘back off.’ Violet wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but the man’s—Kolya, the girl had said—dark eyes barely passed Violet a glance. In fact, he only looked at Kaz. “I tried,” he offered, saying nothing else. “She’s nosy as shit.” Maya’s hand swung out and smacked Kolya hard in the stomach. “Shut up, you.” Kolya barely reacted. “Sorry, Kaz.” Kaz shrugged. “All’s good.” For him, maybe. Violet still didn’t know who these people were. She put her hand over Kaz’s on her thigh and squeezed, trying to convey her questions without outright asking. She didn’t want to be rude to people she figured were probably his friends. Even if the man across the room still didn’t look all that approachable or friendly. She really wished she had put on some goddamn pants.

Kaz pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and helped her down from the stool. Standing, Violet was grateful the dress shirt fell to her mid-thigh and kept her decent enough. Kaz stood, too, taking his coffee with him. “Couldn’t wait a couple of days, Maya?” Kaz asked. Maya rocked on her heels. “Why should I? You didn’t even bother to tell me you were coming to the city.” Kaz nodded in Violet’s direction. “Maybe I had a reason for that, no?” “I didn’t know that, either!” Maya’s bright blue eyes swung back to Violet’s quiet form; she looked her over and grinned a little wider. “Hi. Maya”—she pointed at herself then at Kolya —“and Mr. Asshole here is Kolya. Don’t mind him; he didn’t get his hugs this morning.” For a brief second, Kolya’s schooled, cold features cracked as surprise flitted over his face, and he glanced down at the woman. “Maya—” “What’s your name?” she asked, ignoring him completely.

Kolya sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maya, no.” Kaz chuckled. “Be nice, yeah? She’s not hurting anyone.” “Maya, sure, but—” “I was talking about Violet,” Kaz interrupted smoothly, his smile gone as he passed Kolya an indecipherable look. Even Maya quieted at that, and the girl seemed like a ball of energy that didn’t know how to be silent or still. Violet figured out that much in just the short time she’d spent in her presence. People like that were hard not to like. Kolya’s features blanked again, his gaze hard as he looked at Violet and then at Kaz. “She cares —likes you. I don’t want those sorts of problems. You know how she is.” “She is right here,” Maya snapped. Kaz’s hand came up to cup the back of Violet’s neck gently, but he looked at Kolya as he spoke. “Somewhere else, yes? Upstairs, outside. Whatever. Not here.” Kolya frowned. “Fine. Maya—”

“Stays,” Kaz said. “No harm.” Then Kaz gave Violet a smile and another quick kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Drink your coffee, get dressed, hmm? I’ll be back.” Still not quite sure what had happened or what was wrong, Violet watched Kaz stroll out of the kitchen with Kolya following close on his heels. But not before he tugged playfully on a short strand of Maya’s hair as he left. The action alone was affectionate enough for Violet to know the two were in a relationship. As soon as the two men were gone, Maya turned back on Violet. “So … Violet, yes?” she asked. Violet shrugged. “Yep.” “New York?” “Born and raised.” “I heard you come from the Italians,” the girl said. Violet blinked, unsure. “Why has everyone I’ve met so far brought that up?” Maya laughed. “Because it’s important. Are you going to order food?”

“We were in the process of it. Why?” “I’m starving.” Just like that, Maya dropped the whole ‘Italian’ thing, and strolled across the kitchen to pick up the food menus Violet had set down earlier. The girl passed Violet another look. “So you and Kaz, huh?” “Uh … yeah.” “Glad he finally figured out something about his life.”

Kaz hadn’t given much thought to the rooftop greenhouse garden that was listed with the property when he had Rus make the transaction for him. What the fuck would he do with it? But as he walked behind Kolya out onto it, he found a use. The moment the door shut behind them, Kaz stopped, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You

good, Kolya?” “What the fuck do you care?” Kaz’s eye twitched as he tried to remind himself that this was his friend, and it wasn’t a good idea to shoot one’s friends. But over the years, he didn’t think he had ever met someone as perpetually upset as Kolya was. It was as if the man only knew how to be angry, at all things all the time. It still amazed him how Maya was able to put up with his shit. “Whatever the problem is, Violet had no part of it. So either show her a little more respect, or I’ll give you a reason to.” Kolya didn’t respond to warnings as any rational person would; rather he reacted as though it were a challenge. One second, he was still angry, and the next, he was offering a manic smile, looking at Kaz with a brow arched. “That so? And how exactly are you trying to teach that lesson, pizda?” Kaz used to react when Kolya called him a pussy. He’d let his anger take over until they were both exhausted and bleeding, but that was back

when Kaz was a hothead. Now, he hardly reacted at all. “You really want to do this now?” “Then what’s your preference? Before or after those goddamn Italians try to come crawling through here to find her?” Kolya took a step forward, his eyes narrowed on Kaz. “I don’t care, Kaz. Whatever fucking happens to her, not my problem, but because you care, Maya will care. You know more than anyone how fragile she can be, and when she takes this shit on, I’ll have to fix it.” “Then your problem is with me,” Kaz said after a moment. “Don’t give her shit because you decided to indulge your wife. If you really didn’t want her here, she wouldn’t be.” Kolya opened his mouth to speak, but the door opened behind them. Konstantin popped his head out, already smiling at the sight of them. “Bad time?” “Fuck off.” “Good to see you too, brother.” No one could truly explain the relationship

between the two Boykov brothers. With Kolya as the oldest at the same age as Kaz and Konstantin as the youngest, they were always in some battle of wills whenever Kaz crossed their paths. It almost seemed like Konstantin enjoyed pushing his brother as far as he could before Kolya would snap back, usually with a fist to somewhere on his brother’s body. It was impossible to miss the certain competitive nature between the brothers. Though weren’t most siblings like that? Kaz didn’t fully understand why Konstantin was being groomed to take over his father’s position with him being the youngest brother, but then again, many things about other Bratvas were kept quiet. Kaz’s own brother, Ruslan, and his preference for men was a good example of that. Vasily kept all of that hush-hush. But obviously, given Kolya had been married for two years to Maya, he didn’t have that same issue. Maybe he just hadn’t wanted to be the boss —Kaz didn’t know, and he didn’t ask. “I see the girls are getting along just fine down

in the kitchen,” Konstantin said, grinning in that way of his. Kaz reminded himself again that it was not nice to shoot friends. “You’d better not have made one of your fucking comments to Violet.” Konstantin’s eyes flew wide in false innocence. “I would never.” Bullshit. This man thrived on chaos. “I’m warning you,” Kaz said. “Unless you’re looking for a fist to the throat.” “They didn’t even see me.” That did nothing to make Kaz feel better. “You have to go through the kitchen to get to the stairs, so how the fuck are you up here if they didn’t see you.” “I went through a window, but that’s not what’s important right now.” Kaz put his fingers to his temples, looking back and forth between the both of them, trying to make sure he heard clearly. “What’s happening right now? Are you two fucking with me?” “Waste of my time,” Kolya mumbled, glancing

at the silver watch adorning his wrist. “So what is it, Kaz? Besides the fucking obvious explanation down in the kitchen, why are you here? If you were trying to hide out, you’d fuck off to some other country and be done with it. But you came here, which means you’re into some shit. So if I have to step in it, at least let me know what kind it is.” “Vasily,” Kaz said. It was all he needed to say for Kolya to understand. “Right. That I can get on board with it.” Not with keeping a girl safe from her crazyass family, but let the man hear about taking down his enemy and he was all for it. Fucking Kolya. “We never did get around to explaining how you wanted to go about that, Kaz,” Konstantin jumped in. Kolya fell silent once the question was asked, he too looking at Kaz for an explanation. The answer wasn’t one that would be easy to hear or even one that would be relatively easy to execute. No, every night for four months, Kaz had gone over strategies, working through multiple

scenarios at a time because he knew his father better than most, so he had a good idea as to how he would react. All it took was a spider.

Violet listened to Maya chatter on the phone as she placed a brunch order that was far too large for just four people. She felt someone watching her from behind, though she hadn’t heard anyone come in the house, and spun on her heel to see who it was. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman with delicate features leaned in the kitchen entryway, an apple raised to her painted red lips as she took a bite. She didn’t say a word, just chewed on her bite and looked Violet over like she was deciding what to say. At least Violet had taken a minute to run upstairs and pull a pair of jeans on. She still hadn’t

taken Kaz’s shirt off, though. Finally, the girl swallowed her bite and said, “Zdrastvooyte.” Violet blinked, not having the slightest clue what the girl said. “Uh …” Maya reached out her hand, waved back and forth between Violet and the new girl, and then waved again, mouthing, “Hello.” Ah. Violet turned back to the newcomer. “Hello.” “I guess you don’t speak Russian, huh?” the girl asked. Obviously not. “English and Italian,” Violet said. “No Russian, sorry.” Maya hung up the phone, finished with her order. “Oh, I’m sure she knows a few phrases—no Russian I know doesn’t go a day without spilling a cuss or two. Especially when he’s fuck—” “That’s enough of that,” the girl interrupted. “I don’t want or need to know what my brother does or does not do and says with his wife, thanks.” “I wasn't talking about Kolya,” Maya replied

sweetly. “I was talking about—” “I’m Violet.” Violet jumped in, wanting to get the two off the topic they were heading for. She didn’t know these two women especially well, and she didn’t know what history they might or might not have with Kaz. She wasn’t all that interested in finding out, either. “And I didn’t hear you come in.” The girl shrugged. “Konstantin likes to fuck with people—you need better window locks.” Again, Violet just stared at the girl, unsure of what to say. She’d mention that window thing to Kaz, though. Maya sighed. “You have zero people skills, Vik.” “She’s not running away, no?” Where would Violet go, exactly? “Violet, this is Viktoria Boykov,” Maya said, waving to the girl still standing in the kitchen entryway. “And preevyet would have been just fine. No need to be so formal.” “For someone I don’t know—not likely.”

Maya rolled her eyes and waved a hand like she was dismissing Viktoria. “Don’t mind her attitude; it’s not noon yet, which means she shouldn’t be out of bed.” Viktoria smiled serenely. “Yet here I am.” “And why is that?” Maya asked. “Kon came over saying someone was in town —figured I should come and say hello.” “Why?” Violet asked before she could stop herself or think better of it. Maybe it was the fact she didn’t get particularly nice vibes from Viktoria, or it could just be that she didn’t know the woman all that well. Still, the girl was a sort of beautiful that had an almost cold quality to it. Right from the platinum of her hair to the iciness of her blue gaze. So Violet was left wondering how this woman knew Kaz at all, and why she felt like she had to come over as soon as he was in town just to say hello. Viktoria turned her sights on Violet. “Why, what?” Violet’s upbringing made it difficult for her to

be put in any sort of situation with confrontation. She had been taught to sit down, be pretty, and stay quiet. There was no need for her to go causing trouble when there were enough people who would do that for her. “Why come over?” Viktoria shrugged. “Old friends—it’s the right thing to do. And Kaz is always causing … some sort of ruckus. I enjoy the entertainment.” Maya pursed her lips, eyeing her sister-in-law from the side. “Cut it out, Vik.” Violet didn’t like the sound of that, either. Viktoria acted like she hadn’t heard Maya at all. “And it seems, this time, he’s really gotten himself mixed up in something fun. My brother— Kon—he talks. Maybe too much.” Stiffening, Violet asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?” The girl smiled in that cool, unbothered way of hers. “Welcome to Chicago, Violet Gallucci. I certainly hope you’re worth the trouble you’re about to cause.”

Kaz didn’t know what to expect when he came down from the roof with Konstantin and Kolya trailing, but it definitely wasn’t the girls sitting around the island. Maya was at the front door, collecting the delivery bags from the man standing on the other side. Like any good guard dog, Kolya broke away from them to help his wife—if help meant scowl at the man who was merely trying to get her to sign the receipt. When he reached Violet’s side, he scanned her face even as he dropped his hand to the small of

her back. While she might not have looked upset, he knew Violet had a way of hiding what she was thinking from him. She did offer a smile, no matter how fleeting, before her attention returned to their guests. Kaz also didn’t miss Viktoria glaring at him from out of the corner of his eye. Most people mistook her surly disposition for being a bitch, but Kaz was one of the few who knew her well enough to know it was all a part of the wall she put up to keep people away—not to mention all the shit that happened sixteen months ago between her and her then boyfriend. One of the few times no one tried to call Kolya off someone. Beneath his touch, he could feel Violet stiffen, and when his eyes snapped back to her, she was looking back and forth between the pair of them, a thinly veiled accusation in her expression. Bending slightly so he was at her ear, Kaz said, “It was never like that.” “Not even once?” she asked in return. “You don’t stick your dick in a boss’

daughter,” Kaz said then added, “at least not a Russian one.” Rolling her eyes, she shoved him, looking back at Maya, who was grabbing plates from a cabinet. Konstantin took the seat next to his sister, but it wasn’t as innocent as he tried to portray, not when he hadn’t lost his smile. “So … is someone going to address the Italian elephant in the room, or nah?” he asked, glancing at each of them in turn. When Kaz leveled a look at him, he ignored it. But Violet sat up a little straighter, staring over at him. “Go ahead. Address me.” Konstantin wasn’t taken aback by the challenge in her tone—it merely spurred him on. “How did the two of you meet? I highly doubt you cross paths often.” “It was my birthday,” Violet said, glancing down at the plate Maya set on the table in front of her. “My friends and I went to his brother’s club by mistake.” “You’ve met Rus then …” “Yes.”

“And he approves?” This, Konstantin asked in Russian, knowing Violet wouldn’t understand what he was saying. Kaz shrugged. “Couldn’t have gotten here without him.” That much was true, but that didn’t mean Ruslan approved of Violet. He was the kind of person who liked someone simply because Vasily didn’t—he and his brother shared that trait—but as to whether Ruslan actually thought anything of Violet, Kaz had never thought to ask. It wasn’t as if he had much chance to do so before he was sitting in a jail cell. “Curious,” Konstantin said as his gaze shot back to Violet. “What do you see in Kaz?” “A part you’ve never seen.” Maya’s surprised laughter cut through the room, and even Kolya cracked a smile though it only lasted a few seconds. Even Konstantin was laughing softly at Violet’s remark as he reached for the food in front of him. “Have you always been so selfish?” The laughter in the room came to a halt as

Viktoria’s question pierced the air. She hadn’t even paused her eating when she asked, cutting into her omelet with a little more force than necessary. But while Kaz had thought to entertain this interrogation since he knew Violet could handle her own, he knew it was no longer innocent, not with the way Viktoria had asked that question with too much lilting innocence woven through it. He didn’t have time for that shit. “Vik—” “I’m just asking,” she was quick to say. “Maybe she actually cares about you, or maybe she’s never had Russian cock, but I would like to know what I’m dealing with. Girls like her don’t give a fuck about what happens to everyone else their drama touches.” Kaz’s sharp reply was at the ready, but Konstantin beat him to it, and in a way that Kaz wouldn’t have. “Enough.” Viktoria’s lips pressed together at the sharp command from her brother, not daring to say anything more—no one ever did. No one would have thought Konstantin was

ever capable of being serious, not when he found humor in most things, but there was another side to him, the one his father had groomed and sharpened —the one that would make him a formidable boss once he took the reins. So when he gave a command, there was no question as to whether it would be heeded. “I think we’re done now, no?” Konstantin asked, pushing his seat back and getting to his feet. Viktoria frowned down at her plate. “I’m not —” Konstantin didn’t give her a chance to finish before he was snatching up her unfinished plate and tossing the food in the trash before setting the plate and utensils in the sink. When he looked at his sister expectantly, she silently climbed to her feet and grabbed her coat without meeting anyone’s eyes. “Give me a call when you’re ready to get started,” Konstantin said as he clapped Kaz on the shoulder. Then, without warning, he touched a hand to Violet’s back, just a quick touch that couldn’t be mistaken. “Pleasure seeing you again, Violet.”

She mumbled something in return but seemed too shocked by the situation to say anything more. Without a word to anyone, however, Viktoria was out the door ahead of Konstantin; the sound of a car door slamming was heard before he could even close the front door. It was after their departure that Kolya stood, readying to leave as well. He stepped off to the side with Kaz as Maya spoke with Violet one last time. “You’ll need to get on this,” Kolya said, never taking his eyes off his wife. “Whether for yourself or for her, you only have so long before someone comes knocking.” “I hear you.” And he did. If Vasily didn’t know where he was by now— and Kaz had no doubt he’d been searching—he would within the next twenty-four hours. Undoubtedly with some assistance from Alberto Gallucci. And he wasn’t ready for him to enter the equation just yet.

Violet tipped her head back at the feeling of Kaz’s fingers threading into her hair. From behind the couch, he looked down at her, leaned over to give her a quick kiss, and then straightened back up again. “Stay inside,” he said. “Out of sight.” She knew better than to argue with him, despite how nice of a day it was outside with the cold. Nice weather for a walk, but Violet had yet to explore the community the townhouse was located in—and they had been in Chicago for a week. Always, she was told to stay inside. Kaz came and went, without much explanation as to what he was doing, not that Violet minded enough to ask. But she was getting a little bored. And curious.

“Violet?” Kaz asked, drawing her out of her thoughts. “Hmm?” “Inside, out of sight. I’ll be back soon.” She straightened back up on the couch, sighing. “Inside. Got it.” Kaz tugged playfully on her hair again. “Don’t pout.” Violet grinned, unable to stop the action. “I thought you liked that?” “Another time,” Kaz responded, smirking in that way of his. She tipped her head back for another kiss before he disappeared out of the living room, and she heard the front door close as he left the house. As much as she pretended she didn’t mind when he had to go, once he was gone, everything else felt a little colder. The townhouse was too quiet. TV was boring. At least, when Kaz was there, she could entertain herself with him. Violet wasn’t used to sitting around doing nothing and … waiting.

Well, that was how Kaz put it. She wasn't sure what they were waiting for exactly. Flipping through the television channels, Violet tried to find something interesting enough to keep her attention diverted from the restlessness burrowing deep in her nerves. She understood Kaz’s demands, as far as that went. It was likely people were looking for them—their fathers, most importantly. She just didn’t understand why he could flash his face in public, but she had to stay put. Violet had just found a familiar sitcom she enjoyed and got herself comfortably situated on the couch when a ringing started to echo throughout the bottom floor of the townhouse. It took her a full ten seconds to realize it was the house phone. Since their arrival, that phone had rung maybe twice. And once was a restaurant calling back to confirm the address when a deliveryman had lost it on his way over to deliver their dinner. Violet scrambled off the couch and went in search of the ringing phone. She found it hanging in

the kitchen. Not thinking that she shouldn’t answer the call—Kaz hadn’t said anything about the phone —Violet picked it up. Her standard greeting—born of habit and culture—was right on the tip of her tongue. “Ciao?” she asked into the receiver. “Ah, Italian, even better.” Violet straightened at the unfamiliar, gruff voice on the other end of the call. While she didn’t know who was calling, the accent was one she had grown used to. The caller’s next words sealed any confusion she might have had left. “I expected my son to pick up the phone, Miss Gallucci, but better it be you, I suppose. What is that old saying—killing two birds with one stone, no?” Vasily Markovic. Fuck. Somehow … she just had a feeling … Violet knew she’d fucked up. “I have nothing to say to—” “I’m sure you don’t,” Vasily interrupted smoothly. “But better you listen for a bit, anyway.”

Violet resisted the immediate urge to slam the phone down on the receiver and then call Kaz. But only because Vasily didn't give her a choice as he started talking before she could. “What did you think was going to happen, Violet?” the man asked. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and squeezed the phone a little tighter. “I don’t understand what you mean, Vas—” “Ah, no, my dear. There’s no need for you to use my name—we’re certainly not familiar enough for that, and I have no intention of becoming familiar enough with you to allow you to use it.” Jesus. This man was something else. Kaz occasionally spoke of his father’s theatrics and the man’s hostile demeanor, but Violet had never experienced it firsthand. She didn't know the man. “Before we get off topic, I’ll ask again. What did you think would happen after you took off with my son? Did you think you would be allowed to skip off into the sunset toward a happily ever after

of your own making?” Violet opened her mouth to respond with something as equally biting as Vasily’s comments, but his sharp laughter stopped her. “You’re young, of course,” he said quieter, “and I’m sure that reason alone will be the one and only thing to save you from the worst part of your father’s wrath once he comes looking for you. And, my dear, he will come looking for you.” A tightening sensation curled around Violet’s chest, threatening to cut off her airways. She knew Vasily was only trying to get a reaction out of her or, worse, frighten her. But it was working. “At this point,” Vasily continued, his tone amused as if he were talking about his favorite sports team, “it is no longer a matter of if your father will come looking for you, but when. And you see, when he does, and when he finds you … you should seriously consider what that might mean, girl. For my son, I mean. While I care for Kazimir on some level, I’m beginning to think his cock makes all the decisions where he’s

concerned, and I can’t have that. Perhaps this— your father—is the lesson he needs to learn, no matter how badly it’ll end for him. Is that what you want—his blood on your hands because you fancy yourself in love?” Violet’s teeth clenched. “Go to hell.” Vasily let out another dark laugh. “Do yourself the biggest favor you can, Violet, and go home to your father before he doesn’t give you a choice. Because if Alberto Gallucci can’t get you back, then I suspect he will blame me—as it’s my son you’ve chosen to spread your legs for. Now, should I have to come after you as a … an apology, of sorts … for your father, you will not like how I do so. I will be neither careful nor easy. And you will come, girl, even if you bleed the whole way.”

Well, shit. The last thing Kaz had been expecting when

Konstantin invited him to the compound to talk business was the literal wall of money he was currently staring at in disbelief, his fingers ghosting over the cellophane wrapped around it. He had heard rumors, of course, that the Boykov family had their hands on their very own print shop—their name for the counterfeiting business they were in—but to see the reality of it … Kaz had no words. “Yeah, I was like that the first time, too,” Konstantin said as he walked up with his hands in his pockets. “Here, I’ll give you a look.” Waving for him to follow, Konstantin headed toward the metal steps on the other end of the room that led down to the lowest level of the warehouse where they printed the money. There were at least two racks of printing presses, each row spitting out sheets of uncut, onesided denominations. One looked to be printing the front side of a bill, while the other printed the back side. “Basic printing,” Konstantin said. “Only the basics on the bill. The ink is a car-based paint—

the type that gives off the metallic sheen in the sun.” Kaz raised a single brow, curious. “Why?” “It’s one way they spot a fake, by using conductivity and magnetic tests on a bill, not that most cashiers have that ability.” Konstantin nodded at the printers as another sheet rolled out. “Those are twenties. We’re working smaller denominations right now for an order, but we do anything from fifties to hundreds, it really just depends. Now, that paper … that’s the important shit.” “Why’s that?” “Ever handed over a hundred-dollar bill and the cashier brings out a pen to mark on it?” Kaz didn't even have to think about it. “Every time I spend one.” “Very few papers are pretreated in just the right chemicals to make the paper react properly to the ink in those markers. It took us a few tries to find the right paper that was both thin enough to be able to press two sheets together and still feel like a real bill after it was finished, but also to pass

that marker test.” “Which paper was it?” “The same kind they make phonebooks with,” Konstantin explained. Kaz laughed, amused at the seeming simplicity of the whole operation. “This can’t be it, man. You don’t just take two sheets of paper and stick them together. If that were the case, we both know there’d be a fuck lot more people in this trade.” “You’re right.” Konstantin waved at the floor and the metal tables where men stood working before he said, “This business is more than making fake money—it’s almost an art form. And it’s been around for more decades than most people know. It’s one of the oldest practices in the world. Our bills are nearly as good as the real thing.” “Oh?” “Damn near. We’ve got the threads, the strip, the watermarks, and the hologram. The only problem we have is the definition of the bills, but you can’t see that small issue unless you have it under a magnifying glass, and most cashiers don’t carry those. Putting it up to the light, seeing what

they’ve been told, and marking the bill with the marker is enough.” Kaz was thoroughly impressed. “How, though?” “How what?” “Do you get them that perfect—that unnoticeable, I suppose.” Konstantin laughed deeply. “Like I said, it’s an art. And I’m not about to spill the secrets that make this trade as lucrative as it is. On a good month, which is fucking almost every month for us, we’re making anywhere from eighty-nine to ninety-one cents on the dollar.” Kaz whistled appreciatively, knowing that was a good number to be making on each counterfeit dollar. “Shit.” “But that’s business for another day. Let’s go to my office.” Konstantin’s office was located on the top floor in the west corner. Though it gave no outward appearance, about a foot of each wall on either side was bulletproof, as well as the door. It was a panic room, and should he ever have the need, a

door at the back of the room concealed an elevator. Few were as adamant about their security as Konstantin was. “You’ve been here a week, no?” Konstantin asked as he circled his desk to take a seat. “What’s the word?” “Nothing.” Konstantin didn’t answer, just gave him a look. “Yeah,” Kaz responded. “I know.” Kaz wasn’t foolish enough to believe his father would never find him. He wasn’t Pakhan just because of lineage. So that Vasily had yet to contact him by now troubled him. His lack of contact only meant one of two things. Either he knew exactly where Kaz was and was making preparations to send some of his guys to say hello … Or he was stalling for Alberto Gallucci. It wasn’t like the pair of them hadn’t been willing to make deals before … And from the way they could come together to set Kaz up, he wouldn’t put it past them to be working together

now, each with their own incentive. “Right. What are you going to do about it?” He was going to have to force a reaction. His plan could only work if he were able to make Vasily slip. “I’ll make the arrangements tonight, that—” Kaz paused as the phone in his pocket vibrated, alerting him to a call. The phone was new, a burner, whose number he had specifically given to Violet and only Violet —if Rus or Vera ever had need of him, they could have called Konstantin to relay a message. Digging it out, he connected the call and placed the phone to his ear. “Vi—” “Vasily called.” Kaz tensed, hearing the fear in her voice, but he was more concerned with the situation at hand. So, as he had thought, Vasily knew where he was—and who he was with—but he had chosen to make a phone call instead of making an appearance to deliver whatever the fuck he had to say in person. Alberto was definitely involved.

Kaz knew his father. Vasily loved grand theatrics when it came to delivering his warnings or punishing someone who crossed him. And while he might not have been able to do it in person, he could still have his fun with a phone call. That phone call was probably meant for him, and knowing Vasily, he hadn’t just made a point to say he knew where they were. He had probably said much more. “What did he say?” “He said something about my father or … it was a lot and—” “Violet,” Kaz cut her off, his voice a little sharper than he meant it to be, but he needed her to focus. “I need you to tell me what he said. Everything.” “He hinted that my father would be coming to get me, and that, when he did, I needed to be worried about what would happen to you.” Fucking Vasily. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Violet.” “But—” “Trust me. He would put a bullet in my head

long before he ever gave Alberto the honor.” Kaz looked at Konstantin, who was paying rapt attention to their conversation and gave a nod, letting him know that this was what they’d been waiting for. “And he threatened me—that if he had to, he would drag me back to my father himself.” “Don’t—” Kaz had the sudden urge to put his fist through a fucking wall, even as he was trying to remain calm. “That’s not going to happen, Violet. Believe that.” “When are you coming back?” In the time they had been in Chicago, whenever he had left to attend to business with Konstantin, she had never asked that. Perhaps it had been an unspoken rule in her household not to ask questions that wouldn’t be answered, so for her to be asking him this now … it told him exactly how freaked out she was. “I’ll be there within the hour. Just hang tight.” He hung up before she could give an answer, the grip on his phone tightening as he looked at Konstantin. “It’s time to move.”

The leaves could change colors, time could transcend all things, but Vasily Markovic knew that life was a funny thing—which was why he was exiting his car at the crack of dawn and heading for the graveyard a few blocks down. How often had he passed this very one, barely sparing it a glance as he continued, the visual of it fading to the back of his mind, but today, he was forced to view it again … for the same reason he had stepped foot in one all those years ago. From what he could see, Vasily was alone in the graveyard, but one glance at his watch let him

know that he wouldn’t be this way for long. Finding a bench off the pathway, he took a seat, gazing out toward the tombstones a short distance away. What would his say once he was buried? And more, who would mourn? Not his children, he knew. He had loved them and given them the world and anything they could have possibly wanted, yet they still betrayed him at every turn, both publicly and privately. For the longest time, he had forgiven their mistakes and made allowances for things that his own father would have killed him for, but they were not grateful for this. Especially not Kazimir. His youngest son had been his legacy, the person who would carry on their name and would one day sit in Vasily’s seat. He’d spent years grooming him, steering him to become the perfect soldier, but Kazimir had other plans. He rebelled, even when there was nothing to rebel against, simply because he could. It was a trait of his, one that had gone unchecked for years

because Vasily had no mind to worry about such things. Perhaps that was why the blame for Kazimir’s recent actions could be laid at his feet. He should have quelled the boy’s curiosity in the girl back when he still could have. Or at the very least, he should have used a firmer hand with him. But at the moment, he didn’t have time to ponder what should have been—he could only change the present. And if Kazimir thought his actions would go unchecked, perhaps it was time for another lesson. “Your son has certainly caused enough issues, Vasily,” said Alberto Gallucci as he entered the graveyard, his gaze straying to Vasily. “Yet your daughter is at the center of them all,” Vasily said as the man drew closer. “So where does the blame really lie?” Alberto didn’t offer a response to that. “You called me for a meeting, Markovic. Let’s not waste time.” “They’re in Chicago,” Vasily began, not sure

what all the man knew or didn’t, “with former associates of mine.” “Former?” “There was a bit of a misunderstanding.” That was all he was willing to offer. There was no need to tell him that Vasily had tried to have the entirety of the Boykov family executed. “Kazimir reached out to them knowing that should I ever step foot in that city, there is a price on my head.” “Sounds unfortunate … for you.” On any other occasion, the flippant way in which Alberto responded would have made Vasily furious, but for now, he tempered his reaction and forced a smile. “But while my men and I have very familiar faces, yours do not.” Alberto stood a little straighter, and Vasily could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Before he could offer input, Vasily went on. “I have an address. The only thing left is for someone to offer them a ride home.” Whether voluntary or not, if he had to drag Kazimir’s ass back in pieces, he would, and he

wouldn’t like the way it was done. “What you choose to do with your daughter is no business of mine, but should you choose to take them, let no harm come to my son.” He wanted that privilege for himself. “Send me the address. I’ll see it done.” As quickly as Alberto had entered the cemetery, he was ready to leave, but Vasily wasn’t done yet. “Word of caution, comrade. For whatever reason, my son thinks himself in love with your daughter. We took her from him once, but it won’t be so easy again. I don’t doubt for a second that he will kill to keep her, so be prepared to lose a number of your men.” “Yet you still expect no harm to come to that boy of yours.” Vasily glanced down at his hand to the spider that decorated his flesh. “My son won’t see the end of winter.”

From the moment Violet had ended the phone call with Vasily Markovic the week before, she couldn’t shake the nerves putting her on a steep edge. Maybe that was why when a soft knock interrupted the quiet townhouse, Violet damn near jumped out of her skin. No one ever seemed to knock when they visited, instead opting to walk right in. It took Violet a little bit of getting used to, but she had almost come to expect it. Knocking, on the other hand, not so much. When the soft taps became more persistent, Violet decided she didn’t have much of a choice but to answer the door. It wasn’t like the stupid thing would protect her if someone really wanted to get in. Checking through the frosted glass slates of the window, Violet found Maya waiting. She’d shoved her hands into the pockets of her thick winter

jacket, and her head was tipped down as if trying to keep the chill away from her face. Violet didn’t hesitate to pull the door open for the girl. “Hey, Maya.” A wide smile answered her greeting. “Morning.” “Since when do you knock?” “Kolya might have mentioned that it’s rude to just walk in on people,” Maya said. “Might have?” “Yeah, but what the fuck does he know. He doesn’t like anyone, so …” Violet laughed and waved Maya in, closing the door behind her once she was safely out of the cold. “What are you doing here?” Violet asked. “Kaz is … out somewhere.” Again, Violet held back from adding. She knew Kaz was handling things that needed to be handled, but she couldn’t help the impending feeling of dread that often bled its way into her system when he wasn’t around. “I didn’t come to see Kaz,” Maya replied.

“Oh?” “No, I came to see if you wanted to do something—with me, of course.” Maya gave another one of her brilliant, pixie-like smiles. “You don’t even leave this house, and that has to be pretty boring. Why don’t I show you some of the city today?” Violet hesitated, considering the offer. She didn’t want to refuse. She liked Maya and had from the second she met her. The Russian woman was hard not to like, as far as that went. She just wasn’t sure if she should leave the townhouse. Kaz had been clear; Violet wasn’t supposed to leave the townhouse without him. He’d let her know that morning he would be back before noon and that everything was perfectly fine, so she wasn’t to worry. Easier said than done. But she was bored—out of her damn mind, actually. Maya’s offer sounded like it would cure the cabin fever that always settled in whenever Kaz had to leave for something or another.

“I probably shouldn’t,” Violet said. “Laying low and all that.” “Why not? Nothing’s happened. There is no problem. It’s just a drive to see the city; it’s not like you’re going to be splashing your face in front of cameras or something. You’re not as well known here in Chicago as you are in New York.” Violet laughed softly. “You’re really good at this.” “Good at what?” “Convincing people to do what you want.” Maya shrugged, innocence lighting up her features. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Sure. Still, Kaz would probably have a fit.” “Kolya was heading over his way when I left. He said he would let him know, but he figured there was no reason why not. And if my husband is good with it, then Kaz most likely will be, too.” “Why is that?” “You have met Kolya, yes?” Maya asked, all innocence gone. “He finds very little good in anything.” Violet conceded the point. From what little

she had learned about Kolya Boykov, what his wife said made a lot of sense. “Not a long drive, okay? Kaz is coming back by noon.” Maya rocked on her heels, joyful in a blink. “Yes, we can do that. Noon, it is. Let’s go.”

Chicago lived up to its name. The city was large, windy, and cold. But … it wasn’t all that different from New York. “Here,” Maya said, holding out a to-go cup of tea for Violet to take. The cup warmed her hands as she leaned against Maya’s car. Just across the street was the parking lot for one of the city’s parks. With a thick layer of crisp, white snow covering as far as Violet’s eye could see, the city almost looked … peaceful. Even with the people bustling around, the

noise coloring up the cold air, and the unfamiliar streets staring back at her, it was one of the most peaceful sights she had ever seen. Maya smiled around the rim of her cup. “So what do you think?” “I like Chicago,” Violet admitted. Well, she liked it more now. She hadn’t been here before, and for the time she had been in the city, she had spent it hidden away in a townhouse with Kaz. Not that she was complaining because she wasn’t. But she was grateful to see more of the city. “If you overlook the school system and the crime rate, it’s not half bad,” Maya said teasingly. “That’s a little … hypocritical coming from a Boykov, isn’t it?” Violet grinned to let Maya know she was only joking. “Hey, I just married a Boykov. I, myself, have no hand in his business.” Violet pursed her lips, humming, “Mmmhmm.” “I do love Chicago, though. Have you considered it at all?”

“Considered what?” “Staying. With Kaz, I mean.” Violet stilled on the spot, her hot tea burning her tongue when she tipped the cup a little too high. She hadn’t exactly given much thought to staying in Chicago. Kaz hadn’t mentioned it, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it might be one of his many plans. He’d bought a townhouse, after all. Decorated it to make it cozy and comfortable like a home. He seemed more at peace in Chicago than she could remember him being in New York. “I don’t know,” Violet finally said. “You have some time to figure it all out.” Maya took Violet’s words wrong, but she didn’t correct her. Violet didn’t know if that was in Kaz’s plans, but she wasn’t sure it would be in hers. New York was her home—Kaz’s, too. She just wished she could have him there like she had him here. That wasn’t a difficult thing to want. But it was impossible to make it happen. At least the way things were at that moment.

“Twenty to twelve,” Maya said, lifting up her phone for Violet to see. “Should probably get going, yes?” She pulled out the cell phone Kaz had given her and checked for any missed messages or calls. Not surprisingly, there weren’t any. Kaz didn’t play on the phone while he was working … or whatever. “Yeah, we should probably head back to the townhouse,” Violet agreed. Once Violet was inside Maya’s navy blue Mercedes, and the heat was turned on high, she waited as her friend typed in a message on her phone. Almost immediately after she sent the message, Maya’s phone began to ring. She picked it up, speaking Russian and leaving Violet out of the loop. She didn’t mind. Her gaze traveled back out the window, looking down the busy Chicago street. The snowfall and cold didn’t seem to deter the people. They just walked right on through. Out of the many words Maya spoke, Violet did hear a couple that she recognized.

Kolya. Nyet. Ostanovit. Maybe Violet was picking up things here and there. Even if they were just common and easy phrases, it was something. However, guessing by those words, Violet figured the conversation was probably not for her to eavesdrop on, so she turned her head the other way, looking out at the parking lot of the park. She surveyed the few cars parked there, covered by snow. One, in particular, caught her eye. Only because it wasn’t covered in snow at all. For a split second, time slowed as Violet took in the man standing at the back of the black car, wearing a long trench coat and a fedora that kept his eyes shadowed by the brim as he bent his head down. His arms were crossed, and his body language spoke of unease as he turned away from a couple who walked past him. It didn’t matter. Violet had seen his face. All that dread she had been pushing down and ignoring during the morning came thrashing right

back up with a vengeance. “Maya,” Violet said quietly. She was still focused on her call. Violet looked from Maya in the driver’s seat, back to the parking lot across the street. The man was no longer resting on the back of the car but walking around toward the passenger’s door. He looked over his shoulder. Violet caught his eye. There was no mistaking his face—she had grown up seeing it almost every day. He smiled when their gazes met and waved two fingers. Vito Amadori. Her father’s underboss. It seemed her family had found her.

“Perhaps you should lay off the food, brother,” Konstantin said from his spot across the table, eyes

on the newspaper he held. While the brother in question merely glared as he cut into his steak, Kaz paid neither any mind as he sent off a text to his brother for an update. Trying to keep up with Vasily’s movements, covering his own, and trying to maintain business was a constant job, one that was taking over every moment of his life. Even though it was necessary and vital for him to do what he did, Kaz was still beginning to see how it was starting to bleed into his private moments. When he was home, with Violet at his side, his mind still constantly strayed to what he needed to do. She was worried, he could tell, but he could never give her specifics. And that was just another thing that added to the pile of shit he had to deal with. But he was close, so he had to content himself with the knowledge that by the end of it all, it would all be worth it. He just had to make it to the end. “You’ve ordered twice in thirty minutes,”

Konstantin added. Waving his knife in the air, Kolya asked, “What else is there to do in a restaurant? Should I sit and go hungry?” “If it means the rest of the guests here have to, then perhaps you should.” Kolya grumbled something in return, going back to his food. Kaz smiled, his gaze shifting to the front entrance as the doors opened and three men in black entered. Their clothing wasn’t particularly flashy, understated really, but one wore a gold chain around his neck and a gold ring with diamonds on his pinky finger. Kaz had never seen the men before in his life, but the sight of them made him sit up straighter. Fuck. For men like them, one could tell just at a glance whether someone else was a part of this life —just in the way they carried themselves. And from their coloring, and the way their lips curled up when their eyes cut to Kaz, he knew they weren’t friends. As they started across the floor, tension

already crackling in the air the closer they got, their presence was enough to make Konstantin glance over in their direction. Maybe it was because of the city, or the way one of the Italians kept flexing his fists, but some of the guests in the restaurant quickly dropped money on the table and rushed to leave. “A bit rude, gentlemen,” Konstantin called out, dropping his paper on the table, “to show up where you’re not invited.” One man stood just a bit farther in front of the others, the one with the gold chain. He barely offered a sneer in Konstantin’s direction before his sole attention was on Kaz. “Your time is up.” Kaz had known, though he hadn’t wanted to consider the possibility, that his father would reach out to Alberto Gallucci—he had once, a long time ago. The Italians couldn’t have found them otherwise. But hadn’t he planned it that way? He knew his father wouldn’t make a move himself—it would have been suicide—but this … this, he hadn’t expected.

But it was just what he needed. “As fun as this would be,” Kaz said as he got to his feet, “I don’t have the time.” “What the boss wants, the boss gets,” he returned. “And right now, that’s your head on a plate and his daughter back home—whatever it takes.” “I hate to state the obvious, but that’s not going to happen. Now, I’ll do you a favor,” Kaz said meeting the man’s eyes, wanting to make sure he heard his next words. “You turn back around, walk back to whatever shithole you crawled out of, and I won’t break your fucking knees. Stay there and you’ll see just how creative I can get when I’m fucking pissed.” The man smirked, looking far too amused for Kaz’s liking. “Look how easy it was for us to find you. You think we can’t find the boss’ daughter? We have orders, you see. And unlike you, we do what we’re told. So when the boss says to ‘find them and kill anyone with them,’ that’s what we do.” “Sorry?”

Kolya’s voice cut through the air, bringing everyone’s attention to him. Up until that moment, he had continued eating, a napkin tucked into the collar of his shirt like nothing was out of the ordinary, but when the Italian finished speaking, he had stopped, a fork in one hand, a knife in the other. He looked almost confused, as though the man’s words hadn’t made sense. “Tell me again what you said.” “On your right, Kaz,” Konstantin said casually, out of the blue. It took a moment for the Italian to focus his attention on Kolya, but when he did—and probably sized him up for the first time—he lost that playful edge to his words, as though he needed to make sure Kolya understood he wasn’t to be fucked with. “Who the fuck are you?” Setting down his fork and knife, Kolya picked up his beer bottle, one that had been left untouched since the moment it was set down in front of him. He seemed to be studying the label for a moment

before wrapping his fingers around the neck of it as he pointed at himself. “Me? Fuck me, I’m not important. Repeat what you said—your orders.” “Find them,” the Italian said, not realizing the danger he was in. “And kill anyone with—” He didn’t get to finish the statement before Kolya was lunging across the table, shattering the bottle on top of the man’s head, and then dragged him back by the collar to slam his face into the table. Kaz had quickly understood what Konstantin meant as he swung on the man to the right, even as the man tried to draw the weapon at his waist. Minutes at most passed before each of the Italians was on the ground, all except for the one Kolya still had a hold of. “There are lessons to be learned here,” Konstantin said to the man who was bleeding profusely from both his nose and mouth. “Never threaten a man’s wife.” Kolya slammed his head once more before letting the man drop to the floor in a lump. Kaz wasn’t even sure the man was still breathing.

“These Italians,” Kolya tsked as he fished money out of his wallet, sighing as he pulled out more than a few hundred-dollar bills. “I thought there was respect for one’s wife. Animals, the lot of them.” There was no way the Italian who’d done all the talking could have known that it was Maya with Violet and not just one of Kaz’s people, but in Kolya’s head, that hadn’t mattered. Fucking crazy. “It seems you have visitors,” Konstantin said as he pulled out his phone and called a number, asking for a sweeper—whatever that was—before hanging up once more. “Your timetable has to move up. When do you want us to make the move?” “Tonight.” But before he did, he had to check on Violet. He didn’t have a missed call from her, but he knew, just as the Italian had said, that it was only a matter of time before they found her too. He just hoped he found her first.

A faint whisper of relief washed through Violet when a familiar contact lit up her phone. Almost at the exact same time as she answered her call from Kaz, Maya’s phone began ringing in the middle console. Violet tried to focus on her own call and not Maya’s when she connected it to the Bluetooth, and Kolya’s dark voice echoed through the car’s speakers. “Where are you?” Violet blinked. The question had come from both calls.

Violet answered Kaz one way; Maya answered Kolya with an actual place. “With Maya,” Violet said. “Coming out from the Heights, Kolya.” “And you’re … okay,” Kaz said quietly. “We’ve got a problem,” Kolya said. Violet wasn’t sure whether she should be amused or irritated by the situation. Kaz was the type to keep Violet calm until he had her close and could explain whatever was going on. Apparently, Kolya was not. Violet decided to cut the bullshit. “I saw Vito —my father’s underboss—about five minutes ago.” Kaz swore severely on the other end of the call. “Did he approach you?” “No.” “He’s going to try,” Kaz said, surprising Violet at how frank and clinical his words came out. “We are about twenty minutes out from your spot—” His words cut off for a second, and mumbling sounded in the background before he was back. “Fifteen with the way Konstantin drives like a fucking maniac.”

All Violet could think to ask was, “Where’s the Porsche?” “Too many cars right now,” Kaz explained. “Fewer are better.” “Kolya?” Maya’s soft question drew Violet’s attention from her own phone call to her friend’s face. “Da, dushka,” Kolya replied, less gruff than before. “I’m almost there, yeah?” “I know,” Maya replied, glancing into the rearview mirror and then hitting the gas a little bit harder. “Drive faster, okay?” “It’s to the floor, Maya.” “Put it to the pavement, Kolya.” She looked in the rearview again. Violet wondered what the fuck she was looking at, only to find a familiar black car following behind them with windows tinted so dark, she couldn’t see through the fucking windshield. Shit. “Violet?” Kaz asked. She passed Maya a look, who seemed a great

deal calmer about the situation given their current circumstances. Violet wasn’t quite sure what to do—whether she should take Maya’s lead and keep quiet that they had someone on their ass or tell Kaz what was happening. “This is why I can’t let you out of my fucking sight,” Kolya muttered. Maya laughed lightly. “You worry for nothing. We’re fine.” Violet had a realization then. Maybe it wasn’t a matter of keeping the situation calm until they were in better circumstances, but rather, the way different men handled the same situation. “Kaz,” Violet said quietly, hoping whatever Maya was telling Kolya at that moment would override her low tone, “Vito is behind us.” Kaz relayed that information to whom Violet suspected was Konstantin. “Ten minutes,” Kaz said. “Don’t hang up the phone. Don’t open the door if they force you to stop. Don’t say a thing if they get you out of the car.

Understood?” “Yeah,” Violet said, her anxiety climbing higher, “I got it, Kaz.” Beside her, Maya cussed in a hiss, shooting another look into the mirror. Violet glanced through the back window to find the black car was mere inches from their back bumper. While they’d hit the highway, Violet didn’t think the roads were good enough for this kind of fast driving. “What was that?” Kolya asked. “I broke a fucking nail when I shifted into last gear,” Maya snapped. Kolya went deadly silent. Out of the corner of her eye, Violet watched Maya frown and glance down at her fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. Her nails, natural and clipped short, were fine. “Where are you now?” Kolya finally asked. Maya rattled off a location. “Next exit is in two miles,” Kolya said. “Take it and hit the safe house.”

“Kolya—” “I watched you take your nails off last night,” he said quietly. “They’re too short to break. You really shouldn’t lie to me, dushka. Hit the safe house.” The call clicked off, and Violet’s grip on her phone tightened. “Is that Kaz?” Maya asked, never taking her eyes off the road. “Yeah,” Violet replied. “Can I have the phone, please?” Violet handed it over without asking why Maya wanted it. “Kaz,” Maya said, her usual cheeriness gone as she spoke, “let Konstantin know that if he’s behind Kolya, he should probably pick up the fucking pace.” With that, she handed the phone back to Violet. “Sit tight and hold on to something,” Maya said, “I don’t have time to slow down for this exit with the way he’s on my ass right now.” “Everything is fine,” Kaz said, his dark tenor calming Violet’s frayed nerves.

“Is it?” she asked. “It will be.” That was the last thing Violet heard him say before Maya was taking the curving exit ramp fast. Right behind them, the black car followed. Just as their car hit the sharpest point of the turn, Violet felt the hit. It lurched their car forward with enough force to send the back end spinning sideways. The surprise tap from the black car scared the fucking hell out of Violet, and she dropped the phone to the floor. Her heart found her throat as Maya somehow managed to keep the fucking vehicle from falling into a total spin, and then corrected it so they were straight again and coming out of the ramp into a more residential area. Violet wanted to grab the phone, but she would have to take her seat belt off, and given that they had just been hit from behind, she seriously believed it could happen again. She did not need to be unbuckled when that happened. But the phone call was still connected. That she could see.

That was all Kaz asked for. Violet’s gaze snapped back and forth between the phone on the floor, the road in front of them, and the car driving way too close to their ass end. Maya never once took her eyes off the road as she took turn after turn, weaving through street after street. They passed neighborhoods and apartment complexes. A schoolyard with children playing safely behind a chain link fence. “Almost,” Maya murmured, more to herself it seemed. The black car wasn’t giving up, apparently. It didn’t matter how fast Maya drove or the many streets she took in what seemed like an effort to confuse their pursuers, the car behind them never faltered. Violet knew at least one person in the car was Vito. She wondered who else was with him. Was it someone who knew these streets like Maya did?

Someone who knew Chicago? Another minute passed, and Violet realized they were in an area a lot less dense with houses than it had been. More trees, more space between homes, and more privacy. “How far behind us do you think they are?” Violet asked. Maya didn’t even ask who she meant. “Kaz and Konstantin? About five minutes. And they’re not coming from behind.” “And Kolya?” She didn’t answer, her gaze cutting from Violet’s face to the road ahead of them before she jerked the wheel hard to the side, taking them off the road and onto the large patch of gravel. Violet blinked and took a hard breath at the sight of a black Hummer coming straight at them. Except it bypassed them. Even as Maya hit the brakes, and the tires slid and screeched on snow and gravel, she still heard the smash of metal as the Hummer hit the black car head-on.

“For fuck’s sake.” The curse was out of Kaz’s mouth as they drove up to the scene in front of them. A totaled car sat in the middle of the road, while Kolya’s Hummer was some feet away with barely a scratch. As Konstantin rolled to a stop, Kaz could better see that Violet and Maya were safe from the wreckage. They were barely out of the car when Kolya threw his door open. The man came stumbling out, his eyes going back to his wife first, and then turning on the car he had practically turned into a pretzel. His intent was clear as he walked right up to the car, forcing the door open on the driver’s side. With a knife, he cut through the seat belt then dragged the man from the wreck. But he didn’t stop, not until they were further out of sight. Fucking hell.

“Kaz!” He heard his name a moment before Violet came barreling into him—a moment before the first scream of pain rent the air. “Don’t worry,” Konstantin said to Maya as he glanced back to where his brother had gone with his prey. “He won’t be long.” That was up for debate. It seemed there was no off button for Kolya when it came to Maya. “How did they find us?” Violet’s question brought him back to the present, his attention now on her. He had planned to tell her later when they were back at home and he had a chance to think about what he was going to say and how he would say it. But he was out of time, and there was no easy way for him to explain this. “Vasily reached out to Alberto.” Violet looked horrified, as though the thought wasn’t even plausible. “Why would he do that?” She probably thought, as he had, that Vasily would never seek the aid of someone like their father, if only because they were enemies. There

was no doubt she had grown up hearing the disdain for the Russians from her family, so it wouldn’t make sense for him to ask a favor of a man he hated. “Because he can’t show his face here. There’s no issue with the Italians here.” “Yet,” Konstantin called out. There was genuine worry in her eyes, now more than usual, but he couldn’t get her mind off that, not when she was still standing next to the proof of just how close her father had gotten. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” Kaz looked at Konstantin—who was already nodding. “We can take care of this. Maya will go with you.” “But—” Maya protested, still looking at where her husband had gone. “You know he doesn’t like you to see this,” Konstantin said, a little firmer. “I’ll make sure he calls as soon as we’re done.” Reluctantly, Maya nodded. “You always do. Be careful, Kon—and make sure he doesn’t go too far.”

There was a warning in her tone, a story only the pair of them knew, but Konstantin nodded and headed to the mangled car. There was another person in the passenger seat, his face bloody as he hung helplessly. Konstantin didn’t cut him out immediately; he merely crouched down so they were nearly eye level and pulled out a cigarette to fit between his lips. No, Konstantin was in no rush at all. With his arm around Violet, and Maya walking just ahead of them, Kaz walked them to the car.

Violet’s head snapped up at the sound of screeching tires coming from outside of the townhouse. The shower upstairs didn’t turn off as the front door was opened and then slammed shut, a familiar voice ringing out. “Maya!” On the loveseat in the corner, Maya pushed up

from her seat just as Kolya stormed into the living room, his gaze sharp, dark, and a little … crazy, even. Wild might have been more appropriate. Violet wasn’t quite sure she had ever seen someone look so out of their fucking mind while at the same time, managing to maintain an outward composure. She wondered what kind of man Kolya was in his mind to have that sort of control. The second his gaze landed on Maya, Kolya softened a bit in his stance, but barely. He didn’t even pass Violet a look as he said, “Go.” Maya gave Violet a small smile. “It’s all right. He doesn’t have manners, but he meant to say please, too.” Violet put her hand up, waving it all off as she got up from the couch and strolled past Kolya, making her way toward the kitchen. He didn’t look at her as she passed, either. He was far too focused on his wife, not that Violet minded. She hesitated in her steps when the voices echoed from back in the living room.

“Why lie?” Kolya asked. “Because look at how you reacted, Kolya.” “Because you lied.” “Wrong,” Maya said. “No, I’m right. I reacted the same way I would have.” “I was fine.” “You were—” “Fine, Kolya.” Maya sighed loudly. “I was doing exactly what I needed. I had it under control, and you would have gotten there in plenty of time.” “I saw the marks on the back of your bumper. You’re placating me—he is already dead. It’s pointless to lie in the hopes of keeping me from going back to the bastard driving. He is dead.” Violet swallowed hard, ignoring the sliver of ice crawling up her spine. “You always do this, Kolya. You go crazy, and there’s no calming you—no helping you. You would have gotten there in plenty of time.” “I did,” Kolya replied. “And look how it turned out, no?” Violet decided to keep walking, but the

conversation continued behind her. She could still hear them talking even as she opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. Drinking might calm her nerves, but who could say. “There’s no switch for you, Kolya,” Maya continued. Violet caught sight of Kaz coming to stand in the kitchen entryway. Shirtless, with just a pair of cotton sleep pants on and his hair still damp, he watched her with his arms crossed as she searched for a wine glass. Kaz acted like there wasn’t a private conversation going on—she figured he probably had a better idea of what was going on than she did. “No switch,” Maya continued, “where I’m concerned.” “There is,” Kolya shot back. “You are the fucking switch. I shut off—that’s it. When someone hits that switch, I have no care. You know this, dushka.” “But—”

“Because you are,” Kolya interrupted quieter. “My dushka—my soul, Maya. I turn off. I’m not sorry for that.” Eventually, the conversation died down, and Violet heard footsteps a second before Kaz glanced over his shoulder with a frown and a nod. Shortly after that, the front door closed. The silence practically echoed as Violet lifted a full glass of wine to her lips. “Eventful day,” she mumbled around the rim. Heady, red wine covered her tongue, but it didn’t help the anxiety. “I know,” Kaz murmured. “But everything turned out fine—the message that was sent ended up being a massive failure on your father’s part.” “But he’ll try again.” Kaz’s jaw ticked. “Likely.” Or maybe Vasily would. Violet chose not to ask. “Do we leave now?” she asked. “Run, you mean?” “Do we?” Kaz pushed away from the entryway and

strolled farther into the kitchen. “We didn’t run in the first place. I never intended to hide where we were.” Huh. “This was only a matter of time,” he added. “They came a little too close, Kaz.” He came to stand behind her, placing his palms flat on the island counter on either side of her body. For a long while, he just stayed there, letting her sip her wine while he said nothing. Violet hadn’t realized it, but she’d needed that. As simple as it was, it calmed her as nothing else could. He calmed her. “Don’t take it personally if Maya stays away for a bit,” Kaz said, his words whispering along the back of her neck as his lips brushed her skin. “Why?” She found it was easier to talk if she focused on his words and not the heat traveling through her blood. “Because Kolya is … well, he’s a little insane where Maya is concerned,” Kaz explained. “It’s better to just let him do what he needs to do to get

back to his normal, nasty self.” “All right.” “You’re taking this all well, hmm?” Violet took another sip of wine, unsure of what he wanted her to say. “It scared me.” “I’m sorry.” “But the thought of being dragged back to my father scared me a hell of a lot more. I’m not a possession, but he thinks that I am.” “You’re not going back to him.” Violet let out a soft breath. “Don’t make promises, Kaz. At least not ones we don’t know if you can keep.” “I’ll keep this promise—even if it kills me, krasivaya.”

Kaz watched as Violet brushed by him, but instead of heading up to their bedroom, she went to the living room. One delicate hand held the wine

glass, but his gaze had strayed down from it to the curve of her hip, swaying just enough to get his attention every time. His thoughts should have been on Vasily or even Alberto since he had been bold enough to send his men in Boykov territory, but the second his gaze strayed to the bare skin of her midsection where her shirt didn’t quite cover, he didn’t want to think of anything else but her. Pushing off the wall, Kaz crossed the floor in a few long strides, catching her around the waist before she could sit. Instead, he drew her down over the top of him, her legs on either side of him. Plucking the glass from her hand, he set it on the floor beside them. “Kaz—” It still baffled him sometimes … the way he felt when his name fell from her lips. Maybe because, even when it was innocent, he could still hear the way she moaned it when he was fucking her. He lived for that sound, and though it had only been days, he already missed the sound of it.

Before she could finish whatever she thought to say, his fingers had drifted from her waist until they spanned out over her throat. And there it was … That slight hitch in her breath as he pressed just a bit harder. The way her lips parted … Outside their bedroom, she was fragile to him, someone he wanted to protect, but here, when he had her beneath his hands, he wanted to see how much she could take before she broke. Pulling her toward him, he didn’t kiss her lips but ran his lips along her jaw, feeling her skin heat up as he bit at the cord in her neck. She arched into him, but he held her exactly how he wanted, dragging the straps of her top and bra off her shoulder and pushing the material down until he could get her breast in his hand, her nipple between his fingers as he squeezed. A sharp, needy sound tore from her, her hips grinding further into his erection. He could practically feel how hot her pussy was beneath those shorts she wore, and he was dangerously close to ripping the fucking things off just so he

could get in there, but he reined it in, contented with the process. Releasing his hold on her, he drew back just far enough to drag the shirt over her head and unsnap her bra. His hands full, he didn’t hesitate to kiss her now. Even as he drew her bottom lip into his mouth, pulling at it, the answering whine made his dick ache. One hand curled around her neck to keep her in place as his other pushed its way into her panties and down to her begging, slippery flesh. Fuck, she was already shaking, and he hadn’t even touched her properly. How easy it would be to get her off right then … “Do you want to come, krasivaya?” He asked the question against her mouth, her lips parting with a gasp. She was trying to concentrate, he knew, seeking out his fingers to give her more, but he didn’t give in. Not yet. “I need an answer.” Violet nodded, but as quickly as she did, she answered him with a quick yes, knowing his rule on needing to hear her. “Then do something for me, hmm?”

“Anything …” “Get on your knees.” There was no hesitation on her part, no questioning glances as she merely pulled free of him and slowly moved to her knees between his, looking up at him expectantly. He fucking loved that look on her face. She knew what he wanted without him having to ask. Shoving his pants to his ankles, Kaz fisted his cock, nodding for her to put her mouth on it. And when she wrapped her lips around of it, taking more of his length into her mouth, his head fell back, his hand drifting to curl in her hair. At first, he guided her movements, pushing her mouth down slowly then pulling her up, making a moan vibrate his cock with how rough he handled her. There was never a need to instruct her on how best to suck him because the moment he growled, “Take my cock,” she did just that. His entire body was vibrating with the need to come, but more than that was the need to hear her scream.

Yanking her off his cock, he was pulling her back over him in the next second. Her breath left her in a rush, but her need was as great as his was as he grabbed the base of his cock and lined it up with her slit. But even as he felt like he was about to split apart if he didn’t get inside her, she didn’t do what he wanted. No, she dragged it over her pussy, smearing her juices all over his cock, and just when he thought he was about to go mindless, she finally sank down on him achingly slow, her head falling back as she did. Her pussy felt like a fucking vise around him, so fucking tight it felt like the first time all over again. He gave her a moment, letting her get used to his size before he had his hands curled around the curve of her hips, but he didn’t move yet. “Look at me.” Her eyes opened, the pupils blown, even as she did as he asked, her hands going to his shoulders, her nails digging in. That pouty bottom lip of hers was red and inviting, and had it not

been between those teeth of hers, it would have been between his. “Kaz,” she whispered his name like a promise even as she moved her hips, dragging her pussy up and down his cock. Violet fell into a slow rhythm, one that made his hands tighten on her body. That wasn’t good enough for him. He wanted her mindless—he wanted her fucking begging him to fuck her harder. He knew what she needed better than she even did. Wrapping his fist in her hair, he tugged her forward until he was just an inch from her mouth. “Are you going to come on my cock, Violet? Is that what you want?” She couldn’t give him the response he wanted, not when she could barely catch her breath, each one hitching in her throat. “You come so fucking easily, don’t you? God, fuck yourself on my cock.” Kaz didn’t really need to tell her, not with the way her hips shifted forward, all rhythm lost as she chased an orgasm only he could give her.

Those fucking moans … the way she lost her breath between pleas—he was about to fucking explode. But before he lost himself in the sensation, he splayed a hand over her stomach, dragging it down until he could get his thumb against her clit and rub. He didn’t make her beg for this one because she was too close to the fucking edge. When she finally broke apart, his name echoing off the walls, whatever thin thread of control he had left snapped. Jerking her beneath him, keeping her legs tight around his waist, he shoved his hips forward, and a breath exploded from him as he began to fuck her harder; the hands he had grasping her thighs squeezed so tight, he knew there would be bruises. That first shuddering wave of her coming had nearly forced his to the surface, but he had managed to drag it back. But now, as he felt her pussy clamping tightly around him again, he didn’t fight it. He gave himself over to it, thrusting hard before emptying inside her.

As his senses came back, and he became aware of the droplets of sweat dripping down his back, he felt at ease in a way he hadn’t felt in a while. Three days to be exact. Kissing the corner of her mouth, he said, “Once a day from now on, hmm?” Her answering smile made him chuckle, but when she said, “Twice a day and I’m yours,” it made his cock jerk all over again.

Violet sank a little deeper under the hot, bubbly water. With her eyes closed, the vanilla scented bubble bath soaked into her senses, relaxing her further. Happiness chased bliss through her bloodstream. From the side, she heard Kaz chuckle. Violet didn’t even open her eyes as she asked, “What are you laughing about?” “You—smiling for no particular reason.” “I’m smiling because I’m happy.” “Ah, I see.” His palm curved her jaw, his

thumb sweeping her cheekbone. She tilted her head, letting it rest in his hand. “That is a good reason to smile then.” “I thought so.” “Are you almost ready to get out?” he asked. Violet hummed a soft, “No.” Kaz’s amused chuckles echoed in the bathroom all over again. “You’re going to be a prune, Violet.” “So?” Maybe she had been in the bath for a little while. But maybe Kaz had been encouraging her with the way he kept draining the water and putting more bubbles in when he refilled it. In a way, it was sort of his fault. “Krasivaya …” “Hmm?” she asked, smiling when she felt his thumb stroke closer to the corner of her mouth. “If you get out now, we can order from that place you like before they close at midnight. Late supper.” “Not hungry.”

“Liar.” Violet gave his palm a kiss and then settled her cheek back into his hand. “I’m not, honestly. You should stop worrying about me. I know that’s what you’re doing. Right now, I am happy, Kaz. I am fine. Everything is …” Great. Perfect. Wonderful. “As it should be,” Violet settled on saying. When she was with Kaz, everything was always exactly as it should be. “I won’t deny the worrying,” Kaz murmured, “but, perhaps, I’d like to have you out of the bath, dried, and underneath me again. You did say twice a day, no?” Violet opened her mouth to respond, but her words failed when she heard the gentle splash of his hand as it dipped below the water and landed right between her thighs. Her air caught hard in her chest when his other hand moved from her cheek to high on her throat, his thumb pressing against her lips.

Her eyes flew wide open as his fingers stroked her under the water, two pressing deep, curling upward in just the right spot while his thumb flicked up to press hard against her sensitive clit. Slow. Steady. Insistent. Knowingly. The pad of Kaz’s thumb muffled Violet’s moan as she found him watching her, so interested, always curious. It was almost as if he loved to watch all the sounds fall from her lips. Like it was his favorite thing next to making her scream. Kaz arched a single brow, his lips curving into a smirk as he watched her. Violet’s movements were involuntary—she pushed her hips into his hand with every thrust, making the water slosh around the sides of the tub. “You’re beautiful when you come, Violet,” he said quietly. He was, too. She didn't think he realized it, but he was the

most natural at that moment. She loved it. “Come on, give it to me, and then I can get you in bed like I want you,” Kaz said. Violet’s teeth caught her bottom lip as the first sparks of bliss started dancing across her skin. Kaz wasn’t having that, as his thumb pulled her lip free and then swept over the wet, red flesh. “I might even let you get on your knees again and watch you lick me clean, Violet …” Another stroke of his fingers, dragging across that spot again and he was making her see stars, his words dark and heady in her ear, and his thumb sinking into her mouth, promising to fill it, too … and she was gone. Violet felt his hand leave her throat and wind up in the hair that she had piled on the top of her head. Kaz pulled her head to the side as she shook and panted her way through an orgasm that seemed to sweep over her slowly, and he leaned over the side of the tub to kiss her hard. The cloying sensations weren’t even gone entirely before he was pulling away, his hands

leaving her body and her hair. He hit the plug, making the water drain, and reached behind him for the towel he already had waiting there. Violet would have helped—stood up, dried herself, or something. Kaz pulled her out of the water without a word, setting her on the edge of the tub with the towel ready. He kissed her again, softer the second time, and his mouth didn’t leave hers as he ran the towel over her trembling form. She wasn’t cold. That wasn't why she shook. She was hot as hell, and his tender actions only made it better. Once Kaz was apparently satisfied that Violet was dry enough, he tossed the towel to the side and scooped her up into his embrace again. For the distance between the master bath and the bed in the attached bedroom, he crossed it quickly. Violet’s back hit the middle of the bed, and she had just caught sight of Kaz fisting his boxerbriefs and shoving them down before his knees hit the bed and he was moving toward her. His hands met her thighs, spreading her wide enough that her

muscles protested, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care when his head dipped down, and his mouth found her sex. Her thoughts were gone—just like that. The strike of his tongue. The nip of his teeth. The pressure of his fingers digging into her legs. He teased her right back to the edge of that cliff with his tongue, and then he was pulling her back from it as he lifted his head, shot her a grin, and started kissing a burning path from her pubic bone to the underside of her jaw. “Next time,” he promised in her ear. “Next time, I’ll make you shake and scream over and over with just my mouth, hmm? Not right now, though.” Violet’s hands uncurled from the blankets she’d grabbed, one tangling into Kaz’s hair and the other raking down the tattoos on his chest. She loved the way his muscles jumped under her touch, but he never gave a thing away. His expression never changed from that sexy smirk and intense

gray stare. “We’re fine,” she told him. Violet wasn't even sure why she said it—he hadn’t asked. She thought that maybe, he needed to hear it. From her. Again. Not just that she was fine, regardless of what had happened, or what was yet to come, but that they were perfectly fine. Still just Violet and Kaz. “Fine,” he echoed above her. Violet felt his hand between their bodies as he readjusted his cock to line up with her wet slit. He dropped down to his elbows, his lips ghosting over her chin and jaw just a breath’s worth of time before he grabbed her hip and thrust forward. Maybe it was their earlier fucking, and then the orgasm she’d just had, but she felt sensitive to the touch, and it was overwhelming. It didn’t hurt, but she felt every inch of him as he filled her. Kaz let out a low curse, his head falling

forward to rest against her chest. She could feel it in the muscles of his back—how he strained to keep still for just that brief moment. Violet didn’t need or want him to be still. “Fuck me,” she whispered, tugging on the strands of his hair. Kaz’s grin grew against her skin. “Wait a second, krasivaya.” She dragged her nails down across his shoulder. He sucked in a hiss of air. Apparently, that was all he needed. Violet arched off the bed as Kaz pulled out, and just as fast, he pushed right back in, the force moving them farther up the bed. His arm wrapped around her back, holding tight. She barely got his name out of her mouth before his teeth found the cord in her neck and bit down hard enough to leave one of his marks behind. Another one, she knew. He just kept adding more. But Violet really didn’t mind.

Every pull came faster, and every stroke came deeper. Through the haze, she heard him say, “Love you.” Violet figured the rest really didn’t matter as long as he kept saying those words. “Love you.”

Nothing captured one’s attention quite like the sight of a man hanging from the ceiling by his ankles, but as Kaz entered the warehouse—Kolya had texted him an address nearly an hour ago—his gaze immediately went to the Italian from the car wreck as he swung like a pendulum. Though a cloth was stuffed in his mouth, he screamed what sounded like a plea the moment his wild gaze locked on Kaz, but the words were lost beneath his gag. “I think he’s trying to say something,”

Konstantin said from his spot in a chair across the room, gesturing at the man with his cigarette. “Then he can wait.” “What’s the fucking point if we can’t hear them speak?” Konstantin asked, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Then we’re torturing—at least torturing whatever the hell is left of him—just to do it.” “That’s because you lack patience. Sure, you can get a man to tell you things before you start— but who fucking knows how legit that information is. No, you get a little of the torture out of the way”—Kolya punctuated this by picking up a scalpel, and running the sharpened blade over the man’s stomach, red welling in its wake— “and he’ll tell you everything he knows.” Ripping the man’s gag out, Kolya tossed the cloth on the table and took a step back, folding massive arms across his chest as he glared over at Kaz. “About fucking time. I’m sure we would all like to be buried in pussy, yet here we are. Waiting on you.” “Then learn not to yell at your wife.” Kaz had expected Kolya to lash out, but the

man merely shrugged, as if to say fair enough. Turning his attention to the Italian, Kaz asked, “Who is he?” “Vito, he said—or whatever the fuck. By the time I got a name out of him, he was barely conscious.” Shrugging out of his jacket, Kaz tossed the material on a chair as he crossed the distance to Vito, laying a hand on the man’s leg to keep him from swinging further. “Here’s the thing, Vito,” Kaz said, “You can’t tell me anything I don’t already know. I know Alberto sent you here. I know why he did it. So what’s stopping me from giving you over to my friend here?” Vito’s mouth opened as he attempted to speak, but blood spurted from his mouth as he coughed, trying to clear his airway. “Take your time,” Konstantin called out from the other side of the room. “T-There was a m-meeting between Vasily and the boss.” That was something Kaz had already figured.

“Go on.” “He gave us y-your location.” Still, not something he didn’t already know, but the man looked like he was about ready to pass out. Before he could, Kaz snatched the bottle of water from Kolya’s hand, splashing the man in the face. “Pay attention.” Tapping his cheek a few times, Kaz forced his attention on him. “I already know that. Give me something I don’t.” Kaz had assumed he would have more time, give him a chance to find dirt on Vasily another way—particularly through the men who worked for him. Some were loyal to a fault, but others didn’t blindly follow Vasily, especially since he had taken Gavrill’s seat. He hadn’t accounted for how quickly the Italians would find them. But this could work for him … depending on just how much Vito knew. He could see it in the man’s eyes, that reluctance to spill secrets he had probably kept for years. But he also knew he was going to die, and

holding someone’s confidence meant nothing once you were in the ground. “They’ve met … before.” Now, they were getting somewhere. “Continue.” “Back when the war was at its peak … Word was the boss wanted to have a meeting with yours, but Gavrill ignored the invitation. Vasily answered it instead.” That much Kaz could remember. Even with how crazy that time had been, he still recalled the cemetery with Violet at his side and how important Vasily had told him that meeting was. “They made a deal,” Vito said in a rush. “Vasily wanted the boss’ chair. Alberto wanted the fighting to stop. They agreed that Vasily would set it up, and Alberto would do the rest. As long as we avoided each other in the future, there was no need for retaliation.” Fucking hell. Vasily had done it, but what Kaz was learning now was that it wasn’t just ammunition to use against his father. This information was enough to get the man killed.

And it explained why he never wanted the truth to come out. “Gavrill was walking with that wife of his, but she had gone into a shop. He never saw it coming.” “You were there then, no?” Vito, realizing too late just how much he had revealed, stumbled over his next words. But there was no point, not when Kaz had everything he needed to know now. Before he could think of something useful to say, Kaz asked, “What was his name—the man who pulled the trigger?” “I don’t—” Digging his finger into one of the cuts in Vito’s side, he waited until the man’s screaming finally died off before he said, “I won’t repeat myself.” “Christian.” Kaz pulled his finger free, wanting clarification. “And he is the one who killed my uncle?” Letting his head drop, Vito whispered, “Yes.” “Good man.” Patting the man on the stomach,

he took a step back. “I have a gift for you, Vito. Kolya is going to release you and let you go.” Even though he had yet to be asked, Kolya grabbed the remote, turning a dial that brought the machine to life and eased Vito to the floor. Grabbing his own cigarette from a pack, Kaz put it between his lips and flicked the lighter, watching the flame dance. As he took in a lungful, the nicotine burned straight through his lungs. “You make it through those doors, and no one will stop you.” Vito could barely stand as Kolya cut him free, but his eyes were wild and aware, focused on them so intently that he had yet to see which exit Kaz meant. But he wasted no time moving toward one, though he never turned his back, afraid of what might be done if he did. But very soon, self-preservation kicked in, and Vito was stumbling over himself to get away. He only got so far before Kaz took one last drag from his cigarette and dropped it on the ground … Mere feet before Kaz reached for the gun at his waist, raising it until he could see Vito at the

end of it, and fired, watching the man’s leg give out as the bullet shredded the muscle of his thigh. “Don’t stop now,” Kaz said as he started across the floor, his eyes set on the man holding his bleeding wound. “Just a few feet, suka.” With a cry of pain, Vito used his other arm, trying his damnedest to drag himself across the concrete floor while leaving a streak of blood in his wake. Kaz wasn’t cruel. He allowed the man another few inches before he aimed and fired again, this time in his other leg. “This can’t be any worse than what was done to Gavrill, no?” Kaz asked over the man’s shouts, unmoved by his tears. “And see, what you don’t know is that my brother was the one to find the body—a child.” Kaz only remembered pieces, just brief flashes of days and times, but this one … this one stuck with him over the years, branding itself on Kaz’s conscience. He could still remember the way Rus had stopped speaking for forty-eight hours after he found him after coming out of the

ice-cream shop he had gone in with his aunt. Kaz still wasn’t sure what all Rus had seen that fateful day when he had gone off to their uncle’s, only to return with his hands stained red, his eyes wide with horror, even as Vasily stood at his back with his hands on his shoulders. The only reason Kaz even had an idea of how bad it had been was because he had gone to his father with questions years later—Ruslan still, to this day, refused to speak of it. Vito raised bloody hands. “Mercy.” Shaking his head, Kaz used his foot to roll the man over onto his back. “Ask whoever you see on the other side—I have none.” His head hit the ground hard as the round plugged into his forehead, his body gone limp. “Looks like I’ll be going home a little early,” Kaz said as he faced the brothers. “It’s only a matter of time before word gets back to Vasily that this first batch didn’t make it home.” And when he did, Kaz didn’t doubt that Vasily would know exactly what Kaz’s next move would be.

Violet could smell the coffee from the top of the stairs, and it smelled like heaven brewing. She didn’t think it odd that Kaz was brewing a pot of coffee instead of just making the instant blend as he usually did because she was just happy he was making her coffee. She skidded to a stop in the kitchen entryway at the sight of the man sitting at the island, a newspaper in one hand, an unlit cigarette twirling between the fingers of his other, and two cups of coffee waiting in front of him. Konstantin. Of the two Boykov brothers, Violet liked Konstantin better. If only because the man seemed more approachable, although he was a little strange sometimes. She also hadn’t seen Konstantin around nearly as much as Kolya was, but she blamed that on Maya coming over to the

townhouse. Her husband usually just followed, scowl always in place. Konstantin, however, was almost a stranger to Violet. Yet she did like him a little bit more than she did his brother. “You make a habit of this, I see,” Konstantin said, never taking his eyes off whatever he was reading in the newspaper. Violet didn’t have the first clue what he was talking about. “Pardon?” He waved a hand, gesturing at her. “I’m going to assume you sleep with nothing on when you come down in the mornings wearing … that.” She glanced down at the white T-shirt she had on, realizing what he meant. Embarrassment heated her cheeks as she said, “Don’t start, Konstantin.” The man was already grinning. “Coffee will still be hot. I’m doing the right thing by reading and not looking at you. Get dressed.” Violet cursed her way back upstairs and found something more suitable to wear. She didn’t have a great selection, though, as she hadn’t been given

much time to go out and shop for clothes. She only had what she’d brought with her. And so what if she liked Kaz’s clothes? Once Violet was back down in the kitchen, she silently glared at Konstantin as he slid her coffee across the island toward her. “Is this a thing?” she asked. Konstantin raised a single brow high. “A thing?” “A Russian thing or something.” Violet almost smiled at the look of confusion passing over Konstantin’s features. “It seems like none of you ever knock. You all just come right in and make yourself at home. And where is Kaz?” “For one thing, no, it is not a Russkaya thing, as you said. It’s a Boykov thing,” he said, a sly smile tilting the corner of his mouth upward. “We’re very … personable people.” “Or you like inserting yourself into other people’s spaces.” Violet was only teasing, and guessing by the amusement in Konstantin’s gaze, he knew it, too. “Personable, a nuisance—same thing, no?”

“You and I have two different ideas of what being personable means,” she said. Konstantin only shrugged, picking the newspaper back up. “Perhaps if you dressed when you woke up, you wouldn’t be put in these sorts of situations, yes?” Violet knew he was just trying to get a reaction out of her, as it seemed Konstantin liked to do that with people—especially those he was friendly or close with. But she wasn’t so stupid of a girl that she didn’t recognize what else he had done. He hadn’t answered her question about Kaz’s whereabouts. “You must think I’m an easily distracted, simple Italian girl, huh?” Violet asked before lifting her coffee for a sip. Konstantin’s attention never wavered from the paper. “Tell me, Violet, what was it like growing up in a Cosa Nostra family?” What did that have to do with anything? Still, she answered. “Suffocating.” He dropped the paper just an inch. “That is an

… interesting word to use. Why?” “I didn’t realize it as I grew up, but now that I can look back at it all from the outside, it’s a lot clearer to me. It’s all about being groomed, from the clothes I wore to the way I did my hair. My behavior, my attitude, my image. Everything was checked, rechecked, and constantly monitored. That’s suffocating when you’re never really making choices for you but for your family.” “What makes you think being with a Bratva man is any different? You still need to consider how you or your image may affect or reflect on him, especially a man like Kaz.” “There’s a big difference.” Konstantin dropped the pretense and the newspaper, discarding it to the island as he turned to face her fully. “Go on, tell me.” “I was never given the choice with my family. Kaz has always been my choice.” For a long while, Konstantin didn’t respond. He simply stared at her, taking in her words, and probably weighing them. Frankly, Violet didn’t give a shit what he or anyone else thought about

her or the relationship she had with Kaz. People were always going to assume things about them— that she was just following behind a man, rebelling in a new way. Or maybe some might assume Kaz was using her as a way to push against the constraints set out for him by his family. She honestly just didn’t care. Violet didn’t need to explain or correct anyone. Kaz knew. She knew. The rest could politely fuck right off. “You surprise me,” Konstantin said, watching her in the most unnerving way. “But it isn’t the first time, and I learn quickly, so I doubt you’ll manage it again.” “I’m well aware some people don’t think I’m … up to standard. For Kaz, I mean.” Konstantin chuckled. “Would there not be people who thought the same of him where you’re concerned, Violet?” She hadn't really considered that, but when she did, one single thought came to mind.

A moment. As passing and quick as it had been all those months ago. Her father’s statement to Kaz as he held a gun to Alberto’s head. If only you were Italian, my boy. It didn’t matter that he would die for her—kill for her. He wasn’t good enough because he wasn’t Italian. Konstantin’s smile faded away the longer Violet stayed silent. “You made the choice, yes? That’s what you said—he was a choice.” “What about it?” Violet asked. “You also chose the hell that comes with it, girl. Being Italian is just one of those things. You were right. People will always think you aren’t up to par, but I’m sure as you did with me, you’ll find a way to surprise them. You don’t have to be good enough for everyone else, Violet, only him.” Violet took those words in and decided to keep them in the back of her mind whenever she felt out of place in their world. Maybe it was the culture, the language barrier at times, or just

simply feeling like she was always being appraised and judged, but she’d needed those words. “Thank you,” Violet said, not explaining why she was grateful. Konstantin waved her statement off. “No worries. How do you feel about taking a few days to … well, get out of this townhouse and do some things?” Violet just stared at him. “Kaz is gone, isn’t he?” “What makes you think that?” It was simple, really. “He’d never let me leave this house after what happened—at least, not without someone he trusted with me. And you said a few days, so he isn’t coming back anytime soon.” She tried not to be angry that Kaz had gone and not told her. “I like you,” Konstantin said. “You’re quick.” “Where is he?” “New York.” Violet liked Konstantin.

He was honest. Even if the truth scared the fuck out of her. “Why?” she asked. Konstantin smiled lightly. “Many reasons.” “Why didn’t you go?” His amusement fled instantly as he repeated, “Many reasons.” “You could give me one.” “My father would never approve, and he’s one man I try not to irritate.” Violet understood that better than Konstantin could possibly know. “So you’re stuck babysitting me while they’re having all the fun, huh?” Konstantin’s serious expression cracked as he started laughing. “Something like that, Violet.”

Violet was pretty damn sure her eyes couldn’t stretch any wider than they currently were as she stared at the wall of money across from her. She knew wealth. Of course, she did. However, she hadn’t seen a wall of money before. “Close your mouth,” Konstantin said as he strolled past her, entirely unaffected by her gawking. “How much is there?” “A few hundred thousand, give or take.” Nope.

Violet’s eyes could get wider. “Seems like a lot more,” she said more to herself than Konstantin. “Small bills,” Konstantin replied by way of explanation. “You’re not here to stare at the wall, Violet. Come on.” Still staring at the cash, Violet followed behind Konstantin, only taking her gaze off the wall of cellophane-wrapped bricks of money when he slammed the office door. She couldn’t see it, then. “Take a seat,” Konstantin said. “I won’t be long.” Violet took in the office space, which was much larger than she had first realized. Konstantin made his way over to his desk, spinning the leather chair around and falling into it as he opened a drawer at the same time. She didn’t find a seat like he had told her to; instead, she milled about the edge of the office, taking in the artwork on the wall and the books on the shelves. Konstantin seemed far too interested in whatever he was looking through to notice Violet’s snooping.

That or he didn’t care. She suspected it was the latter, considering the man had eyes in the back of his fucking head. She’d given him the finger behind his back earlier when he’d made one of his smart-ass comments, and somehow, the bastard knew. “Are you pissed?” Konstantin suddenly asked. Violet swung around to stare at him. “For what?” “I don’t know … Kaz going off without a word? Seems a good reason.” “Am I supposed to be?” Violet wasn’t particularly happy—a goodbye or an explanation would have been nice—but she had to trust that Kaz knew what he was doing. She didn’t expect him to sit around and wait after her father’s men had come far too close just three days earlier. “Better that you’re not,” Konstantin noted, “because I can’t stand pissy women.” She glowered at him, less than impressed with his crudeness. Still, Violet let it go, strolling over to a leather

chair in the corner to sit down. “What are we doing here, anyway?” “Making sure things are as they’re supposed to —” His words cut off as his gaze cut to the side, glancing at the flat-screen monitor on the desk. All emotion wiped from his features in a blink. He turned to stone, cold and hard. “Well, shit.” Violet frowned. That didn’t sound good. “Something wrong?” Konstantin’s gaze flicked to her and then back to the monitor. “No … Not at all.” “Okay.” “A word of advice, Violet.” “For what?” she asked, confused as hell. “Let him introduce himself first, and don’t speak unless he talks to you. Black is the best color. And pickles are God’s gift to man, much like women and vodka.” Violet’s brow crumpled. “What?” Her confusion didn’t last long, as a knock sounded on the office door a second before it was thrown open. The man who strolled in, lit cigar in

hand, immediately reminded Violet of Kolya because of his large stature and wide shoulders. He was dressed in all black—from his shoes to his suit to even the cufflinks in the black dress shirt he wore. Somehow, maybe it was the color of his eyes —a cold black—as his gaze fell on her in the corner and then passed over her just as quickly to look at Konstantin, or maybe it was the almost intimidating quality of his aura, but she knew … This was the Boykov brothers’ father. The man’s next words confirmed her suspicions. “Son,” he greeted. “What did I tell you about bringing guests to the compound? Not to, yes?” Konstantin’s eyes snapped to Violet but quickly went back to his father. “She’s harmless.” “I’m sure.” “Worry not, Vadim. She wouldn’t know where to begin even if I told her to go wild.” “It isn’t hard to figure out, Konstantin,” Vadim replied coolly. “Anyone with two brain cells could figure it out if they stared at it all long enough.”

“That isn’t Kaz’s style.” Vadim seemed to take those words in slower than he had the others, mulling over a response as he turned to give Violet another once-over. She could distinguish the similarities in his features to those of his sons’—Konstantin shared his father’s hard lines while Kolya shared the size and demeanor, obviously. “You can sure tell where she comes from, no?” Violet blinked, her mouth opening to ask what that was supposed to mean. Konstantin’s earlier words kept her quiet. “Like an olive,” Konstantin replied, chuckling. Violet did look at Konstantin that time, silently questioning. “You have a darker tone—olive, they call it,” he explained. What? “And you’re what—snow white?” Violet asked before she could stop herself. Silence echoed in the room for a split second, making Violet realize she had opened her mouth

before she was apparently supposed to. It didn’t seem to matter. Vadim’s heavy, thick laughter filled the office, and Konstantin sat back in his chair, grinning in that way of his that said she had managed to surprise him, once again. “I can see why she might have caught his eye,” Vadim noted after his laughter died down. “Well…” His gaze traveled over Violet’s figure, never lingering for too long, but making sure he got his fill. “One reason, anyway.” “Dad,” Konstantin murmured. Vadim waved his son off. “Are you enjoying Chicago, girl?” “Violet,” she said. “My name is Violet.” “I know your name. It isn’t what I asked.” “I like it just fine.” Vadim, seemingly satisfied with her answer, turned his attention back to Konstantin. “Grisha is waiting at the door for me. I told him I wouldn’t be long, and you know how that bastard gets restless when I make him wait. Is everything set?” “As well as it can be.”

“The order will be filled on time?” “And in their hands early,” Konstantin replied just as fast. “What about New York?” Vadim asked, his gaze sliding back to Violet for a quick moment. Violet held her breath, waiting for Konstantin’s reply. While he had mostly brushed her questions off, and Kaz had yet to answer her text messages back—she suspected he had spent the morning on a plane—she figured Konstantin would be more likely to give his father a different response than he gave her. “Nothing yet,” Konstantin replied. “Not that I know much—you wanted me here, hmm?” Vadim’s hostile demeanor was back in a blink. “You know why that is.” “Yet you allowed Kolya to—” “Kolya is not like you. Finish up here and get the girl off the compound. Regardless of who she is or where she comes from, we don’t share secrets, even with friends.” With that, Vadim turned on his heel, making for the door. As he passed Violet’s spot, he said, “A pleasure, Violet,

I’m sure.” “And you …” She still wasn’t sure what she should call him. Vadim offered her a thin, cold smile, almost as if he could read her mind. He didn’t offer her a name to call him, though. It reminded her of someone else—someone who also hadn’t thought she deserved the respect of calling him by his name. Vasily Markovic. Once Vadim was gone, and the office door closed, Konstantin sighed loudly. “Well,” he drawled. Violet looked at him. “What?” He looked exhausted all of the sudden. Like that short conversation with his father had taken all of his patience, effort, and give a fuck he had. “Well,” Konstantin said again, chuckling, “you survived. That’s a mark for you.” What had she missed? Violet didn’t think she would get an answer even if she asked.

“Get off your phone.” Kaz glanced up from the device and over at Kolya, who was seated in a window seat on the other side of the jet. Though his attention focused solely on the night sky outside, he had still known. Kolya frowned. “I can smell your paranoia from here. Konstantin will look after her.” He didn’t doubt it, but that didn’t make him worry any less. He could excuse it before because he was still in the city, still close enough that should there be a need, he could get to her. Now, he was thousands of feet in the air, and should she need him, he wouldn’t know for at least another two hours. But still. The next best thing to Kolya was Konstantin, and should the need arise, Kaz didn’t doubt that he would handle any problem that came up. “Your Italian, tell me of her.”

Kolya said ‘Italian’ like it was a foreign, mystical thing that he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around. “What do you want to know?” “Anything. Everything. I just don’t see it. You know her from fuck all, yet here you are, about to start a war with that father of yours for her.” What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Kaz had never considered how others might have felt about his relationship with Violet—he had only cared for her feelings on the matter. That was just the way it was. But how could he possibly sum up the way he felt about Violet for Kolya to understand? Shit, he could barely explain it to himself. From that very first glare she sent him in Rus’ office, he knew. “I was there the day they found Maya, remember?” Kaz asked, the memory popping into his head. “You threw a man through a glass window just because he made her cry—you had known her for all of three minutes.” Kolya frowned, rubbing his jaw. “That doesn’t sound right.”

Kaz raised a brow. “Which part?” “I didn’t throw him. It was a punch,” Kolya said with a nod of his head, as though this made all the difference. “Do you really want to argue semantics?” “Facts are facts.” “Regardless,” Kaz said before Kolya could say anymore, “if you were sitting in my seat, you would be doing the same thing.” “No,” Kolya corrected. “If I were in your seat, I would’ve shot your father in the fucking face months ago—first order of business once I was released. And if Maya’s father—rest his fucking soul—had thought to stand between her and me then he’d be in the ground too. That’s what I need you to remember, Kaz.” He looked at Kolya. It was very rare that the man made a spiel since he rarely spoke unless needed, but when he did, there was a reason. “You forgot how this business is done. When I asked you why you came to Chicago, it was not because you’re not welcome—it was because you left New York before Vasily was cold in the

ground. You forgot the one lesson the fucking bastard taught all of us: Never turn your back on the motherfucker you’re trying to kill. You gave him too much time to prepare.” Kolya shifted in his seat. “But everyone makes mistakes. It’s where you go from here that matters. Your girl is safe and out of the way, so now you need to do what should have been done before. Let this be the fucking end of it.” If Kaz had his way, Vasily wouldn’t live to see another nightfall, but more than that, if Kaz stuck to his plan, the seat would be opening up as well. Within the Bratva, killing the boss didn’t necessarily award you the Pakhan title. Sure, one could take it, but that didn’t guarantee loyalty, and the brotherhood was nothing if not loyal. But should the seat be freely given, it was there for the taking. He only needed one more piece before he could end it all. Christian Carracci. Alberto’s consigliere. A phone call to Rus had gotten him most of the

details about the man and where they could find him. At first, Kaz thought to tell his brother the truth about Gavrill in person—something he wanted to do face-to-face—but Rus had been curious as to why he was being asked about a man in Cosa Nostra. Instead of telling him everything, Kaz had merely told him about the role Christian had played in it all but not about Vasily. As he had expected, Rus was more than happy to tag along on their mission to find him, even if he didn’t know the truth as to why they were bringing him in alive. “It’s all good,” Kaz said as he focused back on Kolya. “It’ll be done soon.” By the time the jet was rolling down the runway, the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. Rus was waiting next to his truck. When they stepped off the jet, it wasn’t to Kaz his brother offered a smile but to Kolya. “You still look like shit, Kolya, but that wife of yours can only do so much about that.” Anyone. Anyone else and Kolya would have broken the man’s jaw, but because it was Rus,

Kolya merely laughed and clapped the man on the back once he got close. Of course, Kolya actually liked Rus. Finally looking at Kaz, Rus said, “I got what you asked for.” He led the way to the trunk of his car, opening the case inside to display a row of guns. Nodding, he picked up one of the Glocks and slid the magazine into place. “Let’s go find an Italian.”

Konstantin put the car in park, throwing off his seat belt and reaching for the phone he’d tossed in the cup holder. “Let’s go. I’ve got to grab some shit, and then we can head back to the townhouse.” Violet passed the home they’d stopped at a look, confused. “Can’t I just wait here?” “No.” “But—”

“No.” Violet scowled at Konstantin as he pushed open the driver’s door and got out without so much as an explanation for where they were or why they were there. She didn’t even get the chance to open her door before Konstantin was opening it for her. She stepped out of the car, tightening the neck of her jacket to keep the cold out. “You live here?” The double-level home was situated on the outskirts of the city in a quiet suburb with houses lining both sides of the road. A small group of young children played in the yard across from the house where they had parked. “Sort of,” Konstantin said, offering little else. The walkway leading up to the home was lined with shrubs that had been covered for the winter to protect them from the elements, and the path itself was shoveled clear of snow. Once they reached the painted white steps that led up to the pale yellow front door, Konstantin didn't bother to knock but pushed the door open and strolled right in. Violet walked in after him, shutting the door

behind her as Konstantin kicked off his boots and shrugged off his coat. He gave her a curious look as she stood there, looking around. “Are you going to wait here, or what?” he asked. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I don’t know who lives here.” Violet wasn’t the kind of person who just snooped through someone’s home. Konstantin smiled, chuckling. “Viktoria, actually. When she’s got shit going on, I stick around to keep an eye on things.” “Things?” “Her.” Violet raised a single brow, curious. Konstantin didn’t give her an opportunity to press for more details, not that it would have been any of her business to do so. “Worry not, the Ice Queen isn’t home at the moment. You’re safe to make yourself comfortable while I grab what I came for.” “She leaves her doors unlocked?” Violet asked.

“Who the fuck is stupid enough to break into a Boykov’s home?” Point taken. Violet dropped the conversation and went about taking off her own things. By the time she was done, Konstantin had already disappeared down the hallway. She listened to his steps as it sounded like he climbed stairs. For such a quiet man—at times—he wasn’t very light-footed. That or Konstantin didn’t feel the need to keep his presence quiet. Cell phone in hand, Violet made her way down the hallway, peeking into a living room with leather furniture, beige walls, and a flat-screen television large enough to cover nearly half of one entire wall. Pictures on the walls showcased many different faces, but she recognized a few. The Boykov brothers. Maya. Some with her husband, some without. Viktoria. Violet, feeling a little out of place in a room filled with family photos, decided to find another

room to chill in until Konstantin finished his business. She eventually found her way into a kitchen that looked like it was rarely, if ever, used. The immaculate appliances and brightness of the room reminded Violet of the kitchen in Kaz’s apartment—one he had also rarely used. Inviting like a showroom floor but cold all the same. Pulling out a chair at the kitchen table, Violet sat down and looked at the black screen. She hit the home button, hoping for some kind of message from Kaz but finding nothing. The unease settling deep in the pit of her stomach only grew the longer she stared at her phone. Violet shoved it to the side and stared out the window, watching light tufts of snow begin to fall. If nothing else, it gave her a distraction. That only lasted a short while, long enough for her to get lost in a daze of white flakes. And then a door slammed open. The front door. Violet damn near jumped out of her chair. “Jesus, Konstantin. What did I tell you about

bringing females into my house?” Great. Violet tried not to cringe at the venom in Viktoria’s tone, never mind the few Russian words she let loose. Guessing by her anger, they weren’t pleasant words. All too soon, Viktoria’s figure was passing by the kitchen in a flurry of platinum blonde hair and a black dress. Then the woman slowed her steps, backing up slowly, and eyeing Violet at the kitchen table. A cold, blank slate of nothingness quickly replaced the irritation on her face. “Hello … Violet, right?” Viktoria asked. Violet let the girl’s rude attitude bounce off her. Viktoria knew her name—she’d known it the first time they met without Violet even needing to introduce herself. “Nice to see you again, Viktoria,” Violet said. “Or … privyet, right?” Viktoria looked like she almost wanted to crack a smile but managed to hold it back. “That would be right, but your American accent makes your Russian terrible.”

Violet did smile, still refusing to let the woman bother her. She wasn’t sure what in the hell Viktoria’s problem with her was, but it wasn’t something Violet had done to her. The two didn’t know each other from a fucking hole in the ground. Whatever Viktoria’s issue was, she would need to handle it on her own. It was her problem, not Violet’s. “I could have said it my way,” Violet said quietly. Viktoria didn’t look all that impressed. “Oh?” “Sì. Ciao. Come stai?” “I—” “I believe she said hello and asked how you were,” Konstantin interrupted his sister, strolling into the kitchen like nothing was amiss. Tossing Violet a smile, he asked, “Yes?” “Actually, yeah,” Violet replied. “How did you know?” “Standard greeting.” Konstantin went straight to the fridge, opening it up and bending down to dig inside. “Anyone who travels should at least learn a few simple, easy phrases to get by in a

foreign place.” “You’ve been to Italy?” Konstantin straightened, bottle of water in one hand, a jar of something else in his other. “No.” “But you just said—” “Best to be able to talk to your enemy, too,” he said, smiling in that cold way of his. Viktoria laughed at that, her gaze cutting to Violet as if she had missed some unspoken joke. Konstantin dropped the jar to the countertop, the loud clank silencing Viktoria’s laughter instantly. “But,” he drawled, his stare never leaving his sister, “we have no enemies here, yes?” “You could have said you were playing the babysitter today,” Viktoria said. “It was a last minute thing, sestra.” Then just as quickly as the conversation had begun in English, the two siblings switched to Russian, effectively leaving Violet confused and out of the loop. It wasn’t the first time it had happened since she arrived in Chicago. Somehow, she doubted it would be the last

time. However, it didn't irritate her any less. Finally, seemingly satisfied with whatever he’d said to his sister, Konstantin returned to English, directing his next sentence to Violet. “You want a snack or something before we go?” “What kind of snack?” He pointed at the jar, saying, “Pickles are good.” What? Violet blinked. “Pickles?” Serious as ever, Konstantin didn’t seem bothered by Violet’s confusion. “Pickles are a staple—a must. You want one or not?” “I’m good,” she settled on saying. Viktoria shook her head as she took a pickle her brother offered. “You can’t even dress her up as a Russian.” What?

“You need to come out,” Kolya was saying to Rus as he tugged on a pair of leather gloves. “Maya would love to have you.” Parked down the block from 416 Meadow Lane, Kaz weighed the odds as he strapped on the bulletproof vest Rus had handed to him moments before. While Christian Carracci’s odds weren’t great against the three of them, Kaz still didn’t expect the man to go without a fight. In the life they led, any man who reacted too slowly wouldn’t survive. “We can do this one of two ways,” Kaz said,

his eyes still on the house. “I can knock—” “It’s four in the fucking morning,” Kolya interjected. “You know, what’s he going to do? Come to the door and say hello?” Grinding his teeth for patience, Kaz added, “He wouldn’t expect us to knock. At the very least, it’ll mean less noise.” Kolya shook his head as though that wasn’t what he wanted. “And the other option? “Or Rus goes around back, and we take the front.” “Finally, you’re making sense.” Paying him no mind, Kaz was the first out of the car, his Glock at the ready as he started down the street. Though cars lined the street, it was an older neighborhood, one where all but few were in their homes at this hour. That made for very few witnesses if they were careful enough. And Kaz was nothing if not careful. Rus disappeared around a corner. Kolya was at Kaz’s back as they slipped past the fence surrounding the property and onto the porch. The interior was nearly as dark as the street save for

the lone lamp in what looked like the living room —from what Kaz could make out through the curtains. Gesturing to the door with a tilt of his head, Kaz looked at Kolya and said, “By all means.” Kolya pulled out the small kit he always carried in his back pocket, carefully maneuvering the tools into place as he began working on the locks of the door. It was a trait he had taught both Kaz and Rus, but neither could breach a door quite as cleanly or as quick as Kolya could. Twenty seconds and they were in. Kaz kept his steps light as he carefully moved through the house, his eyes scanning the space. One thing that was always the same in older houses like these was the layout, so he had a good idea where the master bedroom was located. They were barely through the doorway of the back hallway when the rear door opened, and Rus quickly moved to take position behind them. On this side of the house, soft light spilled from beneath a lone door, and if Kaz had to guess, this was Christian’s bedroom.

He only glanced in the direction of Kolya and Rus, giving the former a slight nod before stepping back. Kolya didn’t hesitate, rearing back to send his booted foot slamming into the door. The wood splintered, bits of it flying as the door crashed open, and a woman’s scream sounded from the other side. Kaz was the first through, his gun aimed and ready, zeroing in on Christian as he reached for the firearm on the nightstand at his side. But he didn’t have time for that nonsense—he had shit to do. Pointing the gun at the man’s leg, he fired. The bullet hardly made a noise as it ripped free of the chamber and tore through the blankets that covered Christian’s legs. And from his shout of pain—loud enough to wake the fucking dead—Kaz hadn’t missed his mark. “I wouldn’t,” Kaz said, turning his attention to the woman at Christian’s side who, too, had been reaching for her own weapon. “While my mother might be disappointed, I’m not afraid to put a fucking bullet in you if you move again.” Fear shone in her eyes as she froze but behind

that fear was audacity. He didn’t doubt that as the wife of a made man—judging from the ring on her finger—she was used to others giving her respect at every turn, but Kaz couldn’t give a shit. “Russians,” Christian spat, glaring at them. “You’ve got a fucking death wish.” “Maybe so,” Kaz agreed as he walked to the man’s side and dragged him out of the bed, a far easier job now that he had a bullet in his leg. “But by the time I finish with you, you’re going to wish it were as simple as that.” “What do you want to do about her?” Kolya asked in Russian, never taking his eyes off the woman. Kaz knew the score. They would barely make it a foot out the door before she would be on the phone and calling for someone or at their backs with a gun. He hadn’t lied when he said he would put a bullet in her, even if he had yet to kill a woman over the course of his life. And even if he wasn’t able to pull the trigger, Kolya had no qualms in the matter—he would do it with ease. “Tie her up,” Kaz finally answered, barely

sparing the woman another glance as Rus came forward to zip tie Christian’s wrists behind his back. “And stuff her ass in a closet.” There was no need for her to die, not when it didn’t benefit him in any way. As Kolya took a step forward, Christian’s wife made a soft sound of distress, her eyes flickering to the door, as though she could possibly make it through before one of them caught her. “You lay a fucking paw on—” But Christian didn’t get to finish his threat, not before Kaz’s annoyance kicked up and he sent the man’s face slamming into the wall before he dropped like a sack of bricks. “You talk too much,” he said absently, and then to Kolya, “Finish with her then meet us at the car.” Between him and Rus, they carried Christian’s limp body out of the house and down the street, stuffing him in the trunk. Taking a step back, Kaz surveyed the damage to the man’s leg in the low light. He hadn’t hit the femoral artery—he wasn’t bleeding nearly enough—but if he didn’t at least tie

it off, the man would be dead before they made it to the warehouse. Whipping off his own belt, Kaz fit it around the man’s thigh, cinching it as tight as he could before grabbing an old shirt and tying it around the bleeding flesh. His work done, he slammed the trunk shut, wiping his hands along the front of his pants. It wasn’t long before Kolya was out of the house and slipping into the car after them. Rus didn’t hesitate to pull onto the street, chasing the rising sun through the streets of Amityville until they were entering their own territory in Brighton Beach. By the time they reached a line of warehouses and Rus was pulling into the third, the sun was high in the sky, and Kaz could see far too clearly the blood that coated his hands. But by the time he finished in here, it would cover him. Over the span of a few minutes, Kaz pulled Christian from the trunk, stringing him up across the room. He used the controls on a side wall to raise the hook just high enough that he wouldn’t be

able to keep his balance. Kolya and Rus lingered in the back, allowing him to do what he wanted without interference. Dragging his shirt over his head, Kaz tossed the material on a nearby table, feeling the chill of the room sinking into his skin. How long had it been since he was in this room? It wasn’t often that he used this space, or even that he really needed to, but for Christian Carracci, he would make an exception. “Come now,” he said slapping the man’s cheek a couple of times to stir him awake. “I don’t want you to miss the good part.” It wasn’t until Kaz put a little more power behind his slap that the man stirred. It took a moment of low groaning before Christian finally jerked in his bonds, forcing his head up, wary eyes on Kaz. “Who—” “All will be explained in due time, comrade.” Kaz took a step back. Cracking his knuckles, he drew the man’s gaze to his movements. He wasn’t supposed to enjoy this as much as he

would, but he could already feel the adrenaline coursing through him. “January 21st, 1998, where were you?” His brows arched together, and Christian shook his head. “That was seventeen years ago. How the hell should I know?” “I know where I was,” Kaz said conversationally. “Home with that bastard of a father of mine. I can even tell you where my brother was that day. Want to know?” Christian looked at Kaz as though he’d lost his mind. “What the fuck are you going on about?” “He was with our uncle, Gavrill,” Kaz said, ignoring the man’s words. The restlessness of the room faded as Christian finally understood why he was there. Kaz didn’t have to turn and look to know that they had Rus’ complete attention. Even if he didn’t know everything, he was now piecing together what he did know. “Now, I’ll ask you again. Where were you on that day?” Spitting out a mouthful of blood, Christian

glared at him. “You think you have all the answers?” Kaz’s fist was slamming into the man’s stomach in the next breath, not even close to feeling satisfied despite Christian’s shout of pain. “I don’t have to have all the answers—that’s what you’re here for.” “What do you want from me?” “I want you to suffer,” Kaz answered. “I want to watch you fucking bleed for what you did to my uncle. I want to know what your bones feel like when they finally snap, but for now, I’ll settle on what you know about that day and the order given.” Christian didn’t respond. His patience wearing thin, Kaz picked up a pair of vise grips, turning them over in his hands. “I once used these on a man, got his fingers between the teeth, applying just enough pressure to get his attention. But he was a fucking masochist— refused to say anything until the flesh of his finger split down the middle.” Tapping the man’s forehead with the tool, Kaz asked, “Are you a masochist, Christian? How long will you hold out

before your mouth is nothing but mush and blood? If you’d like, I’ll even count your teeth for you.” Ah and there it was. That healthy dose of fear men got when they realized just what they were dealing with. It was easy to pretend somebody from the outside was nothing. That they couldn’t be worth half their salt. How easily some seemed to underestimate him. But they wouldn’t, not for much longer. “You can’t kill me for that,” Christian said, forcing his head back up. “That wasn’t part of the deal.” “Tell me about this deal.” He seemed to realize his error too late. Kaz didn’t care about the death, but he wanted to know about the happenings before it. It wouldn’t be enough that Alberto gave Christian the order. No, he needed proof of Vasily’s involvement in the matter. He could have only hoped that the consigliere knew some of the finer details—he was closest to Alberto after all—and that information would get him exactly where he

needed to be. “You know, or we wouldn’t be here.” Tired of the man, Kaz pulled the belt he had tied around his leg free and let it drop to the ground then ripped off the makeshift bandage. Shifting his hold on the vise grips, he shoved the handle into the bullet wound, using every bit of his considerable strength to shove the handle deeper past shredded muscle. Christian tried to maintain his balance, but between jerking his leg, trying to escape the agony he was in, and the ties biting into the flesh of his wrists, he couldn’t go anywhere. Blood pooled around the weapon, sliding hot and wet across Kaz’s fingers, the sight of it both unsettling and riveting. He was seconds from extracting it and finding another weapon to use on him when Christian finally broke. “Vasily!” Christian shouted, voice thick with pain. “It was all his idea.” “Good man,” Kaz said releasing his hold on the weapon though it stayed embedded in his flesh. “Finish.”

Taking a few deep breaths to fight his way through the pain, Christian replied, “In exchange for an end to the war, he would give us Gavrill.” “And he would be free to take the boss’ seat,” Kolya supplied from his position across the room. Rus’ expression was unreadable. It all made sense now, the reason why Vasily was so adamant about them avoiding the Italians all these years. He knew Kaz would figure it out, would finally connect the dots and find what he had been hiding. It also explained his hatred and jealousy toward his brother, the need to be more than he was. A desperate man always made mistakes. And his mistake was turning against his own for greed. “You asked what I wanted from you, Carracci, and now, I have an answer to your question.” He waited until the man’s eyes focused on him. “I want to watch my father burn, and you’re the key to that.”

The unnerving thing about Konstantin Boykov was his quietness. One minute, he could be smiling, loud, and seemingly in a good mood, and the next, he was quiet and still, staring off into nothing and looking like a damn statue. Violet wasn’t quite sure what to make of that as she sipped from a cup of coffee and watched the youngest Boykov brother across the room. Ankle crossed over his knee, not a speck of dirt or dust on his suit, and a blank expression firmly etched in place, Konstantin looked like something carved from ice. “Must you stare?” he asked, surprising Violet. “For someone who makes a lot of noise most of the time, it’s kind of strange when you’re quiet.” “It’s a gift.” Konstantin offered nothing else, and he didn’t look away from the pale beige wall he’d been staring at for the last half hour.

“Are you … thinking or something?” she dared to ask. “No.” “Meditating?” Finally, Konstantin’s stony mask cracked as his brow crumpled. “Do you actually know someone who does that?” “Meditates?” “That’s what you said, no?” Violet frowned. “I can’t say I do.” Konstantin shrugged. “I’m not meditating.” “So you just stare at walls and do nothing.” It wasn’t even a question. “Am I bothering you?” “Well—” “It wouldn’t matter if I were,” he interrupted with a slight smile. Violet sighed. “You’re impossible.” “You don’t have to live with me, so it matters very little what you think of my behaviors.” “I pity the woman who does live with you, then.” Konstantin chuckled. “Nice try, but Viktoria

doesn’t get much of a choice in that.” Huh. Violet took that information in just as Konstantin had easily handed it over. She wasn’t all too surprised to learn that Konstantin was single, considering he hadn’t brought women around when he did visit, unlike Kolya, who almost always brought his wife. And for that matter, no one ever said a thing about Konstantin being involved with someone. “Do you do this—” The ringing of a phone interrupted Violet’s question. Konstantin passed her a look that told her to keep quiet as he pulled a cell phone from his pocket and placed the device up to his ear. “Konstantin here,” he said, gazing turning back on the wall and growing silent as he listened for a few moments. “Is that so? I wasn’t aware a problem was left behind.” Violet’s back stiffened at his statement, wondering what it meant. “No, it’s fine,” he added after a quick second. “I will handle it. Do not bother the boss with it.”

Once Konstantin was off the phone and had discarded the device back into his pocket, he pushed up from the chair with a curious glint in his eye. “What?” Violet asked. “Seems we have business to do.” She hugged her coffee cup a little closer to her chest. “But I don't want to do business.” She just wanted to stay hidden away in the townhouse until Kaz came back. The last time she decided to go on a trip, bad shit happened. “Well, too bad. I can’t leave you here alone, and someone else might not be as nice with the problem your father’s people left behind.” Wait … what? “You won’t explain that if I ask, will you?” she asked. Konstantin grinned. “No, but don’t worry. You will see soon enough. Let’s go.” All too soon, Violet sat in the passenger seat of Konstantin’s vehicle as unfamiliar streets passed her by in a blur of white snow and buildings. It really was a shame that she couldn’t

enjoy Chicago more, but maybe someday … “You will stay in the car, yes?” Despite the fact he’d posed that statement as a question, it didn’t sound like Konstantin was actually offering Violet a choice in the matter. “I thought you were supposed to be watching me,” she said, glancing back at him. Konstantin never took his eyes off the road. “It is safe to say we only have one problem left in Chicago to take care of, which I am handling now. The only reason we know about this problem is because of one that managed to survive but we had a little fun with.” Violet shivered—the only problems in Chicago had been her father’s men. She did not like the sound of what Konstantin was suggesting at all. Better she didn’t ask. She was learning that was the best way to get through the day where Bratva men were concerned. Don’t ask, and they wouldn’t tell. She didn’t mind turning her cheek. “Almost there,” Konstantin said, more to

himself it seemed. Violet focused on the buildings passing them by and only really took note of where they were when it became more rural on the outskirts of the city. Konstantin began humming a tune and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel a second before he pulled off the road and into a small parking lot that belonged to what looked to be a hotel of sorts. Not necessarily a shoddy one, but it wasn’t upscale, either. “Stay in the car,” Konstantin repeated as he pulled in front of one of the rooms with a large, tarnished “7” displayed on the door. Violet was sure she saw the curtain move on the window beside the door, but— “Violet, did you hear me?” “Yes, Konstantin. I’ll stay in the fucking car.” Konstantin laughed his way out of the vehicle, letting the driver’s door slam shut. Violet watched him walk up to the hotel room’s door, and she expected him to knock. He didn’t. Violet squeaked in surprised when Konstantin

reared back and kicked the door just below the knob, and it swung open, exposing shadows and no one standing behind it. As quickly as he was there, Konstantin was gone, disappearing into the room. Not even ten seconds later, he was back at the doorway with someone at his side. Violet’s gaze widened as something heavy and hard welled in her gut. Amelia. Konstantin passed Violet a look, a single brow raising as he dragged a fighting, shouting Amelia toward the vehicle. Violet couldn’t help but turn in the seat to watch as Konstantin opened up the back door and shoved Amelia into the backseat as if she was nothing more than a ragdoll with limp limbs. “You can’t just fucking take—” “Quiet,” Konstantin said calmly. Too calm, even. Violet’s gaze flicked back and forth between her former friend in the backseat and Konstantin’s stone-cold features as he pointed a finger at Amelia. “Shut up, girl, right now,” he told her.

Maybe it was the deadly calm, uncaring way he spoke or maybe it was the blank blackness in his eyes, but Amelia shrunk back in the seat, silent. Konstantin flashed a smile, but it still came off as cold and cruel. “Well done.” He slammed the door on her. The very second he did, Amelia lunged for the door, ready to escape maybe, but a beep sounded, and the doors locked. Violet’s former friend shrieked her despair, trying and failing to get the latch to open the door. “Fucking asshole,” Amelia mumbled. Violet wasn’t even entirely sure why, but her mouth worked before her brain could think it over properly. “He’s not that bad, actually. Just a little moody.” As if Amelia was only just then realizing she wasn’t alone in the vehicle, her fiery, hateful gaze turned on Violet as she spun around in the backseat. “You …” Violet caught sight of Konstantin rounding the car, coming toward the driver’s side. “What about me?”

“This is your fault; you and that fucking Russian sc—” “Watch it,” Violet snapped. Unlike Konstantin, who was able to be cool and calm in the face of someone who thought he was worth less than the dirt under his shoe, Violet could not say the same. And fucking no one would disrespect Kaz. She had heard enough of that bullshit from her father and brother to last her a lifetime over the past several months. The car beeped again, and Konstantin slid in the driver’s seat, seemingly unruffled by the very unhappy, glaring Amelia in the backseat. “Sit down and buckle up,” he said. “Or don't and die if we get into an accident.” Violet turned back around in the seat and buckled her seat belt without a word. Still, she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder at Amelia. What is going to happen to her? “Konstantin?” “Yes?” he asked, backing the car out of the

parking spot. The hotel room’s door was still wide open. “Where are we going?” Violet asked. She figured it was better to edge into the conversation carefully. Maybe she would get more information that way. Or maybe not. “Back to the townhouse,” Konstantin replied as he pulled out onto the road. “And then what?” she hedged. Apparently, Amelia was not up for word games. “What are you going to do with me, Russian?” Amelia asked, spiteful and still glaring. Konstantin glanced into the rearview mirror, catching Amelia’s eye. “I haven’t decided yet.” Amelia straightened a bit in the seat, defiant as ever. Violet used to admire that about her old friend—Amelia was bold when others might shrink away. “Are you going to kill me?” Konstantin smiled, slow and easy. “Only if you ask me nicely.”

Every Thursday like clockwork, Vasily held a meeting, collecting payments and discussing business with the top officers of the Bratva. Since Kaz had joined the ranks, he couldn’t remember his father ever missing a single meeting, and because of this, he knew exactly where the man would be by the time he got everything he possibly could out of Christian Carracci. It wasn’t anxiety, though the emotion felt akin to that, that Kaz was feeling the closer they came to that building, spotting the line of cars already present. Months of planning had led up to this

moment, and it was about fucking time. Having left Christian in the care of his brother and Kolya with strict instructions not to kill the man, he had cleaned himself up, changed clothes, and made himself as presentable as he could in the short window of time he had. Appearances meant everything. He could have gone as he was, showing the other men the brutality of what he had inflicted on the man who had taken one of their own from them, but that wasn’t the image he needed them to see. It wasn’t just about removing Vasily from his seat and taking everything he held dear. He wanted to make sure no one would question who was in charge by the time he walked out of the room. Muffled voices carried through the double doors at the end of the hallway, but Kaz didn’t slow his stride, nor did Rus, who was dragging a semi-conscious Christian through the hallway. He only had seconds to ready himself before he was shoving the doors open, bringing all conversation to a halt as eyes turned on him.

But he only cared about one, and as he looked at the head of the table where he was meant to be, he was absent. Kaz could have almost smiled. Finally, one—Boris, his name was—was brave enough to speak. “What are you doing here, Kazimir? Vasily—” “Is not here now, is he? When should we be expecting him?” He didn’t mind waiting; he had all the time in the world at that moment. None of these men were bold enough to make a move against him without Vasily being present anyway. When silence met his question, he looked at one of Vasily’s underlings and said, “Call him.” He didn’t move, boldly staring Kaz down as though he had every right to sit there in defiance. It didn’t matter if Vasily was the Pakhan. Kaz still had stars, and his ranking afforded him certain luxuries. Including making an example out of anyone who didn’t give him the respect he’d earned. What kind of boss would he be in the eyes of these men if he let them walk all over him?

Kaz gestured for Rus and Kolya to enter the room before he shut the doors and locked them, just as his father would have done had he been there—the act a signal for the beginning of the meeting. He was all but forgotten for a moment as they all looked at the bleeding man, curiosity mixed with disgust flitting over their faces. They knew he was Italian but not the reason he was in the same room as them. But before he would address that, Kaz had to attend to another matter. As he crossed the floor, he undid the cufflinks at his wrists, drawing the sleeves back one at a time and rolling them up to his elbows. Flexing his fingers, he could just see the bruising along his knuckles from hitting Christian, but even with the ache in his hand, it didn’t matter. “I thought I asked you to do something,” Kaz said as he came upon the man in his seat opposite that of Vasily’s. “Yet here you sit.” The man ground his teeth, a fire in his eyes. “You’re not my boss.” “And when he’s not here, these stars,” Kaz

said, dragging his shirt to the side to show one of them, just in case the man had forgotten, “make me your fucking boss. So when I say do something, I expect it to be done, yes?” Since he lacked the stars that would mark him as a Captain in the Bratva, Kaz’s words were true. He was above him in ranking—and truthfully, defying the orders of any Vor was punishable by death. “You’re a dead man,” he growled back, expression tight. If anything, Kaz had to respect the man’s loyalty. “By the time I leave this room, Igor, I won’t be the one with a target on my back. Pick a side but choose wisely.” “Fuck you.” Unbidden, Kaz laughed. “Fuck me? Are you sure about that?” That unwavering defiance was steady in his eyes, and Kaz could see the answer in the man’s eyes, even as he opened his mouth. His lips were just drawing back, about to form another ‘f,’ but before he could utter the remark again, Kaz pulled

the gun from his waist and pressed the barrel to the man’s head. Igor only had the chance to widen his eyes; that arrogance disappeared as fear took its place, but before he could even think to do anything about it, Kaz had pulled the trigger. The force of the bullet threw him from his seat. His body crumpled to the floor, even as everyone else stood, looking at Kaz in surprise. But Kaz merely put his gun away, pulled the heavy chair at the head of the table out, and sank into it. It was far more of a declaration than anything he could have possibly said. “Seventeen years ago, my uncle, your Pakhan,” Kaz started, pointing at each of the men in the room, “was gunned down in cold blood by that man there.” They all looked at Christian then, who was conscious enough to realize he was in enemy territory and in a room with said enemies. What little hope he might have had that he would survive this day and night fled.

“He was given the orders by Alberto Gallucci.” “Then he’s a fucking dead man,” Boris proclaimed from his spot at the table. Back when Gavrill was still around the two had always worked closely. Besides Rus, Kaz didn’t doubt that Boris would gladly go to war for Gavrill’s death. “Gallucci will answer for his part in due time, but someone else needs to answer first.” “Who?” someone else called out. “Vasily. He sanctioned the hit. He gave the orders and promised no vengeance for the death.” Silence met his declaration, disbelief heavy in the air. He knew the questions they were probably asking themselves … Why? What reason would justify Vasily to have his brother killed? And the most important … Why should they trust his word for it? “How long has it been since I was released from jail on charges we all know should have easily been thrown out? In that time, has my father not been hounding every single one of you to find me? To bring me back so he can teach me a lesson

… yet here I am with company,” he said, gesturing at Rus, Kolya, and Christian, “and he’s nowhere to be found. On the day I’m here to show proof of his aid in helping our fucking enemies, he disappears.” It would have been just as easy for him to have Christian repeat back everything he had told him, and probably more, but he wanted to bring their doubts to the forefront first. Every single one of them had had a suspicion about Vasily ever since the man became the boss, but the fear of what Vasily might have done prevented them from ever stepping forward. Now, they had the freedom, and Kaz had merely spun the web. As he had told Igor, Kaz said, “Call him, see if he answers. What reason would he have not to?” Except, now, Kaz suspected with some certainty that his father knew he was back in the city. And as smart as he was, he had to know only one thing would drag him back to a city where he was being hunted. Boris dug his phone out of his pocket, dialing the number and putting it on speaker before laying

the device on the table. It rang once. Twice. Three times, but then the phone went to voice mail. Someone else called ... then a third ... even a fourth, yet not once did Vasily answer the phone. His non-answer told them everything they needed to know. One by one, each of the men sank back into their chairs, turning to face him. Kaz didn’t allow himself to revel in it … not yet. There was still too much work to do. “For now,” he declared, “the Italians live. Vasily is the priority.” “And what about him?” Boris asked, gesturing with a tilt of his head to Christian. “I’m sure we can find something fun to do with him.” Perhaps they could cut off his ears, remove his eyes, and rip his tongue from his mouth to mail off as gifts to Alberto. Hear no evil … Speak no evil … See no evil.

It felt appropriate. “And make no mistake,” Kaz went on, “the Italians will answer for their part in Gavrill’s death, but Violet is off-limits to you. If that is a problem for anyone in this room, I will gladly send you on your way right behind Igor. Do not doubt me on this.” Silence followed. “Glad we’re in agreement. Now,” Kaz said, folding his hands on the table, “what do you have for me?” A heartbeat or maybe two later, envelopes were lifted from pockets and set on the table before him.

“Pickle?” Amelia huddled on the edge of the couch with an afghan blanket tossed around her shoulders, refusing even to look at Konstantin when he posed

the question. It had come off as innocent, but an edge of humor lingered in his tone. Just enough to say he enjoyed pestering Amelia with his constant chatter. And he did talk. A lot. A lot more than Violet had heard him chat since she had met him, actually. “You know,” Konstantin began conversationally, “it’s only polite to answer someone when they ask you a—” “Would you shut up?” Amelia barked. Violet snickered into the book she was reading but didn’t even bother to hide the fact she was closely watching the two over the edges of the pages. Frankly, it was the most entertainment she’d had since Kaz had up and left without so much as a word. And really, she was less likely to be pissed off—or rather, let the anger she did feel fester more than it was—if she focused on what was directly at hand. Like Konstantin’s sudden need to bother his …

captive. Well, Violet guessed that was what Amelia was. Her former friend didn’t have much to say to her, even when she tried striking up a conversation. When Violet attempted to question Konstantin on what he was doing with Amelia, or what would happen, she received another one of his many blank looks that essentially told her fuck all. “What’s going to happen when you go back to New York, huh?” Violet met Amelia’s gaze at the question. “Why do you care?” “I don’t, but you do, and that’s interesting.” Amelia’s fiery stare slid toward Konstantin. “More interesting than he is.” “Liar,” Konstantin said, waving a pickle in Amelia’s direction. “I am greatly amusing.” Even Violet lifted her brow at that one. “Greatly is a bit of a stretch.” “No one asked you. You only need to be interesting to one man, and that isn’t me.” Violet stared at Konstantin for a long while,

taking in his words. She was coming to find with him, a person needed to listen to what he did say because it was often what they weren’t expecting, but it was a lot more than what he simply offered. In other words, she took nothing he gave at simply face value. From what she just gathered, Amelia was … interesting to him. Well, then. Violet turned back to Amelia. “Whatever happens, happens.” It wasn't that simple. She was a little worried. Terrified was more like it. Angry that she had yet to even get a fucking call from Kaz since he’d been gone … but still, she was concerned. “Your father will kill him,” Amelia said quietly, that fire in her eyes dimming just a bit. Violet never dropped her old friend’s stare when she replied, “He has to catch him first.” For as much bravado as was in Violet’s tone, she didn’t feel it quite the same way in her heart.

No, in there, a heavy weight rested like a poisoned ball ready to explode. Because Amelia was right. Alberto Gallucci seemed like a simple, laidback man from afar. He was anything but. He did not make idle threats. “Was it really worth it?” Amelia asked. “All of this—the mess it made—was he worth it?” For that, Violet didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” Konstantin pushed off the arm of the chair, standing straight and offering the jar of pickles he held to Amelia once more. “Pickle?” Huffing like she was just goddamned tired of his games, Amelia snatched the jar from Konstantin’s outstretched hand and pulled a pickle from it. “There, now shut up.” Konstantin only smirked in response and took the jar back without a word. But he did turn to Violet. “Oh, I forgot,” he said. Violet looked up at him. “Forgot what?” “You have a plane to catch tonight. You should

probably pack your bags.”

“Oh, but Daddy has missed you,” Kaz whispered to himself as the garage door slowly rolled up, revealing his Porsche on the other side. Just a couple of days before, he’d had the car shipped back from Chicago. How long had it been since he felt that kind of power beneath his hands? It was supposed to be just a car, just a material possession that he enjoyed occasionally, but it was just another reminder of what Vasily had attempted to take away from him. Behind the wheel, he took his time starting the engine, wanting to savor the sounds of gears shifting and bringing the beast to life. He was home. Backing out of the garage, Kaz headed toward the same airstrip he had driven to when they were leaving the city. It only seemed fitting that the same

brought them back again. Since his return, Vasily still hadn’t surfaced, and if he knew what was good for him, he would remain out of sight. There hadn’t been an urgency to finding Kaz when he disappeared to Chicago, but now, every single man of the Bratva was scouring for any trace of the old Pakhan. For all intents and purposes, Kaz was now head of the family, and because of it, head of the organization as well. But he knew his leadership was conditional, only sealed once he brought them both the heads of Vasily and Alberto. He didn’t mind the first—he would gladly kill the man—and not just because of his part in Gavrill’s death, but also for all the shit he caused for Violet. The latter did not worry him. Not that he couldn’t see that the man answered for what he did, but he couldn’t be sure what Violet’s reaction to that would be. Kaz had a great hatred for his father, and it took an emotion like that to do what Kaz planned. Violet might have been upset with Alberto, but

that didn’t mean she hated him. There was no guarantee Violet would condone what he was doing … It may even prove unforgivable in her eyes. Only time would tell. By the time he reached the airstrip, he could just see the blur of the jet in the distance. Feeling that familiar kick in his chest at the thought of seeing Violet, he was a little more anxious than he should have been considering it had only been a few days since he was last with her. They had spent months apart, contenting themselves with phone calls in the middle of the night, so mere days shouldn’t have meant anything. But he couldn’t deny that he missed being with her, seeing her at his side. It was about time he brought her home, but it wasn’t just because he missed her that he was finally bringing her back—there was more to it than that. And this, just like the Alberto thing, was nonnegotiable for him. And just like with that, he had no idea how she

would react. Another ten minutes had passed before the jet was rolling to a stop, the door to it opening moments later. Seconds, too many fucking seconds, passed before he finally caught sight of her. Green eyes alight with happiness as she hurried down the short flight of stairs. He only had enough time to brace himself before she barreled into him, arms squeezing around his neck, her legs wrapping around his waist. Kaz caught her with a chuckle, returning her embrace. “I missed you too, krasivaya.” She didn’t respond, but he could feel it in the way she clung to him that she was glad to be back. Nothing felt quite as good as having her exactly where she was. “Let’s go home.” The journey back to his apartment was a short but comfortable one. It amazed him how quickly she affected his mood—how it only took seconds before he was feeling lighter somehow. She was exactly what he needed.

It spoke of her trust in him that she didn’t look nearly as bothered as they made it into the heart of Brighton Beach toward his old apartment building —not that it would be his for very much longer. But until he got the particulars worked out, it would do. Upstairs in his apartment, he dropped his keys on the counter, shedding his jacket next. Now that he had taken control of the Bratva, he was busier than usual, constantly keeping in touch with more than a dozen men. It was tiring work, and he had barely been able to get away tonight to grab her from her flight. But he made the time—one of the benefits of being the boss, he realized. She had barely dropped her bags, turning to face him with words on the tip of her tongue before he was crossing the floor. Cradling her face in his hands, he tilted her head up to meet his gaze. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it after,” he said a moment before he kissed her, thrilling in the way she gave in almost immediately.

A moment later, she drew back just far enough to ask, “After what?” After he showed her just how much he missed her.

“Didn’t I promise you once a day?” Kaz asked. Violet’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “I think it was twice, actually. And you’re behind a few days.” Kaz watched her unflinchingly when he replied, “Oh, I think I can make up for that missed time. No worries.” God, why did that sound so bad? But good, too … “Speaking of days,” she said quietly. Kaz’s brow rose high. “What did I say, hmm?

Whatever it is, we’ll talk about it after.” His strong hands traveled down the column of her throat with the softest touch, but still just as sinful and promising as ever. Then the pads of his thumbs dragged a little firmer against her skin, silently assuring without even having to say a word that what she liked—what she always wanted from him—was close behind the softness. Violet sighed against Kaz’s lips when he pressed another kiss to her mouth. “You always know just the right thing to do, Kaz.” “Did you expect anything different?” “No,” she admitted in a whisper. How could she? He was her one perfect person made just for her. No … of course, she didn’t expect anything different from him. Kaz leaned forward again, his lips grazing over hers, and then a buzzing started, freezing him solid. “Ignore that,” he muttered, kissing her hard and pushing against her until her back hit the door.

Violet gasped into the ferocity of the kiss, feeling his teeth scrape along the seam of her lips until she gave in and his tongue struck against hers. The buzzing of his phone eventually stopped, but only after his hands had found their way up the skirt of her dress and fisted into her panties. Kaz was just attempting to pull the panties down her thighs—rough enough to sting—when the buzzing started again. “Fuck,” he swore severely, pulling away and reaching for the device in his pocket. Before Violet could even think to move, Kaz was back on her, gray eyes boring into hers, lips curved into a wicked smirk, and then his mouth was at her ear. “I’m going to have to take this, but while I do …” Violet’s hand grabbed his leather belt, wanting to keep him close. A shudder worked its way over her skin when he continued with, “While I do, you get your ass to my bed and be naked by the time I get in there, yes?” She couldn’t even fucking speak.

The phone buzzed again. “Violet, yes?” Something was dark in his tone—his words had an edge she hadn’t quite heard him use before. And maybe that worried her a little because she wanted to know what caused it and why. But maybe the sound of it turned her on a hell of a lot, too. “Yes,” she said. “Go.” Violet didn’t wait around to be told again; she simply pushed off the door the second Kaz lifted the phone to his ear with a snarled, “What the fuck do you want?” She felt just the faintest graze of his fingertips slide along the curve of her backside over her dress as she bolted for the back hallway that would lead to the bedroom. On her way, Violet began shedding the few bits of clothing she had on, leaving them to lay wherever they fell from her hands. If nothing else, Kaz would have a trail to follow, not that he’d need one to find her.

She probably should have asked about things the first moment she could. Like why she was back in New York. Her father. His father. Everything. Right then, with the sensation of his gaze still lingering on her body as she stepped into the shadows of the hallway, she really didn’t give a single fuck. He’d said the bed, but Violet went to the windows first, a goddamn nagging sensation working its way into her chest as she grabbed the slightly opened curtains and yanked them closed. There would be no more pictures. Not again. Behind her, somewhere in the apartment, she could hear Kaz’s murmurings. Sharp, heated Russian words. He spoke far too fast for her to pull even a single word out of his conversation that she might understand. Not even a name jumped out … Despite having taken off all of her clothes except her matching lace underwear set and the suede heeled boots—Kaz had asked for naked,

after all—Violet moved to the edge of the bed, sitting down to toe the heeled boots off and kick them aside. She hadn’t even straightened back up completely before Kaz was darkening the doorway. And damn, was he a sight. In just a few short minutes, he looked like he’d walked a fucking mile to find what he wanted instead of the short distance of a room and a hallway to get to his bedroom. His tie was hanging loosely from his hand before it dropped to the floor and he took a step farther into the room. He’d unbuttoned his dress shirt. Although, guessing by the crumpled look of the silk, he’d actually just yanked it open instead of fussing over the buttons. And his belt was undone, his dress pants unbuttoned and unzipped, showcasing that hard V of his groin. Violet knew right then … there would be no softness between them that night, not like there usually was mixed in with the roughness of their fucking.

It was just that hard glint in his gaze as he looked her over, sliding that silk shirt off his shoulders and down his arms as he walked closer, that told her everything she needed to know. He missed her. Wanted her. Something was wrong, likely. He wouldn’t want to talk about it. She really didn’t mind. “I thought I said naked,” Kaz said, coming to stand in front of her at the edge of the bed. Violet chewed on her bottom lip, staring up at him. “I’m working on it.” “Not fast enough. I thought we went over this once—what I ask, you do.” “No, when you ask, I answer.” Kaz’s grin grew a little more sinful in the dimness of the bedroom. “Actually, you’re right. But we can work on the other thing, too, no?” His hand came up, palm cradling the side of her face, and his thumb stroking over the seam of her lips. The second time the pad of his thumb swept across her mouth, he stopped in the middle,

pressing down a little to part her lips without even speaking. Violet complied, opening her mouth just enough to take his digit in and suck, tasting the heat of his skin dragging along her tongue. She enjoyed nothing more than taking Kaz in her mouth when he demanded it of her. There was never a question, just his sharp words and a husky groan of her name that followed right behind as soon as her lips tightened around his cock. That was what she wanted then. That sight. His sounds. The taste of him in her mouth before and while he was fucking her. It was almost primal, and she loved it. She hadn’t even said a thing, but the way her gaze flicked down to his unzipped fly must have been enough because Kaz shoved his pants and boxer-briefs down just enough to free his already hard cock in his palm. He stroked himself with a tight fist, bruised knuckles turning nearly white. That low groan—husky and thick—she wanted

to hear was right on the tip of his tongue. Muscles tight and teeth clenched, he watched her from above. Violet’s stare wavered between Kaz’s face and his hand around his cock. He lifted a brow at her, almost mockingly. He knew exactly what she wanted, and he wasn’t going to give it to her. What I ask, you do. “Kaz—” “No,” he murmured. Violet blinked, and she pressed her lips together when his thumb swept across her mouth again. Kaz smiled just a little. “Open that pretty mouth for me, Violet.” “But—” “Open.” She did, letting him slide his thumb into her mouth once more before he withdrew the digit and ran it across her lips, leaving a trail of wetness. As slow as his hand had moved one second, it struck blindingly fast the next, fisting into the hair

at the nape of her neck and driving her forward, making her back straighten. Kaz flashed her another knowing grin as he slid the crest of his cock against the seam of her parted lips, never quite letting her have more than just the taste of her tongue sliding along the soft flesh of the tip. “If you think this is torture for you, krasivaya, just imagine how it feels for me,” he told her. Violet didn’t really have to imagine anything. She could see it in the tension crawling over his muscles, how his gaze flashed with lust, and the way his hand tightened in her hair a little bit more to hide the shake. Yeah, she knew. “Just a taste. Get me wet,” Kaz said, a thickness coloring his words, “but don’t make me come just yet.” Violet barely had time to prepare for his next move before he had let go of the base of his cock with his one hand, pushed at the back of her head with the other, and then grabbed under her throat as he filled her mouth. With his palm flat to her throat, Violet had no choice but to relax the muscles in her

throat as his length slid all the way in and then back out again. Her lips tightened around his cock, and her teeth grazed the pulsing vein along the underside of his shaft. Kaz chuckled, his fingertips drumming on her throat as he fucked her mouth. “Yeah, shit, I missed this.” But as quickly as he’d given her a taste, he was pulling away. Withdrawing his cock from her mouth, he released his hold on her throat and hair. He tipped his chin down at her, saying, “Take it all off—the rest of it. Get it off now.” Violet felt like it took her fingers way too long to unclasp the hooks on the back of her bra, never mind pulling the lace fabric off her body. By the time she was kicking the matching panties off, Kaz had already shed the remainder of his clothes and was kneeling down on the bed, forcing Violet back on her elbows. His mouth found hers—hot, demanding, and hard. She sucked in a shuddering breath when his hands spread her thighs. He hooked her legs around his hips, and his cock lined up perfectly to

her bare sex. One second he was there, and the next, he flexed forward, taking her fast and deep. That immediate sensation—being stretched and filled, even as wet and hot as she was—still ached. Violet only craved more, only asked for more. Kaz’s fingers threaded into the waves of her blonde hair, fisting tight and then tugging hard enough to make a sting radiate over her scalp as he urged her head back until the muscles in her throat protested with a burn. Another angled, brutal thrust of his hips filled her all over again, and made her cry out. His teeth found the cord on her neck, adding a sharp pain to the bliss currently lighting a fire through her nerves and over her skin. Her thoughts and wants came tumbling out in a mess of words. There and fuck and don’t stop because just a few fucking days were too fucking many with this man. Too. Fucking. Many. “Louder,” he rumbled against her throat. “Scream a little louder for me, Violet.”

Her hands fisted into the bedsheets, and she met him push for pull, nearly there but just barely hanging on. And as always, his words took her over that first cliff. Falling, breathless, and spun. Mine, Violet and every single inch of you is mine. Had she ever been anything different? She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been his now. Violet didn’t have time to crash down completely from the orgasm racing through her blood. She didn’t even have the chance to take a single breath before Kaz let out a harsh breath and pulled away from her again. She only saw a flash of his gray gaze before he spun her around, and her knees hit the bed, her ass high in the air. His arm linked around her legs, pulling her back until she heard his feet hit the floor almost soundlessly, and her knees rested on the very edge. “All mine,” he said, repeating his words from earlier.

Violet tried to catch her breath, running a hand through her messy hair so she could look over her shoulder. She caught sight of his hand coming forward a second before it snapped fast and hard along swell of her ass where it met her thigh. A whine caught in the back of her throat but died before it could escape, and only because the tips of his fingers stroked the same spot he’d smacked. Tender. Soft. Sweet. And then his other hand struck the other side of her ass, leaving it with a deep ache, too. “Jesus,” Violet groaned. “You trust me, don't you?” Violet only nodded. She didn’t think he needed words. Apparently, Kaz disagreed. “Violet.” His palm landed on her ass again, but that time it fell close enough that the tips of his fingers stroked along the tender, wet slit of her sex. Just as fast, two of his digits sunk in, curling hard and

making her scream from the shock of pleasure it caused. But when his fingers slipped out slowly and trailed a little higher, Violet tensed. It was a brief flicker of anxiety as Kaz’s fingers stroked the tight hole of her ass with insistent, firm circles. Never pushing in, his fingers only teased. “I need words for this, krasivaya.” Violet’s initial hesitance slipped away at the sensations beginning to crawl up and down her spine. Deep and burrowing, it twisted hot and heavy in the pit of her stomach, and she pushed back against his hand. “Yeah, Kaz.” The first finger was easy—tight and new—but good. His dark whispers fell across her back as he worked that one finger deep into Violet’s ass until that feeling intensified and she asked for more. More. It felt like that was becoming a mantra of sorts. But he gave her what she wanted, adding a

second finger to the tightening ring of muscles. It burned with a sting, and it ached like nothing she’d ever felt before. But as fast as those flickers of pain had come, they were fleeting, leaving behind a different kind of ache. New. So good. Kaz stilled his movements for only a second, but Violet was far too immersed in feeling to really pay attention to what he was even doing behind her. It was only when she felt the cool drip of something slick slide along his fingers buried deep in her ass did she realize what he had reached for in the nightstand. “Breathe, yeah?” he said quietly. “Don’t tense up too much—trust me and feel.” The last two things he demanded were easy enough. The others? Not so much. The cool sensation of the lube helped the sting for the brief moment when Kaz withdrew his fingers. She almost expected him to be right back,

but he was reaching for the nightstand again, and Violet did look that time, only to find he’d grabbed a condom. His hand swept over her backside once, then twice, and it settled reassuringly along the swell of her ass before his fingers dug in deep. That one shock of pain—something she hadn’t been expecting in his light touch—distracted her for just a passing second, and then she felt the head of his cock pressing into the tight hole of her ass. Still a bit tender from his fingers stretching her open, Violet sucked in a breath, holding it and tensing, waiting for that pain. It was inevitable. Even if for a short while … She knew it would come. Kaz’s fingers dug in again, his other hand tangled in the waves of her hair, and he tugged her head back. Violet chose to focus on those two things—the way his grip tightened, and his fingers bruised—and the sounds of his breaths coming out a little harsher as he started to push in. He was slow at first—careful, even—working

through that tight ring with measured thrusts and nothing too hard or fast. That pain still came—sharp and fast—making Violet stiffen and bite down hard enough on her bottom lip to draw blood. “Shhh,” she heard him say softly. His hand in her hair let go, his fingers trailing down the length of her spine until she relaxed. Her muscles loosened, and the pain was gone—or damn near. “Jesus Christ,” Kaz muttered heavily. Violet wanted to agree, but the sound that left her lips was nowhere near coherent. She was just vocalizing a mixture of pleasure and need, and nothing else. If he wanted words, she was fucking out of them. Again, his fingers stroked her skin. “It’s going to be a little faster—harder— now,” he told her. “Please.” Kaz only chuckled, as if he knew exactly how she felt and just what to do about it.

The withdraw came a hell of a lot easier than that first thrust had. It felt like he was raking over every single one of her nerves but in the best way. There was still that sting. That strange newness. That too-full sensation. But still … “More,” Violet whimpered. Oh, Kaz gave her that—pulling out near to the tip and then thrusting right back in, almost sending her off balance with the force. That ache burrowed deeper—the want clawed higher. The second her muscles relaxed again, he didn’t hesitate, beginning a brutal rhythm that was sure to leave her sore but satisfied come morning. His fingers found her hair again, his other meeting the junction of her shoulder and neck to grab tight and yank her back to meet every flex of his hips. That fleeting moment of slowness and softness was gone. Violet didn't even care. She came faster the second time.

Harder. Violently. Crying into messy bedsheets and biting down on her own knuckles, she fought to find a goddamn breath because she couldn’t even breathe. And it was fucking wonderful.

There was something about the quiet moments, after everything had calmed and when nothing but silence and ease was left. And after the last few days, that was all Kaz wanted. Between trying to find Vasily while simultaneously staying one step ahead of whatever he was planning—he severely doubted his father would walk away quietly—he was fucking exhausted. But this was what he had prepared for. Rooting through the slacks he’d left abandoned on the floor in his haste some hours ago, he grabbed a cigarette and lighter, inhaling the burning

nicotine the moment it lit. But it wasn’t nearly as calming as it usually was because he still had too much to do. “What are you thinking about?” Violet asked with wide expressive eyes, bunching the pillow beneath her head as she turned to better face him. Looking down at her, he felt at peace. “That I missed you.” “Really? Because as long as you were gone, I might have forgotten that.” “It was necessary,” Kaz said after blowing out a stream of smoke. “But you’re here now, yes?” “But for how long?” Before Vasily had taken off, he would have never taken the chance of bringing her back here, but now that he was no longer the hunted, Kaz didn’t feel the need to keep her hidden away. “For however long you want,” Kaz said, thinking of what he had left locked away in his desk across the hall. He intended to give it to her tonight but was waiting for the right moment. “What’s the plan now?” There was a lot to be done—a lot of meetings

and sit-downs to be held—but none of that really involved Violet directly. Kaz didn’t doubt that Alberto knew they were both back, so the man’s absence was answer enough. He also didn’t doubt that Alberto would try to send anyone he could to drag her back to his side. And he wasn’t having that happen. Maybe there was no better time than the present ... He left her staring after him to head to his office. Yanking one of the drawers open, he grabbed the small box inside, turning the thing over in his hands as he headed back to Violet. The minute he was back in the room, her gaze strayed to him and then down to what he was holding. Seeing it, she sat up a little straighter, dragging the sheet up to her chest as she did. “Kaz, what—” “Some things have changed since I’ve been back,” he started to explain, knowing he just needed to lay it all out there for her to hear. “Vasily has gone off the grid, and as of now, no one can find him.” “You will,” she said with all the conviction in

the world. He nodded. “It’s only a matter of time.” Violet was quiet for a moment before asking, “But what does that have to do with that?” “I’m only boss in action, not in title,” Kaz explained. “With Vasily gone, I’m free to take his seat, but while that guarantees me a certain respect from the Bratva, it doesn’t for you. Don’t misunderstand. If I ever hear someone speak a bad word about you, I’ll cut out their tongue, but as things stand, you are still the daughter of a man my people want dead.” The muscle in her throat worked as she swallowed, and he caught that look of apprehension on her face before she could turn away. Kaz wasn’t going to pretend with her—not when there was no way to soften the fact that her father was a dead man walking anytime he left the safety of his home. He had never doubted that she wouldn’t take it well—Alberto was her father, after all, and she loved the man—but the only thing he could hope was that she would allow him to try

to lessen her pain. “But Russians and Italians … we’re not so different, no? We both honor the sanctity of marriage and all it stands for. So if you became my wife—” “Then I’ll go from being Alberto’s daughter to your wife,” she finished, not betraying a single emotion as she did. Not sure how she was feeling about that, Kaz added, “At the very least, no one would dare try to take the wife of an enemy unless they wanted to start a war.” And if Alberto tried, it would be a bloody fucking day. “So this is about my protection?” Scrubbing a hand down his face, Kaz didn’t answer. Not right away. He wanted to pick his words carefully. “It is about your protection, Violet, but that’s not the only reason. Ya tebya lyublya, Violet. You know that—I’ve made no secret of that fact to anyone. I’m not trying to marry you because it would be convenient, but because I want to.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath the first time he said ‘marry,’ but he needed to finish. He wanted her to understand that it was for them first, and everyone else was a distant second. Flipping the lid of the box up, he crossed the floor, holding it out for her. “So are you going to make this easy on me?” Her eyes were fixated on the oval diamond, one he had agonized over for two fucking hours, before she looked at him with stark emotion in her face. “Ask.” Losing the playful note to his voice, Kaz asked her the question that had plagued him since the moment he knew she was the one. “Violet, will you marry me?”

Violet’s eye caught the glittering oval diamond adorning her left hand a second before Kaz’s fingers curled around her jean-clad thigh and squeezed. That was enough to stop her from staring for the moment—something she hadn’t really stopped doing since he’d slid the ring down her finger with one of his signature smiles. “Are you still irritated with me?” he asked, never taking his eye off the road. “When did I say I was angry with you?” Kaz chuckled. “You didn’t, but it’s easy to tell when a woman has a … certain attitude first thing

in the morning.” Violet passed him a look. “I’m about to catch an attitude.” His grin only grew. “My point, thank you.” “Is this about what I said—you being gone?” “Yes,” Kaz replied. “A phone call would have been nice.” “What would I have said—that nothing was as it needed to be?” Violet frowned. “Hello—you could have said hello.” “You’re right.” She hadn’t expected him to just come out with that omission, but she was grateful for it. “Next time, call,” Violet said. “I worried.” Kaz only nodded. She took that as a battle won. His hand only left her thigh for long enough to grab the wheel and take a sharp turn before it was right back in place, holding tight. “Tell me,” Kaz started to say, “did Konstantin behave himself?” Violet almost laughed.

Almost. Kaz had posed the question with barely a smile and a dullness to his words. Yet an edge lingered right behind all the same. “Define behave,” Violet murmured. His grip on her thigh squeezed a little harder, making Violet laugh. “Don’t get me wrong,” Kaz said almost conversationally, “because I do like Konstantin a great deal—old friends and all that are hard to keep loyal. But if he tried any of his crazy nonsense—even jokingly—I don’t mind making a quick trip back to Chicago. I could be back before the night was even out. Don’t test me on that. I really don’t mind.” Not once had Kaz looked away from the road. Not once had his expression wavered from his cool, calm appearance. Violet reached over and patted Kaz on the cheek with her hand, feeling the scruff of his facial hair tickle her fingertips. “He behaved.” Kaz smirked. “Good.” “With me,” she added, considering Amelia.

“What does that mean?” Violet quickly recapped the whole Amelia situation. She was vague because, frankly, she didn’t know much at all, and Konstantin hadn’t offered any explanations when she asked. Kaz laughed when Violet finished. “Ah, his problem, yes?” “Pardon?” “He said he had a problem to take care of— nothing else. Seems like an easy problem to take care of if he wanted to.” Violet swallowed back the lump in her throat. “You can’t mean—” “Killing her? Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. She may be just a girl, but she is just a girl with a father who came into their territory and threatened them. She is just a girl who comes from the same family you come from. She is just a girl, Violet, but she is not just a girl at the same time.” “Oh.” “Mmm,” Kaz hummed noncommittally. “As I said, it seems like an easy problem to handle, and he’s not handled it yet, which means good things.”

“Good things,” Violet echoed. “I think so.” Violet wasn't quite sure what to make of any of that, so she’d hope for the best, even if she seriously doubted Amelia gave a single shit about her. History was what it was, after all. Sometimes, it just went bad. Kaz let go of Violet’s thigh again to grab the wheel as he turned on the blinker and smoothly pulled the car into a free parking space at the end of a street. He’d not explained much about their plans for the day, but Violet was happy to follow along blindly anyway. She’d missed him. Did it need a better explanation than that? Turning in the seat, Kaz reached up to stroke her cheekbone softly. “This—your friend—is one of those things you’ll have to put aside and forget about, Violet. It’s not like you have any say what happens now.” “That sounds cruel.” “Of you or of me?”

“Maybe both,” she said. Kaz sighed. “You’re right—it is. And this is just one thing, but trust that there will be more times, more people. But for right now, you and I are going to visit a friend’s restaurant and have a nice lunch together because there’s nothing else to do, and we have something to celebrate. Yes?” Violet didn’t think it was that simple or easy, but she knew Kaz had a point. “Fine,” Violet agreed. Kaz turned away, stepping out of the car and rounding the front. Violet had just put her hand on the door handle when Kaz pulled her door open, a hand already outstretched to take hers. Stepping out onto the street, Violet looked around, recognizing a bit. Nearly mid-Brooklyn, she was pretty certain it would never be okayed from the Italians that the Russians were this far into their territory, if even for nothing more than a dinner that had nothing to do with business. “Should we be this far up in Brooklyn?” Kaz didn’t even blink. “Why shouldn’t we be?”

Well, then … Violet smiled when Kaz pulled her closer to his side and walked them down the street toward a restaurant with a modern décor on the outside and a large front deck with seating for those who wanted to dine outside. It was too cold for that, though. “A week?” Kaz asked out of the blue. Violet’s brow furrowed. “A week for what?” “Do you need a week to plan something for a wedding?” She damn near stumbled in her step, but Kaz’s stronghold kept her moving and on two feet at the same time. “That’s a bit soon.” “No, it really isn’t.” Violet tried not to sigh and failed. “Kaz, be serious.” “I am. The longer we wait, the higher the chances become that something might happen. I want you protected, and this is one of the best ways I can do that for you.” “And you want to,” she said teasingly. Kaz kissed the top of her head. “And there’s

that, yes. Do you really want to wait, krasivaya?” Violet smiled. “Two weeks—maybe three.” “Maybe three,” he agreed quietly. “It’s not like we have a lot to do, right?” Kaz didn’t respond. Violet supposed his silence was enough of an answer. Who exactly would they invite? Who would stand for them? Who would celebrate? Silently, Kaz’s hand slipped up from her side to tangle in her hair. He kissed the top of her head again, keeping her close as he murmured, “As long as you are happy, then nothing else is important, Violet.” “And what about you? Shouldn’t you be happy, too?” Kaz laughed. “You should already know the answer to that.” Violet did. She made him happy. And that was enough. Kaz let go of Violet’s hair only to place a hand

at the small of her back as they rounded the steps of the restaurant. “A friend owns this?” she asked. “An old friend.” “It looks nice.” “Do not give Alfie too many compliments; he’s the kind of man who lets them go to his head,” Kaz muttered. Violet only rolled her eyes in response, but it was hard to tell if Kaz was joking with his serious tone. Inside, the restaurant bustled with movement and chatter. The modern design of the outside reflected on the interior as well. At the entrance, a woman stood behind a black podium. A Bluetooth earpiece buzzed on the podium, but the woman didn’t bother to pick it up and put it in her ear as she looked up at Violet and Kaz’s approach. “Mr. Markovic,” the woman greeted, smiling widely. “Alfie didn’t mention you’d be coming in today.” Kaz passed Violet a look. “No business today. Is there a table open?”

“I can open one for you, of course.” Violet couldn’t help the tiniest flare of jealousy that started somewhere in her stomach and quickly jumped up her throat at the way the woman so casually and sweetly chatted away with Kaz as she flipped through pages on her tablet. Never once did she look at Violet. Violet must have not been hiding her displeasure very well because Kaz snatched her hand in his own, his thumb sweeping over the oval engagement ring a second before he lifted her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles. “Stop,” he murmured against her skin. Violet acted like he hadn’t said a thing but smiled all the same when the woman’s gaze snapped between the ring on Violet’s finger and Kaz, whose attention was gone from the conversation altogether. “If you don’t mind being closer to the kitchen —” “Violet?” That voice … Violet didn’t want to cause a scene in an

unfamiliar place, never mind one that Kaz clearly frequented for more reasons than just the food. So instead of ignoring the person calling her name, or spinning fast on her heel to face them, she turned slowly, offering a smile as she did. “Nicole,” Violet said. Nicole Carracci looked like a block of beautifully carved ice as her cold, blue gaze took Violet in, and then moved to Kaz, before dropping down to their connected hands. “I was told you were in Chicago,” Nicole said coolly. Kaz stiffened at Violet’s side. He had to know who the woman was, or at least, he should remember her from that night at the club all those months ago. Still, he stayed quiet. “I was,” Violet settled on saying. “But here you are now,” Nicole replied, gaze narrowing. “I’m sure your brother and father would appreciate seeing you, given you just … up and left without a word.” Violet didn't bat a lash at the silent accusation

in Nicole’s tone and words. “Oh, don’t worry. They’re not stupid men—they knew.” Kaz’s tension softened a bit, but he’d moved just a couple of inches closer to Violet. She appreciated he was letting her handle the situation, but she wasn’t sure how much longer that would last. “It’s too bad, though,” Nicole said. “What is?” Her former friend held up a hand, showing off a gold band encrusted with diamonds and an engagement ring to match. Violet’s throat dried as she struggled for a response. She hadn’t been gone that damn long for Nicole to get married. Then again, she’d barely paid attention to her family or their going-ons and only put forth the bare minimum of effort and care when she was forced to before Kaz was released. “You missed the wedding—Carmine would have loved to have you there,” Nicole said, passing Kaz a disdainful glare.

That time, Violet did react in a way she normally wouldn't. By scoffing. Loud and hard. “Right. I’m sure my brother minded that I missed his special day,” Violet said. Her sarcasm couldn’t be contained. Even Kaz smirked but hid it by glancing away. Violet wasn’t done quite yet, though. “But hey, good for you, Nicole. You finally got what you wanted from my brother, right?” Nicole’s cold smile melted away, leaving a scowl in its place. “You’re the only one who seems to have forgotten what famiglia is, Violet. So while you have your fun and cause a mess, the rest of us still have a duty to do.” Because that was all Nicole would ever be to Carmine. Just a duty. A wife. Proper. Acceptable. Respectable. It didn’t have to be for love. He didn’t even have to like her.

Only the rest of la famiglia had to do those things. “I’ll let your father know you’re back in town,” Nicole said, buttoning up her trench coat. “I’m sure he’d love to know I saw you here.” Kaz finally decided to step in, clearly having decided that he’d heard enough. Of course, he didn’t do it in the way Violet expected. Like earlier with the too-nice woman at the podium, he simply lifted Violet’s hand with his own, making sure that ring on her finger was clearly visible, and brushed her knuckles with a kiss. Nicole’s gaze caught the ring, narrowing. “Do that,” Kaz said simply. Nicole turned on her heel and left the restaurant without another word or even a look over her shoulder. Strangely, Violet felt better after her old friend was gone. But not entirely. Kaz had yet to relax. “I’m starting to think—as much as I enjoy Alfie’s restaurant—that he might have his hands in too many pots.”

Violet’s brow furrowed. “What?” “Nothing.” A throat cleared behind them, drawing their attention back to the woman standing behind the podium. She looked a little more wary than she had before when she said, “If you’re ready, the table is open for you.” Kaz looked at Violet and then offered the woman an apologetic smile. “Not today—another time.” Violet didn’t understand. “Why can’t we eat?” Instead of answering, he put a hand on her lower back and guided her out of the restaurant and down the few steps to the sidewalk. Only when a few passersby were long gone out of earshot did Kaz say, “How long do you think that girl was out of the restaurant before she had your brother—or better, your father—on the phone? No, we’re not going to stand around and wait for someone to come make a scene.” Ah. “I’m still hungry,” Violet muttered. Kaz nodded. “How about the diner?”

She didn’t even have to ask which one he was talking about. “Okay,” she agreed. “Kazimir?” Kaz’s head lifted at the call of his name, a smile quickly growing as he took in the woman coming down the steps of the restaurant toward them. Violet recognized the woman instantly, though she’d only met her once, and it hadn’t exactly been a good meeting. Vera Markovic. “Vera,” Kaz greeted. Vera gave Violet a quick look and a tight smile before turning her attention solely on her brother. “Rus said you were back in town.” “Trying to keep quiet, yeah?” “I can see why,” Vera replied. While she didn’t look at Violet, there was no doubt in her mind Vera was talking about her. Kaz tugged Violet a little closer to his side. “Be nice.” “Be careful,” Vera shot back. “Ma’s having a fit, you know.”

“I can’t help what Vasily did.” “You should go see her, maybe.” Kaz’s thumb swept back and forth over Violet’s back, soothing and calm. “I will. What are you doing around here?” Vera raised a brow, shrugging. “Seeing a friend.” Why did it feel like the whole conversation between Kaz and Vera was laced with things Violet had no clue about? “Visit Ma,” Vera repeated. “I will,” Kaz assured. “Soon.” Vera nodded at Violet’s hand resting on Kaz’s arm, her gaze zoning in on the engagement ring. “And don’t forget to tell her about that, brother.”

Times had changed since Kaz was back at his family’s seaside mansion. It’d been almost a year, if he thought about it, and he could see the passage

of time. There was a distinct lack of cars in the driveway, only the one Mercedes his mother favored. Driving up the cobblestone, he parked beside the car, killing the engine as he glanced over at Violet. “Breathe. They’ll love you.” Irina Markovic was nothing if not respectful. It didn’t matter whether she disliked someone or not. She put on a proper face and played the part, but while Kaz felt confident that his mother and sisters would like her just fine, under the current circumstances, he wasn’t sure what he would find on the other side of that front door. But they would need to get past it because Violet wasn’t going anywhere. After going around to her side and opening her door, the pair walked the short distance up the flight of stairs where Kaz then rang the doorbell and waited. It wasn’t long before the door was swinging open with Nika standing on the other side. She looked tired, resigned to whoever she would find standing there, but when she caught

sight of Kaz, her face split into a grin as she threw her arms around him, nearly taking him back a step. Before he could fully appreciate the moment, she was stepping back and slapping him in the chest. “Ma’s been worried sick about you! You just leave and don’t say anything. We thought you were dead, asshole. Why—” In the middle of her tirade, she finally seemed to notice that Kaz wasn’t alone. “Is this her?” “Violet, meet my sister, Nika. Nika, this is Violet.” “Huh … you’re prettier than I was expecting.” “Don’t start,” Kaz muttered low, his words in Russian and meant only for Nika to hear. “What?” Nika responded in kind. “I meant it as a compliment.” Sometimes, she had a tendency to come across as rude even when she didn’t mean to. “Where’s Mom?” “Where she usually is,” Nika mumbled as she finally moved to the side to let them in. Glancing back at Violet to see how she was handling all this, he gave her a squeeze before

leading the way inside, following behind Nika. The place was just as clean as he remembered, the floor polished and gleaming with fresh flowers in vases around the room. At first glance, everything looked the same. But Kaz could see what was beneath the surface. Irina made a habit of rearranging the rooms, constantly changing the décor to fit whatever mood she was in, but everything he saw had been in place the last time he was there—like it had all come to a standstill. “Ma?” Nika called out once she cleared the doorway to the kitchen. “Kaz is here, and he brought Violet.” Irina Markovic sat at the dining room table, a mug of coffee cupped in her hands, and her gaze trained on the windows beside her. For just a moment, though she tried to hide it, he saw the fear and worry in her eyes. Realizing almost belatedly that she wasn’t alone, Irina quickly set down her cup and got to her feet, smoothing her already perfect hair. “Kazimir,

what have I told you about just showing up?” she chided him, even as she came forward to cup his face, kissing both his cheeks. “You know better.” “I was worried about you,” he said by way of an answer, not bothering to mention Vasily or Vera. “You should be. Who doesn’t visit their mother in months?” She didn’t mention his time in jail. She probably never would. “I’m here now. That should count for something, no?” Irina’s gaze flitted to Violet, but unlike his sister’s, hers remained unexcited. “Violet Gallucci, I presume.” Violet was quick with a smile, releasing Kaz’s hand to offer it to her. “Yes, very nice to meet you.” Irina accepted her hand without question, a pleasant smile spreading, at least until she glanced down and saw the ring adorning her finger. Like any woman who turned her cheek to her husband’s dealings, his mother gave no outward reaction. Releasing her hand, Irina asked, “How long are you two staying? Dina should be home soon,

and I’m sure she would love to see you.” Glancing at Violet, he tried to gauge her reaction to his mother’s words. “We’ve got time.” “Excellent. Nika, would you mind getting Violet something to drink? We’ll be along in a moment.” Nika didn’t hesitate to turn away and follow their mother’s orders, but Violet hesitated at his side. It wasn’t lost on her that Irina was doing this so she and Kaz could speak alone, especially since it came right after Irina saw the ring. “I won’t be long,” he said in her ear as she walked by him, heading in the same direction Nika had taken. Once they were out of sight, Irina lost the mask. All the anger, frustration, and fear she had been feeling over the last few months came pouring out. “Kazimir, what have you done?” “Ma—” “Don’t. Have you any idea what you’ve caused?” Kaz reminded himself that this was his mother, and she was feeling the effects of the chaos around

them too. “Nothing that wasn’t already in motion long before Violet stepped foot in Rus’ club. None of this is any fault of mine. Vasily didn’t take off because of her. He took off because of what he did.” Irina shook her head, looking far more frustrated than she had moments prior. “You were just a boy back then, Kazimir. You have no idea what Gavrill was like when he wasn’t playing the part. He loved you boys, but he was a tyrant on the best of days.” Kaz blinked in surprise, but not because of anything she said, but because of what she didn’t say. “You knew. You knew what Vasily did.” “Does she not know the moves you make, Kazimir?” “Don’t turn this on me. He—” “Was doing the same thing you’re doing now,” Irina said. As she stared at him, he realized it wasn’t anger in her eyes but sadness. “I make no excuses for who your father became after what he did, but don’t pretend your motives aren’t just as selfish as his were. He wanted that seat and was

willing to do anything to get it. You want that girl and look at what you’re doing, Kazimir—ready to tear your own family apart and spill the blood of innocents to keep her.” Kaz was rarely struck quiet, but his mother very rarely, if ever, raised her voice to anyone— and whether she realized it or not, she was yelling loud enough for the entire house to hear. But he didn’t quiet her. And he didn’t know why. “Whether you want to believe it or not, we both know the truth.” Not able to help himself, though he knew he wouldn’t like the answer, Kaz asked, “And what’s that?” Irina shook her head, disappointment clear. “You are your father’s son.”

“Oh, no,” Kaz said, his gaze moving back and forth between the object on the edge of the counter and Violet’s confused expression. “This can’t be had, krasivaya.” “I can’t help—” “I do not give you a weapon for you to put it down and say you can’t use it. That’s not how that works, Violet.” “Well, I don’t know how!” Kaz just looked exasperated. “How … how on earth can you possibly not know how to work a gun?”

“I just … don’t,” she finished lamely. “This can’t be had,” Kaz repeated, although it was more to himself that time. Violet, still confused as fuck, watched as he pushed away from the counter and snatched his cell phone he’d discarded while he was pouring coffee. Still muttering, albeit in Russian, he typed in a number, turned his back to her, and put the phone to his ear. She barely heard the faint murmur of someone answering before Kaz said, “What are you doing today, brat?” Violet hesitated, almost positive she knew that word meant “brother.” “Well, un-plan. I need something,” Kaz said. “Be here in twenty.” Kaz hung up the call and spun around to face Violet. For a long moment, he just stared at her. “What?” she finally asked, unnerved by his watching. “I have to do something today. Rus will teach you.” “Teach me—what?”

“Guns,” Kaz explained. “He’s a good teacher. He has patience when others don’t.” That was that. Not even an hour and a half later, Violet followed behind Ruslan Markovic as he opened the rusted, dented metal door of what appeared to be a shoddy, run-down warehouse. Something dripped down from the hallway ceiling, and she squeaked when the water—Jesus, she hoped it was water—hit her shoulder. Ruslan only laughed. “What, does this place offend your sensibilities, princess?” Violet tried not to glare … and failed. “I feel like just looking at the door earned me the need for a tetanus shot.” “Cute. Let’s go. Watch your step.” Violet did as she was told, noticing how every few feet down the hallway, the floor dropped off a few inches. Like very large steps. And then they weren’t in a hallway at all, but standing at the mouth of a large warehouse with a dirt floor, weapons of all kind lining the walls, and lights high above.

The strange security panel Violet had watched Ruslan punch numbers into on the outside of the building finally made sense. She had thought it odd a place that seemed so old and unused would need any kind of security. What could possibly be hidden inside to keep safe? Guns, apparently. Many guns. “Pretty, isn't it?” Ruslan asked, noting the look of wonder on Violet’s face. “I don’t know if that’s the word I would use.” “You’ve seen guns before, yes?” “Not this many.” “But you have,” he pressed. Violet stared him straight on. “You might be surprised to learn this, but before I met Kaz, I had never even heard a gunshot before.” “Huh.” That was all he said. Huh. “Is that surprising?” she asked. Ruslan shrugged. “No, more interesting than

anything. Didn’t your father have guns in his house?” “One—I saw it in his office. I don’t know about others. I never noticed.” “You never noticed because he didn’t have them,” Ruslan replied just as fast. “Believe me, they’re hard to miss when you're the kind of man who needs one close by.” He waved at one of the many walls lined with all sorts of weaponry. “Pick a handgun. Might as well choose one you like because you’ll be taking it with you. The semantics of guns are essentially the same—load the clip, take the safety off, cock the hammer, and then the trigger. Simple.” Violet still didn’t understand why she needed to know this at all. “What if I said I didn’t like guns?” “Then this will be a lot harder on you than it needs to be. It’s non-negotiable. Pick a gun.” Ruslan was not like Kaz, Violet was learning. Kaz said he had more patience, but she didn't think that was true at all. Or maybe it was the fact Violet had an entirely different relationship with

Kaz than she did with Ruslan. She didn't know the oldest Markovic brother all that well to begin with. Clearly, Ruslan was not going to handle this situation with kid gloves. Or Violet, for that matter. Still hesitant, Violet moved toward the rows of guns when Ruslan waved at her as if he was shooing a frightened little dog away from his massive form. She looked over the wall that seemed to house the majority of the handguns, and she didn’t have a fucking clue what she was looking at. When she reached for a particular one that was rather long with a brushed steel finish, Ruslan cleared his throat, stopping her attempt to grab the weapon. Glancing over her shoulder, she asked, “What?” “Not the Eagle. It’s got about ten pounds of weight you can’t handle, not to mention the kickback. Something smaller—try again.” “But I like that one.”

“And I bet you like not having a sprained wrist, too,” Ruslan replied, sounding bored. “Pick a different one.” Frustrated, Violet turned back to the guns. “Why don't you just tell me which one to pick?” “Third row down, fourth gun on the wall—all black.” Violet pointed at the one she thought he meant, looking back to see Ruslan nod. She grabbed the gun off the rack and stepped back, feeling the weight of it in her palms and running her thumb over the grip on the butt. “It’s a nine millimeter,” Ruslan explained, coming to stand beside her. “Common weapon for police, but it’s also easy to handle, simple to shoot, has good accuracy, and it won’t break your wrist when you fire it.” She had no clue what he was talking about mostly, but he’d said simple. She could probably do simple. “Am I going to just … shoot at that stuff over there?” Violet asked, pointing at the rows of targets set up at the other end of the long warehouse.

Ruslan chuckled. “No. Now, you’re going to learn. Then, and only then, will you shoot.” Fun. Violet wasn't entirely sure it would be. For the next two hours, Violet learned how to disassemble, clean, reassemble, and load the nine millimeter Ruslan had told her to choose. After the fifth time of taking the gun apart, her hands were goddamn tired, and she was bored. But he just looked at her from the side, his hands still tinkering with a gun he’d taken off the wall, and said, “Again.” That was it. Again. By the tenth time, Violet was starting to understand why. The more she touched the gun, the more she asked about the different pieces and how things worked, and the more comfortable she felt holding it and possibly using it. She wasn't sure if that was because she understood the weapon—because she didn’t think she understood it at all—or because Ruslan was purposefully desensitizing her to handling it.

Either way, it was smart on his part. Maybe she understood what Kaz meant when he said Ruslan was a good teacher. “Shouldn’t I have those ear things and safety glasses on?” Violet asked. Ruslan looked at her as if she’d grown two heads in the span of seconds. “God, why?” Standing at the table about seventy feet from the targets made of paper with human-like forms painted on, Violet waved at the gun and bullets. “Because isn’t that, oh, I don’t know, safe?” “No offense—I mean, take all the offense— but you’re not going to be wearing ear and eye protection when you shoot someone in the face,” Ruslan said, smiling in the oddest way. “You’re patronizing me,” Violet accused. “I am. Load the clip. Let me know when you’re ready.” Still a little nervous, Violet shook the feeling off and did what she’d spent the last two hours learning how to do. It took no time at all for her to fill the clips with bullets and slide it into the butt of the gun until that audible, distinctive click

sounded. Not even bothering to wait for Ruslan’s okay, she flicked off the safety and cocked the hammer. “Do you want to just stand there and think about it for a while or go for it?” Ruslan asked. Violet gave him a dirty look. “You can stop that at any time.” “No patronizing this time. I’m serious. The first time is going to be loud, you might close your eyes, though you should drop that before it becomes a habit, and your wrists might ache a little afterward. Hold it tight, keep it straight, and try not to flinch. That’s all. Take your time.” Strangely, she appreciated his advice. And gone from his face was that almost snide smile. He only looked at her, waiting. “Loud, huh?” Violet asked. “It doesn't help that we’re inside, but yes, it’s loud. It’ll lessen. The first one is a shock.” Violet pursed her lips, curious. “How old were you the first time you shot a gun?” “Ten … ish,” he added, chuckling. “That seems young.”

“It was. Enough about me.” Taking a deep breath, Violet faced the targets and lifted the gun to aim, holding it tight with a two-handed grip the way Ruslan had showed her. Still, she hesitated before wrapping a finger around the trigger. “All the time in the w—” Violet pulled the trigger, and Ruslan had been right. Entirely right. She hadn’t been expecting the volume of the gunshot to be as loud as it was, and it made her both flinch and close her eyes. She hadn’t realized, despite being repeatedly warned to keep a stronghold on the gun no matter what, that the kickback on a small caliber, yet still powerful, weapon would be as strong as it was. Strong enough to bend her wrists back slightly and cause a bit of an ache. Violet damn near dropped the gun on the table, but somehow, managed to easily set it down with shaking hands. “I’m not doing that again,” she said.

Ruslan sighed. “Yes, you are.” “No—” “Non-negotiable. Pick it up. Do it again.” Violet glared at the gun, both angry and a little scared that it had surprised and frightened her. “I don’t see why I even need to have one.” “Because Kaz wants you to learn.” “But—” “You’ve been coddled a great deal, no?” Ruslan asked. Violet blinked, stunned. “I beg your pardon?” “Your father—his people. Even my brother, to an extent. They coddle you.” Her hackles raised instantly. “I don’t think that’s the right word.” “I think it fits just fine. And here’s the thing—I won’t coddle you. Pick the gun up, and let’s do it again. The more you do it, the easier it will be. This is important, despite how you may feel differently, and you need to learn. You can make that easy, or I can make it really hard.” Violet almost had the nerve to ask exactly how Ruslan could make this whole experience harder

than he already had, but she decided not to poke his monster when he was clearly playing nice for the moment. “Fine,” she mumbled unhappily, picking the gun up again. “Try one more time,” he ordered. Strangely, Ruslan was right again. It was easier the second time. It wasn’t as harsh. It wasn’t as shocking or frightening. She knew what to expect. Each round fired off a bit easier than the last until she knew the clip had only one bullet left to shoot. “You’re a decent shot,” Ruslan praised, peering down at the target Violet had been aiming at. Even she had to admit she’d done pretty well. Most of the rounds either hit the target paper or directly near it. Seemed her aim leaned a bit to the left. “But not one kill shot,” Ruslan added quieter. “Trust me when I say you want the kill shot. When

someone is coming at you and you only have the one chance to end it, you need to make that shot every time. Understand?” “Practice?” “Maybe …” “Ma—” Violet’s words cut off as a distinctive snap echoed, and she glanced away from the targets, looking at Ruslan who was aiming the gun he’d been fiddling with on and off directly at the side of her head. Her world froze in that split second. She wasn’t entirely sure why. It was like every inch of her body, all the parts of her, suddenly zoned in on the barrel of the gun she was looking down. Her heart stuttered in its beats before leaping into her throat and lodging there. Her fists clenched tighter around her own gun pointed down at the table, and her back straightened. “How easy this would be,” Ruslan murmured softly. “And it would be easy, Violet. All it would take was pulling the trigger and so many things just

… go away. Maybe then my father would make his way back to where he should be, and my selfish bastard of a brother would pull his head out of his ass, hmm?” Violet swallowed hard, unsure and wary in her heart. She did not know this man at all. Not that she knew the version of him she’d been chatting with all morning, either. “You wouldn’t,” Violet said. Ruslan smiled, cold and fleeting. “You have no idea. Now, you have one round left in your gun. I’d like for you to fire it.” Violet, somehow in her fear, managed to sneer. “Afraid I might turn it on you?” “You’d be dead before you blinked. Do as I said. Try for that kill shot this time.” Ignoring the shake in her breath and the slight tremor in her hands, Violet didn’t see how she had much of a choice but to do what Ruslan wanted, given his gun was still cocked and pointed at her head. So she did what he wanted. And when she aimed …

Her breaths came slower. Her hands steadied. Gaze zoned in … She didn’t even feel the kickback that final time. Ruslan looked to the side just as the bullet ripped through the chest of the paper human down the way. Silently, he lowered his gun, hitting the button on the side to release the clip. It fell out on the table, empty. “You don’t know me very well,” Ruslan said, never looking back at Violet, “but if you did, you’d know everything I said was a lie. I can’t stand my father, and I like him a great deal more when he’s gone, but I think I would love him if he were dead. As for Kaz—well, love is never selfish, Violet, no matter its form.” Violet just stared at Ruslan, more unsure than she had ever been in her life. “Seems fear works in your favor, though,” he continued. “You would have hit your target in the heart. Near instant death when it exploded in their chest. Ironic, yes?”

Though his last conversation with his mother hadn’t gone as planned, Kaz gave her a day to calm down before he returned, alone, to tell her of the wedding and details. She still wasn’t happy with him, but at least, her anger had cooled. And if he knew one thing, despite her uneasiness as to who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, Kaz knew that his mother would still attend that day. Irina was still his mother, after all, and despite his hatred for his father, Kaz loved his mother. His sisters, Dina and Nika, however, were fucking thrilled because a wedding meant shopping. He couldn’t even say for sure whether they were happy for him or just glad to be out of the house and happily swiping his damn card. But since they were out with Violet, that would at least give them a chance to talk to her and learn who she was.

He couldn’t ask for more than that. Kaz, on the other hand, was working on his side of the guest list. There was not enough time to invite everyone—his family was extensive—but he needed at least a dozen key figures in attendance. There was the Boykov family in Chicago— Konstantin having agreed quite readily and Kolya mumbling an affirmative before he hung up. Of course, he would also invite the highestranking members of the Bratva, and a few others from neighboring states who he hadn’t talked to in ages due to their relationship with Vasily. By the time he was on his way across town, Kaz had gotten all the answers he wanted … except for one. Alfie Shelby. Though he was notorious for playing both sides of the field, never allowing his loyalty to show for any one man, Kaz still considered the man a close friend. But in his newly appointed position, he wasn’t so sure that the way things stood now could go on for much longer. It was different when Vasily was in the seat—

he refused to do business with Alfie because of his neutral stance, but Kaz hadn’t cared. And even now, he still didn’t, but the men who worked under him wouldn’t stand for it, no matter how powerful Alfie was. “Welcome home, Kazimir,” Alfie said from his position behind his desk. “It’s good to see you, mate.” “You too, Alfie,” Kaz returned as he clasped the man’s hand in his own before taking a seat. “I hear congratulations are in order.” It shouldn’t have surprised him that Alfie knew about the wedding—there was very little that the man didn’t know. Even still, he doubted Violet had shared the news with anyone just yet, and he had only informed a select number of people, none of whom did business with Alfie. “Who told you?” Alfie waved his hand in the air as though the answer was insignificant. “A little dove, but that’s not important at the moment, is it? You’re here to discuss business, eh? Let’s discuss.” “We’ve done good business together,” Kaz

said, tapping his fingers against the arm of his seat. “One-point-two million last quarter because of that arms deal, but who’s counting?” He didn’t doubt the proceeds were as high as Alfie said—no one could do numbers like him. “And you understand why I can’t have my business tied with those who would try to take it from me.” “Right, because you’re the—fucking hell, what’s the name your people call it—pakhan?” Alfie wasn’t a man who was careful with his words so as not to offend—most of the time he was trying to offend someone—but Kaz had learned it was just that accent of his, Cockney he thought it was called. So he knew better than to let Alfie’s words get to him, but he could already tell by the way the other man was sitting a little straighter that his temper was flaring. “I am. You know what that means.” Alfie rubbed his jaw. “I know fuck all about your politics, mate—and I don’t care to know. Whatever feud you lot have against the other means nothing to me.” Alfie rested an elbow on his desk, pointing at Kaz. “Because while you two fuck

about, money is lost in the process.” “But as you said,” Kaz spoke up, already feeling that rush of annoyance overtake him. “That has fuck all to do with you.” “Yet there you sit, in my fucking chair like a big man, expecting me to sever business arrangements for the sake of your fucking vendetta.” The tension in the room was escalating, to the point that before he knew it, Kaz was on his feet. “There comes a time when you have to pick sides, Alfie.” “Fuck off,” Alfie returned, slowly rising from his chair, his eyes blazing as he laid his fists against the wood. “Even if I were, who’s to say I’m picking your fucking side, Kazimir? The only thing your Bratva has shown me over the last year is that you care more about domestic bullshit than how to conduct business. I expected it from that cunt you call a father, but you were supposed to be better than that, yet here you stand.” “Don’t insult me again. You won’t like how I answer.”

Whether he considered Alfie a friend was immaterial—it was a lesson Kaz had to learn. Respect was earned, not given. And if he wanted to keep it, that meant never letting someone insult him without consequence. “And what exactly would you do about it? Run off to that fucking brother of yours, though I think he knows how to better handle a cock before a gun. Or maybe to the fucking Gallucci you have warming your bed—perhaps she’ll be worth more in name besides what she can do with her mou—” Kaz had his gun out and pointed at Alfie’s face before he could finish the sentence. “Finish,” he said, his gaze never straying from Alfie. “Give me the opportunity to show you what it truly means to not give a fuck who you have to kill when it comes to the woman you love. Test me.” No one, and he truly meant no one, pulled a gun on Alfie and lived to tell about it. He took the action as an act of war. “This meeting can end one of two ways,” Kaz went on, aim never wavering. “Either we sit and discuss the new business arrangements between us

if you agree to sever your ties with the Gallucci family, or I can leave and sever our own. We can either remain partners, or I’ll leave with you as my enemy, and they don’t last long. Make your choice.” Alfie neither moved nor spoke, his expression unreadable. After another heartbeat of silence, Kaz was sure he had his answer, but then Alfie smiled. “Then let’s discuss.” Only Alfie could remain unbothered that a gun was in his face. As Kaz put his gun away and took a seat, he remembered something Alfie had once told him around the time they met. He respected the bold.

Being twenty-one—almost twenty-two— Violet figured she could handle sixteen-year-old twins. Surely. She had been sixteen not that long ago, after all. She was wrong. Dina and Nika Markovic were like identical hurricanes when focused on something in particular, especially if that something was shopping, apparently. “Gold and black?” Nika asked.

“Classic,” Dina replied. Violet was tempted to hide behind the display cabinet of vases as she said, “Less basic, please.” “Basic?” The word had been practically screeched— though it came from two different tenors. Despite how identical the twins were, they had subtle differences. One was a bit shorter, if only by a half an inch. The other had a habit of cocking her eyebrow even when she didn’t realize she was doing it. And their voices—they each had their own unique sound. That, however, was about as far as it went. “Black and gold are great,” Violet said, “if this was going to be a huge event in a giant hall that needed an entire overhaul to fit the day, but it’s not.” Nika pouted—Dina scowled. “And black is … dark,” Violet settled on saying. “Black is classy,” Dina shot back. “Elegant,” Nika put in. Violet sighed, knowing she should pick her

battles wisely, and chose to go a different route. “What colors would your mother enjoy?” Both twins perked at that question. “Cream, probably,” Nika said. Dina only nodded in agreement. Violet could do cream. “Black and cream, then.” She barely even got the sentence out of her mouth, and the twins were already spinning on their heels. Dina went straight back to the displays of linens, and Nika headed for the centerpiece display. It was going to be a long day. She liked the Markovic twins, to be sure, but she hadn’t quite realized how much effort went into planning even a small event, never mind with a pair of twin hellions determined to break their brother’s credit card. Violet shook her head, knowing the twins probably wouldn’t even hear her as she said, “I’m going to step outside for a minute and ... get something from the car.” Or take a break.

Yes, a break sounded perfect. As she suspected, neither of the twins said a thing in response. Violet left the boutique with her head down, already digging through her purse to find her cell phone that had probably fallen to the very bottom. Her hand had just grabbed a hold of the device as she bumped straight into a hard, tall form. She didn’t know why, but she knew who it was without even looking up. Maybe it was because of the way his pocket-handkerchief folded into three peaks when most people just chose a simple square. Maybe it was the familiar cologne he wore and had used for the majority of her life. Or maybe it was his chuckles at her lack of attention. Soft and amused, but still unsurprised and dry. Her father. “Violet,” Alberto murmured. Instinctively, Violet took a giant step back as her head snapped up to stare her father straight in the face. Old habits were hard to break, and that was never more evident than when she replied,

“Hello, Daddy.” But even as she spoke, Violet was looking for a way out of the situation. She glanced back at the boutique she’d just left, knowing damn well two very important people inside needed to stay there, out of sight and safe from whatever might happen next. It wasn’t an option to draw attention to the twins, so she couldn’t go back inside. Her car was parked alongside the street just a few spots down from where her father stood, but she was pretty damn sure her father wasn’t going to just let her pass. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Alberto asked, lifting a hand toward the sky. Snowflakes drifted down slowly around them. It felt like time slowed for that split second. “It’s cold,” Violet finally said. What else could she say? Alberto’s sharp gaze swept the street, down beyond Violet’s spot, then to the side, and after he had looked across the street, his attention was back on her. “How was Chicago, topina?” Little mouse.

He’d called her that for years. More than she cared to count. But it didn’t quite feel the same. Violet chose not to answer, as his question felt like bait, and she wouldn’t be the fool who got stuck on that proverbial hook. Alberto didn’t seem to mind. “Your … Russian has quite a way about him, doesn’t he?” She did blink that time, unsure of what Alberto was implying. “What is that supposed to mean?” Holding up a hand, her father ticked off fingers. One, then two, three, four, five, and finally, the sixth on his other hand. “Six,” he said quietly. Violet forced back the lump in her throat. “I don’t under—” “I don’t expect you to,” Alberto interrupted, sharper than before. “If there was anything I tried to do as your father—being who I was in the position that I was—it was making sure your head was thoroughly buried in the sand when it came to business. You didn’t need to understand or see,

don’t you understand? It would do no man any good to have a wife who was a little too nosy—too curious.” She swallowed hard, eyes darting behind her father to the man casually walking up the street, hands tossed in his pockets and his head down. “And yet,” her father continued, gaining her attention once more, “here you are, Violet. My curious little thing—sunny like the brightest day, lighting up everyone’s lives, hmm?” It took every fucking ounce of control Violet had not to react to the way her father posed his statement so innocently, like it wouldn’t and didn’t mean a damn thing. Except it did. He meant his words to soften her, she knew. He meant to remind her of a relationship she’d once thought she had with this man, only to learn it was not as rosy pink as she’d once thought it was. Alberto’s gaze dropped to Violet’s hand clenching around the straps of her bag. She knew exactly what he was staring at—her engagement ring.

Somehow, she managed to stand a little bit straighter. “Six,” Alberto repeated, “six men dead because of what you have done with that Russian, and possibly a seventh soul, but we don’t know about Amelia.” Violet froze on the spot, finally understanding what her father had been alluding. Strangely, the urge to stare her father in the eye to show she was unaffected by his words rose up hard and swift. “And what am I supposed to do about that?” Alberto went in a different direction, sort of. “I should have quelled that curious desire of yours back when you were younger,” Alberto said softly, never looking away from the ring. “But I thought it was sweet how your curiosity bled into everything around you, no matter what you did. I thought—stupidly—rules would be enough. That, if I repeated them often enough, you would hear them.” “I did hear them,” she whispered. “Heeding, however, is an entirely different matter.”

He was right. She didn’t even bother to deny it. Sighing, Alberto finally glanced away from the engagement ring she wore to stare her in the eyes again. He offered her a slight smile, though it felt cold and untrue. “I hope this taught you something today,” he said. Violet’s brow furrowed. “What could you have possibly taught me?” “You’re never invisible to me, Violet. No matter how fast you run, or where you try to hide, I will always find you; I can’t help but see you, dolcezza, as you’re too sunny to hide in the shadows like that Russian of yours. You’re impossible to miss. Today, I might not be able to do much—too public—but that day will come.” She sucked in a hard breath, refusing to bite the chain her father offered. “I’m happy,” she told him. Maybe she thought appealing to the side of Alberto Gallucci that was softer than the side he showed to run his family would get her further.

Maybe she hoped he would see her words were the truth. Violet wasn’t stupid, though. The very moment she said her truth, she was well aware it fell on deaf ears. She was no longer just Alberto’s daughter. She had lost what sympathy and affection he afforded her when she disobeyed him, when she betrayed him. And she wasn’t even sorry. Alberto’s expression didn’t waver in the slightest. “Yet I’m not.” Violet didn’t even know what to say to that statement. Apparently, her father wasn’t looking for a response. Alberto turned on his heel, glancing once over his shoulder, his stare dropping to the ring on her finger again. “Nothing, darling, and I do mean nothing, is unfixable. You only have to ask.” Before she could respond, Alberto stepped out onto the street, holding a hand high to wave at the car that slowed to let him cross the road. Violet

watched her father go until he disappeared around a building and was out of sight. It didn’t matter. All of the sudden, it seemed she couldn’t breathe.

One week blended into the next as the wedding quickly approached. Despite the short time period, things had come together rather well, thanks in part to the overzealous females in his family. And now that the Chicago family had flown in, he had spent very little time with Violet as they kept her so busy. But that was for the best, he thought, since Vasily had yet to show his face. The last thing he needed was for Vasily to make a grand appearance at the wedding. He didn’t want anything to ruin that day for Violet.

Kaz would do everything in his power to make it a good day for her, even if it wasn’t going to be everything of her dreams. It just wasn’t possible with their time crunch. It was one reason why he was concerned by the current expression on her face. Since the day she had gone out shopping with his sisters, she’d had this look, one he hadn’t been able to read. Not quite sure what to make of it, he had elected to give her some time, knowing just how much everything was changing. He understood it was a lot to undertake in such a short period of time, so he didn’t want to add more stress. But it had gone on too long now. “What’s on your mind?” he asked looking over in her direction. Violet was scanning through a book of wedding things that Vera had given her. He thought they were on linens for the tables. “I’m wondering how your sister keeps track of all this,” she said, gesturing to her lap. “Even I don’t remember half the things I’ve already agreed

to.” “She probably has it filed away somewhere.” Vera liked things in a particular order. “But this isn’t what I mean.” Carefully sliding the book off her legs, he closed it and put it off to the side. “Why do you have that look on your face?” Tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear, she asked, “What look?” “Like you’ve seen a ghost,” Kaz answered, his gaze darting over her face. “Let me guess … Carmine or Alberto?” “Alberto.” She was quick to go on when she saw his frown. “He didn’t say anything, not much anyway.” “But whatever he did say is worrying you, no?” “What if he does come for me, even if we’re married? Have you considered that?” He had, more than once. Though his concentration had focused mostly on Vasily, Kaz didn’t doubt that he had yet to feel the full weight of Alberto Gallucci’s anger. He and Kaz’s father

wouldn’t just go calmly into the night. “I have, but you have to understand that it won’t be nearly as easy as he may think it. It would be foolish for him to risk a war, not just with us, but with the Chicago family as well. Things were different when no one stood at my back.” “I worry about that,” she said softly. “The day my father tries to take me from you. Because he won’t care that I have your last name.” “There’s no reason to worry yourself with that. I have it under control.” Straddling his lap, she looked down at him with a slight smile. “I know.” “Then enjoy this time,” Kaz said softly. “You’re only getting married once.” And he was going to make sure it was memorable.

Constant movement surrounded a stone-still

Violet. The shuffle of chiffon. The sweep of silk. Jewelry was handed over, necklaces clasped, and earrings placed properly. The hairdresser who was taking care of the girls moved from one woman to the other, fine-tooth comb in hand to smooth back any stray strands. The woman—a friend of Vera’s, apparently—who had come in to handle the makeup worked on fixing the smudge of lipstick on the left side of Dina’s mouth. Still, Violet stood frozen. It almost seemed surreal. Girls spent a good majority of their life considering their wedding day—what it would mean and how it would happen. She had been one of those girls. Yet here it was. And there she was. Not dressed, though her hair and makeup were done, watching the excited twins dress and Vera fuss. Violet thought it might be a little sad,

considering she was without any of her family or their acceptance, but it wasn’t that at all. She was ready. And that was the most surprising thing of it all. “Ready?” Violet blinked, snapping out of her daze. Vera stood in front of her, a garment bag slung over her arm. She had been ready for this for a while, but she didn’t think that was what Vera was asking. “You’ve only got another fifteen minutes, and we have to leave,” Vera said. “Let’s get your dress on.” “Sure,” Violet said. She followed Vera into a private room just off from the main sitting area of the hotel suite. With the door safely closed behind them, Vera laid the garment bag out and unzipped it to expose rushes of vintage styled lace in a soft cream color. For a second, Violet simply stared at the dress as Vera pulled it out with careful hands. She’d shopped for it alone, even though Vera had offered and the twins had practically begged to help her pick one out. It wasn’t that she didn’t want

them there, or that she didn’t appreciate their willingness to be involved in the wedding and the details, but it was just … Something Violet wanted to do alone. Picking out the dress had been surprisingly easy once she found it. A backless, form-fitted lace number that showcased skin and curves with every turn. Dangling ropes of pearls that hung down from the small straps around the shoulders and framed the wide-open back only added to the charm of the gown. It was not Catholic ceremony approved. It would be too daring—a little too free and sinful. But Violet thought it was perfect. It was also the first time Vera had seen the dress as she helped Violet slip into it. “Huh,” Vera said under her breath, taking a step back to admire the gown with soft eyes. Violet ran a hand over the skirt of the dress that just began to flare below her hips, but not too drastically that it would put the gown into the mermaid style. It was elegant; the lace hugged her

hips and then fell smoothly to the floor. “What?” Violet asked after Vera quieted. Vera’s gaze snapped up to meet hers. “It’s a beautiful dress. I’m sure Kaz will love it.” Violet smiled but didn’t respond. Kaz enjoying the dress was just about the only thing Violet had cared about when she’d purchased it. No one else’s opinions were important, though she appreciated the compliment from Vera. “I swore …” Vera trailed off, smile fading just a bit. “Keep going.” “I swore you’d go for something pretty— maybe even princess-y.” Violet smirked. “Something safe?” Vera tipped her head to the side slightly, not bothering to hide her appreciation in the slightest. “Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, no? This is …” She knew exactly what it was. Violet turned to face the large mirror, her hand coming up to rest at her bare throat. The only jewelry she’d opted to wear for the day were a

pair of sparkling, dangling diamond earrings with pearls resting on the ends to match the ropes of pearls on the gown. “It’s perfect,” Violet said. “How much longer now?” “Not very long.”

“Have you truly thought this through?” Konstantin asked from his position next to his brother with a tumbler of amber liquid in one hand. Kaz stood staring at his reflection in the mirror as he arranged his bowtie. Today was the day, and waking up this morning, he had felt the change in the air. The wedding had yet to happen, but he already felt different—more complete almost. “It’s a little late for that, innit?” The question came from Alfie, who was sitting off to the side, dressed as though attending a proper English

wedding. A top hat rested on his knee, and he held a cane with the head of a lion in his hands. “Here we are.” “But binding yourself to one female for the rest of your life … sounds awful.” And Konstantin did truly look sick at the thought. “Perhaps you should have voiced these concerns before today,” Rus added. “Let the man enjoy it.” Kaz was doing just that. No one was going to ruin this day—not for him or Violet. He had placed extra security measures just to make sure no uninvited guests made an appearance. He had also made sure to have it indoors, just in case. By the time he finished with his attire, it was nearly time for the ceremony to begin, but before it did, he wanted to make his rounds of the room— make sure he expressed the right amount of gratitude for the people who had chosen to attend. It was his job, after all. “Let’s go.” Kaz was the first to walk out of the room, the

others following behind. The distance from the room in which he got ready to the private ballroom he had rented for the day was a short one, and waiting for him outside the double doors was Irina, Maya, and another woman who Kaz had never seen before. Though he hadn’t spoken to his mother since the day after she found out about the engagement, he wasn’t surprised to find her here. Unlike that day, she had no trace of stress in her features today —she looked rather happy. Weddings did that to people. “Look at my boys,” she said with motherly affection, straightening Kaz’s bowtie then smoothing a hand over one of Rus’s lapels. “I couldn’t have asked for better sons.” Kaz readied to respond, but the woman who had been standing with his mother snared his attention. She looked out of place almost, at least until Rus offered her his hand, and she willingly, and quite happily, accepted it. “You haven’t met Kira, have you?” Irina asked, smiling fondly. “She’s Ruslan’s date.”

Kaz didn’t bother to try to keep the surprise off his face as he looked at his brother, a silent question in his eyes. Rus, who didn’t seem bothered in the slightest of the attention now on him, shrugged. “My tastes aren’t singular.” Kaz wasn’t touching that. Not even a little. What his brother chose to do—or rather who he chose to do—was his business. “Let me walk you to your seat, Mama,” Kaz said offering her his arm. Once the doors opened, revealing the winter wonderland on the other side, the guests stood. It was only after he walked his mother to the front of the aisle did Kaz go back to make his rounds, making sure he spoke to every single person in the room. Then he went back to the front of the room, his hands in his pockets, and waited.

“Oh, here let me fix that,” Vera said, batting Violet’s hand away from her face. Quickly, Vera pinned the birdcage veil back in place properly, bent down to fluff the bottom of Violet’s gown, and then stood straight with a wink. “Smile, Violet.” She did, staring beyond Vera to the closed double doors that separated Violet from her present and her future. A blissful one, surely. An uncertain one, maybe. But it was there.

And maybe she wanted to pull the doors open before it was time. “You good?” Vera asked. “I’m going to go grab my seat with Ma.” Violet nodded. “Wonderful. I’m great.” “Okay.” “Thank you.” Vera stilled, her fluttering fingers fixing the rose pinned at the shoulder of her dress. For a long second, the two women simply stared at one another. Violet broke the silence. “For everything, Vera. I know you have reservations about—” “You make him happy,” Vera interrupted softly. “The rest will work itself out. That is all that matters to me, Violet.” She respected that more than Vera knew. “Go grab your seat so we can get this started,” Violet said, grinning a little wider. Almost time … Vera fussed over Dina and Nika’s matching silk and chiffon gowns, making sure to tell them to behave. She then disappeared behind the double

doors, taking special care not to let anyone see who was waiting behind them. Still, Violet had managed a tiny peek. Her heart stuttered in its beats, and her hands tightened around the bouquet of cream-colored roses she held. While the nerves were heavy in her stomach, she knew it was more about the people who would be watching the wedding and ceremony than the day itself. She didn’t know them—barely any of them—and she had a slight clue that those who knew her had already formed opinions about her and Kaz and their day. But … Kaz’s voice was louder than her nerves. Enjoy your day. You’re only getting married once. Just thinking about Kaz was soothing to Violet —calming, even. So all those worries she’d had leading up to their day and all the concerns eating at her and making her look over her shoulder suddenly drifted away.

She suspected they’d be back, but for that moment, they were gone. This day wasn’t about those things—it was about them. And they were far too good to be wrong. Lifting her gaze back to the doors again, Violet waited. Shortly after, Canon in D began to play, the melody of the tune keyed by a pianist behind the double doors. “Go,” Nika said. Dina shot a wink over her shoulder and headed for the double doors. Like her older sister, Dina slipped through the doors without opening them too much and exposing Violet and Nika. Violet counted in her head—fifteen seconds exactly—and the tempo of the music changed at a specific point. Nika gave a fleeting smile over her shoulder and followed behind her sister. Violet waited. Even the sound of the music seemed to bleed away for those twenty or so seconds that she stood there waiting. She’d always thought her father would be

waiting with her at this point in her life, but strangely, she was happy that he wasn't. He would never have given her those seconds in peace—those quiet moments just before those doors were pulled wide open. She would have focused on whatever her father would have said, caught up in some strange mixture of happiness and sadness at being given away. Instead, her attention was on the doors. So when they opened, all she saw was Kaz. She’d barely even heard the change in the piano, the melody changing from the previous song to another she’d chosen for her walk. She didn't really hear the sounds of guests standing from their chairs as she moved in full view, standing in the doorway. The unfamiliar faces were simply blurs in her vision as she began to walk toward the one person whose attention was entirely on her. She knew more people were watching than just Kaz. More people were looking.

But while they were looking at her, she was only staring back at him. His suit was a black-on-black ensemble tailored perfectly to his form, not that Violet expected anything less. He’d been fiddling with the gold cufflink on his right sleeve when the doors had opened, and he’d froze like that, slightly turned, hand at his wrist, and his gray gaze on her. The sexiest of smiles curved his lips at the edges, and Violet couldn’t help but grin back beneath the birdcage veil. She still didn’t see the people. The music didn’t really register, either. It was just Kaz, the satin lined aisle, and her walking forward. Violet figured that visual was more appropriate than anyone could ever possibly know. She’d always choose to walk toward him— she’d already done that several times over. There was no walking away. There would never be any walking away. It seemed like a blink and Violet was at the end of the satin lined aisle.

Kaz stretched his hand out, reaching for her. She didn’t hesitate to take it. He’d always been hers.

Weddings were fucking exhausting. That wasn’t to say Kaz wasn’t enjoying this time with Violet—he was—but he was ready to get out of his fucking suit and get on with his night. From the moment he’d said ‘I do’ and pressed a lingering kiss to Violet’s mouth, they were bombarded by people. He hadn’t minded at first, sharing their moment with everyone else. He was even glad that she seemed to be having a good time in the midst of his family and associates. But as the night waned on, he was ready for everyone else to disappear. All it had taken was her sitting forward beside him, offering a tantalizing view down the length of

her back, the dress stopping just above the swell of her ass. It was just a glimpse, enough to prevent his thoughts from going anywhere beyond how quickly he would get that dress off her. The ballroom had its own bathroom, separate from the rest in the hotel, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a room across from it. And with the thought of that room in mind, his gaze shifted over the crowd, spotting Violet sharing a dance with his brother. She looked happy. Carefree. He wanted to see that look on her face for the rest of his life. Abandoning the table, he crossed the floor to her. Rus caught sight of him first, murmuring something in Violet’s ear before he stepped away —probably in search of his date. Drawing her closer, he captured her hand in his, wrapping his other arm around her and contenting himself, if only momentarily, with the feel of her skin beneath his hand. Looking down at her, he smiled. “Are you

happy?” “Absolutely.” Though this was a celebration for them, many of the guests were talking amongst each other, networking. Kaz didn’t mind, not for what he was trying to do. “How much longer will this go on?” She laughed lightly. “We haven’t even eaten dinner yet.” For fuck’s sake. “When is that?” “Not for another thirty minutes, but—” It wasn’t a lot of time, that thirty minutes, but it would do. Interlocking their fingers, he led her through the throng of people toward the back of the room where the office was. It was used mostly as storage for extra glassware and whatever else the hotel needed for this space. “Why are we in here?” Violet asked the minute he got both of them in the room with the door shut. He intended to answer her question, but first, he made quick work of removing the jacket to his

tux and tossing it across the back of a chair. She knew his intentions; he could tell from her sharp intake of breath and the way her gaze shot down to his trousers. “I’m in my wedding dress,” she said, though it sounded like a poor excuse to him. “And I want to keep it.” Already working on the buttons of his shirt, he merely gave a nod of his head and said, “Then take it off.” But she didn’t. She just stared at him, or rather at his chest, as though she had never seen his tattoos before. Captivated, he always thought. But he rather liked that look on her. “Do you want to know what these stars mean?” he asked, remembering that he had never explained the significance of the ink that marked his skin. Crossing the floor before she could even answer, Kaz put his hands on her hips, spinning her slowly as he searched for the hidden zipper. With such delicate straps, he knew something had to hold that thing in place.

Crouching down, he found the tab and gave it a sharp tug as he dragged it down, revealing the delicate lace beneath. Where most women would wear white for their wedding night, Violet didn’t— she wore red. “Take it off.” She did as he commanded, the dress pooling at her feet as she slipped it off her shoulders. Knowing that she would still need to be back in it shortly, he put it off to the side. When he turned back to her, she was now facing him, every bit his fucking weakness as she stood there in nothing more than a scrap of lace and heels. A sight that had his cock hardening further. Violet offered him a cunning smile. She knew the effect she was having on him. “Your stars, tell me about them.” “I got them when I was twenty-one,” he said as he backed her up against the wall, enjoying the way her lips parted as she drew in a breath. Cradling her face, he kissed her once, twice, waiting for that moment when she started seeking

him out, wanting more, and when it came, he allowed it just long enough for him to get his hand wrapped in the silky fall of her hair. Making a fist, he pulled, drawing her lips off his as she gasped in shock, her back arching. “I had to learn how to take orders,” he whispered as he drifted his other hand down her heated skin, feeling the body tremor rolling through her. But stopping at the edge of her panties, he didn’t delve inside, even knowing he would find her hot and slippery. Instead, he ran his fingers over it, feeling her through the material. And fuck if he couldn’t feel her arousal against his fingers soaking through. “It took a while—I had no patience for that shit.” Rubbing languid circles on her clit, he asked, “And how patient can you be, krasivaya? Will you wait to come until I give you permission? Are you going to be good for me?” The shuddering moan that left her lips made his heart kick up a bit. She’d always been so fucking responsive, and he loved it.

But she knew he needed more than that—she knew he needed her words. “Come now. Tell me what I want to hear.” “Yes.” “Yes, what?” Her hips bucked into his touch. Her eyes squeezed shut. Getting her off was like a fucking drug, a need that rode him desperately, but he wasn’t finished with her yet. “Yes, I can be patient.” “And once I finally learned to be patient,” he said moving right along with his story, as though he hadn’t had to drag an answer out of her. “I was rewarded.” Finally, he let his fingers slip under the lace, cursing low as he sought her out. He was always fucking amazed at how good she felt, but even better once he was inside her. Her pussy gripped him so fucking tightly that need shot through him. Her small hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he fucked her with his fingers, dragging her higher with each stroke, but he wasn’t ready for her to come yet.

Pulling his fingers free, he moved his hand back up, pressing his thumb against her clit, but didn’t move it, even as she tried to twist her hips to do it for him. “These stars mean I’m in control. Look at me.” Only when her eyes were on him, his own need reflected in their green depths, did he add, “That means when I give you a command, you obey.” “Kaz …” “Get on your knees.” She rushed to obey, looking up at him with wide eyes and expectation. “Take me out.” Dainty fingers tugged at his belt, practically ripping it open with her need to get his pants undone. When she had his cock in her hands, she didn’t hesitate to put her mouth on him. His head fell back as she swallowed his cock, sucking him hard and fast. Hand fisted in her hair, he guided her movements, quick on the up slide, slower as he pushed her back down, feeling the muscles in her throat contract around his cock. Her mouth could make him forget himself— made him feel like he could focus on nothing other

than the pleasure she was giving him. She just always looked so fucking into it. “That’s it. Take my cock.” And he wanted nothing more than to enjoy the sight of her just like that, but they didn’t have much time. And if he was going to come, he was coming inside her. Dragging her mouth off him, he pulled her up by her hair, releasing his hold once she was on her feet. With his hands now at her waist, he lifted her, her legs going around his waist. He was too far gone to focus on anything other than the feel of her wet slit against his cock. Fisting his cock, he rubbed the head against her clit, thrilling in the moans spilling from her. He meant to keep her there and tease her a little more, but as he drew back, he hadn’t been able to fight sinking into her as deep as he could. Violet’s answering moan made heat crawl down his spine. “Shh. You don’t want them to hear, yes? Be quiet.” He didn’t cover her mouth, not when he could watch her struggle to contain the noises she desperately wanted to make, even to the point she

was biting her lip. But even as he slammed into her, knowing that he didn’t want an audience, he couldn’t help goading her, pressing closer still as he thrust as deep as he could. “Is that what you want, Violet?” he asked in her ear. “You want them to hear you taking my cock?” His words were enough to make her go tight around him, a curse escaping him as he slapped his hand over her mouth, just as a keen whine came clawing out of her. But even as she came around him, he didn’t stop, pounding harder still, prolonging it. It just was not enough. Never enough. Tilting his hips to find a better angle, he lost himself in the squeeze of feminine muscles and muffled, broken moans. And as she tightened around him once more, the need he had been pushing back came rushing to the forefront. “Fuck, Violet! Take my—” But he didn’t get to finish his command before his balls were tightening and she was milking him

dry, taking everything he had to give and more. Coming back to earth, he carefully pulled out of her, rearranging his pants. It would take him a matter of moments to pull himself together, but she stood before him looking like she’d just been fucked. He still smiled.

Violet bowed her back off the bed, her fingers weaving tighter into Kaz’s hair as his hands pushed her thighs open even more. The ache it caused in her muscles was nothing compared to those jolts of pleasure coloring her vision with every flick of the broad side of his tongue against her clit. Every single morning since their wedding a few days before, he’d woken her up this way. Head between her thighs. Tongue on her clit. Fingers in her pussy. Goading her.

Demanding her. Promising her. Violet had already decided that she liked it. She liked it a whole lot. Kaz had a way with his mouth. He was cocksure and arrogant on his good days, but when he really put that mouth of his to use? On her? Fuck. Yeah. Violet sucked in a deep, hard breath as the familiar heat started to pool in her stomach and her muscles clenched all over. A low keening whine clawed its way from her throat, giving away just how close she was to shattering. And then his tongue left her clit, only for his mouth to replace it and the slightest nip of his teeth as he sucked against the throbbing nub. Just like that, Violet was gone. “Kaz!” He didn’t even back down as she shook and shouted her way through the orgasm. No, he kept sucking her, and then his tongue was back, turning her sensitivity up a notch or two with fast, brutal

jabs that left her gasping for breath. When he finally did stop, Violet’s throat was dry, and her fingers trembled in his hair. Kaz looked up at her, cocking a single brow and laying his scruffy cheek on her inner thigh. He gave her a sinful smirk that said he enjoyed this— maybe a little too much. Still, Violet sighed. Happy. Blissed. Content. Yeah, she didn’t mind doing this for the rest of her life. “Oh, my God—love that,” she mumbled. Kaz chuckled. “I’d make you get on your knees and return the favor, but …” He trailed off with a nod toward the clock on the bedside table. Violet scowled, silently refusing to move. Why should she move when he’d done this to her? She was perfectly happy right where she— “You’re going to be late for your appointment, and you’ve got a meeting with admissions at the

college at twelve. Get up,” Kaz said. Violet turned her scowl on him. “But I don’t want to move.” She let her fingers wander down the side of his face, stroking his jaw before skipping over his neck. Kaz only offered her a smile, and then he was pushing up from the bed and away from her. It was impossible to ignore the bulge in his boxer-briefs, but he’d already turned his back to her as he headed for the bathroom. Clearly, he was not going to indulge her this morning. Just as he disappeared into the bathroom, he turned back around, leveling her with a grin and a wink. “Next time, it’ll be a bucket of ice water instead of my tongue. Get up, Violet.” “Ass,” she uttered under her breath, sure he wouldn’t hear when he turned back to the bathroom. “But it’s a nice one.” Fuck. Violet was not a morning person, and she didn’t pretend to be. Kaz, on the other hand, would

wake up if the floorboard creaked, and he didn’t look worse for wear if he’d only slept a couple of hours. She took her sweet-ass time crawling out of bed, slipping into the shower just as Kaz stepped out with another one of his smug smiles, and then getting ready for the day. By the time she was ready to leave the apartment, he’d been in his office and on the phone for a good hour. Standing in the doorway of the office, Violet shifted her bag on her shoulder, waiting for Kaz to end his call. It was hard to tell if it was business or personal, given he spoke in Russian, and his features betrayed nothing. “I’m heading out,” she told him as he hung up the call. Kaz nodded, but his attention was on the screen of his laptop as he ran a finger over the mouse pad. “Don’t wander the streets, yes?” Violet’s brow furrowed. “It’d be easier if I just walked from the clinic to the admissions office. It’s not that far to the college. Like five blocks. It’ll take me longer to find a damn parking

spot.” “Violet,” he said, gazing turning on her. That was it—that was all he said. Just her name. And with that alone, she knew better than to argue because it wasn’t something he was going to debate. “Not that it matters,” Kaz added, going back to the laptop, “but I do have someone keeping an eye on you while you’re out, for reference.” Violet’s eyes narrowed. “Really?” “Safer.” “So someone is babysitting me? Who?” Kaz shrugged. “Someone—you won’t see him unless he needs you to. It’s non-negotiable, krasivaya.” “When will I not have a babysitter?” He stilled at the desk, eyes cutting to her again in a blink. “Never.” Well … What in the hell could she say about that?

It wasn’t even ten in the morning, and Kaz was already over the fucking day. Five minutes into his conversation with Boris, he found that the politics of being the boss would be what he hated most. It wasn’t as simple as going to a warehouse in the middle of the night and breaking their nose to get them to cooperate. Now he was expected to talk. Not even a full two months into his position and he was already over it. Once Violet was out the door, Kaz put the phone on speaker, tossing the device on his desk.

Boris was still droning on as Kaz grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them on. Back in his office, his gaze shot to his phone as another call popped up. It was a number he didn’t recognize, but nevertheless … “I have another call.” Clicking over before the other man could respond, he answered, “Kaz.” “I hear congratulations are in order.” Vasily. Kaz had given considerable thought to the day he finally crossed paths with his father. The tables had turned, after all, and with the Bratva at his back, he’d been ready for that day to come. After all, Kaz was no longer the one with a target on his back. It would have been simple. But as he heard his father’s amused voice over the line, he didn’t feel that sense of calm he thought he would. His skin was crawling. “You’re a dead man,” Kaz said even as he walked out of his office, going over to the window to look down at the street.

The car he had ordered to take her to her appointment was still idling at the curb, meaning Violet had yet to make it downstairs, but one glance at his watch told him that she should have already made it downstairs by now. Wait … Hadn’t she said something as she was leaving? “Have I taught you nothing, Kazimir?” Vasily asked, sounding like he was walking, the wind blowing. “You never leave a problem unsolved.” Going back to his office, he snatched a drawer open in his desk, grabbing the gun he had stashed. Not bothering with a shirt or shoes, he headed out the door. “Don’t worry,” Kaz said to Vasily as he jerked his head at his man down the hall to get his attention. “You won’t be a problem for long, Vasily.” Vasily’s laughter echoed even as Kaz pulled the phone away from his ear, staring the other man down. “Where’s Violet?” Recognizing that something was wrong, the

man frowned, looking at the service elevator. “She went down to the garage to grab something from the car before she was coming back in so she could leave, she said.” Why the fuck— Even as he brought the phone back to his ear, Kaz remembered then what she had been trying to tell him as she was leaving. It was with that thought that Kaz knew he fucked up. Vasily’s voice grabbed his attention again. “I’ve always hated this car of yours. What did you tell me after defying my order not to purchase it, hmm? You would do as you wanted. Perhaps it’s time I teach you a lesson in humility. It’s long overdue.” With that, Vasily hung up the call. Taking off for the stairs, Kaz practically flew down them in his haste to get downstairs. Having heard the name he had used, the soldier rushing to catch up was already making a call, sounding an alarm for nearly every Vor in the nearby vicinity. Blood rushing in his ears …

His heart racing … Kaz exploded out of the building, his gaze shooting to where he’d parked his car. The door hung open, and the alarm blared so loud it was like fucking nails on a chalkboard. “Kazimir!” She never called him that, not even when she was mad. To her, he was always Kaz or whatever pet name she was calling him at the moment. But the sound of her screaming out his name with raw fear in her voice made his stomach drop to his feet, even as he spun in the direction of her voice. A man wearing all black, two of them in fact, were wrestling her toward an idling, black van, practically dragging her across the cement, her nails leaving score marks as she fought for purchase. Her eyes were wide and frightened, tears spilling from them, and the sight of it set his blood on fire. His gun aimed at the man, Kaz fired off shots even as he took off across the parking lot. Kaz had never felt terror—not that all-

consuming emotion that made him feel like he was going to fucking die just from the rapid pace of his heart—but he felt it then. They were almost to the car … He had a few dozen feet … Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. One of the men grunted as a bullet slammed into his chest, sending him back a few steps, but he wasn’t the one Kaz fucking wanted. The other dragging Violet had never loosened his hold or faltered in step as the shots started going off. And he was now at the van. “No!” But it was too late. Violet’s screams echoed around the garage until the panel door slid closed. The sound of tires squealing became impossibly loud. Kaz was still running, refusing to slow until the van disappeared around the corner. There was no way he could catch them on foot—his fucking car.

Sprinting back, he didn’t remember until he was at his car that Violet had his keys. Her purse was on the ground, its contents scattered everywhere. Dropping down to his knees, he looked everywhere in a desperate attempt to find them, even as he counted the few seconds head start they had on him. “Boss—” “Where are my fucking keys? Find my fucking keys!” But when he couldn’t find them fast enough, Kaz was back on his feet, the blood rushing in his ears nearly blocking out everything around him. That terror fled as rage consumed him. Spinning to grab the soldier at his back by the shirt collar, he jerked him closer. “I don’t care who you have to kill, but I want her back. Tear this fucking city apart.” Shoving him away, Kaz hadn’t realized they were no longer alone. Rus was there, but even he took a step back in the face of Kaz’s rage. “We’ll get her back.” “You don’t know that shit,” Kaz fired back. “He would mail her back in fucking pieces if he

thought it would break me.” “He won’t.” He was about to lose his fucking mind. “What the fu—” “Zatknis’, Kazimir,” Rus snapped. “If he were going to kill her, he would have done it here—right here where you would have seen it. He took her. At the very least, you have time. If he called you beforehand, he'd call you again just to fuck with you. Now, reel your shit in.” “Gallucci.” “What?” Kaz thought of the man instantly. The two could have easily conspired this whole fucking thing, and that meant Alberto would know where she was. “Call Alfie,” Kaz commanded after taking a breath, starting back for his apartment, ignoring the sirens he could already hear in the distance. Rus frowned. “For what purpose?” Ejecting the clip, Kaz counted the bullets—or bullet, as it were—before sliding it back into place. “It’s time to pick a side.”

Her screams echoed in his ears the most. That blood-curdling yell that made his skin feel like it was crawling. Even hours later, it still made him anxious to the point he couldn’t sit still. Vasily had yet to call, nor did he answer the number he had called from before, but that did lead a little more credence to what Rus was trying to tell him. His father knew enough about keeping his hands clean, so if he were really planning to kill her, the phone would be turned off. But at the moment, Kaz didn’t care for a reason. He didn’t want there to be ifs and whens, he wanted an answer right fucking then, and if no one spoke quickly enough, he would get the answers himself. Rus was driving, looking over every so often. Even his lips were moving, probably words of

encouragement—or at least ones meant to calm him —but Kaz couldn’t hear anything, even when he looked and could see him speaking. It was as if everything had gone dark around him. He had lost his sun. But he would get her back if it was the last fucking thing he did. And it was for her that he would level the fucking city, starting with an impromptu meeting with his new father-in-law. “... and don’t do anything fucking stupid, Kaz,” Rus said, his voice filtering back in as they arrived at a restaurant in a part of the city where money bought silence and most people turned the other eye. It wasn’t a restaurant he often frequented— mainly because the Albanian syndicate that called this place home made it quite clear they weren’t willing to do business with outsiders. But it was, however, one of Alfie’s favorite meeting places. “I’m not going to do anything stupid,” Kaz said as he shoved the door open and climbed out,

his finger wrapped around the trigger of a pump action shotgun. “Nothing fucking stupid at all.” “Remember, you kill one of the Albanians, you earn a blood debt—and you know how they are about that shit.” Kaz did know. He just didn’t care. His men were already waiting for him, all ready for what he would do next. Shotgun resting on his shoulder, the doors were opened for Kaz as he walked in the narrow shop, all eyes turning to him. No one moved, nor did they speak as Kaz and the others came in—they had already been warned. A man standing near the back staircase nodded his head in its direction, a silent message that the men he was here for were upstairs. “I’m not sure how that would be profitable for me, Mr. Shelby.” Kaz could hear the muffled voice as he cleared the landing, heading for the office at the end of the hall. A few of Alberto’s men were standing outside the door. The moment they saw Kaz coming, they were reaching for their guns, but

they saw very quickly that they were outnumbered. “I care fuck all whether it’s profitable for you, mate. It’s the better business deal.” Alberto didn’t get a chance to respond to Alfie’s words, not when Kaz reared back and sent his foot flying against the door. The wood splintered as it shot open, slamming back against the wall and startling the three men seated—all except Alfie. He merely sat back. Pointing his gun at Alberto, Kaz’s aim didn’t falter. “Get up.” Alberto grew red in the face, his anger apparent as he swung his gaze around to Alfie. But if he thought a glare was enough to move the Brit, he was mistaken. “Bad luck, mate.” “This isn’t—” Shifting his aim just slightly, Kaz pulled the trigger, firing a round into the potted plant just behind Alberto. The vase exploded, sending bits of pottery and dirt flying everywhere. “The next one is in your knee, old man. Move.” This time, Alberto stood, though he kept his hands at his sides as opposed to raised high like

his son’s were in the seat next to him. Appearances, Kaz thought. Even if he did feel fear, he was man enough not to show it. Carmine, on the other hand … Kaz was walking after Alberto when Carmine called out, “You touch my fucking—” but his words were cut off when Rus slammed the butt of his own rifle into the man’s face. Once he was outside the office, Kaz’s men stripped him of everything besides his shirt and pants, leaving the rest on the floor behind them. With someone on either side of him, Alberto was unable to do anything but follow their direction Rus was behind them, and once they transferred into the van, he drove them away from the restaurant and toward a nearby drop spot. Once they were in place and Alberto was secure enough that he couldn’t move, Kaz placed his gun on the table and lit a cigarette. Alberto glared, his lips curled as he regarded him with thinly veiled disgust. “Just a boy playing a man.” Taking another drag of his cigarette, he

grabbed one of the folding chairs against the wall, dragging it back to set up in front of Alberto. Blowing the smoke out as he sat, Kaz asked the only question on his mind. “Who the fuck do you think I am?” “You—” Kaz shook his head with a frown. “You forgot a key lesson when you decided to become my father’s suka, Gallucci. I’m a Markovic, and we don’t lose. Now, you either tell me where the fuck Vasily is holding my wife, or I’ll show you what Gavrill would have done to you if he were here.” “You lack respect for authority, Kazimir. Had you been my boy, I would have killed you long before you caused me this much trouble.” Looking at one of the men in the room, Kaz pointed at Alberto. “Has he heard a fucking word I’m saying?” Then back to Alberto. “I don’t think you understand the tangled web you’ve stepped in, Gallucci. Or have you forgotten what Vasily was willing to do to his own brother?” And maybe that was a lesson Kaz should have thought of as well.

“You know who he is,” Kaz went on, not wanting to get trapped in his own head with his regrets. “You know what he’s capable of. Do you think he won’t hurt her to teach me a lesson?” That was the fear he had meant when talking to Rus hours ago. Her death would be too easy for him, but torturing her would prolong the pain. Alberto scoffed, looking away. “We have an arrangement.” “I don’t think you understand. But maybe I should help you with that.” Kaz ashed his cigarette. “When my brother was eighteen, Vasily had his lover kidnapped, flayed alive, and left the rest of him for his mother to find. You think you really know what Vasily is capable of?” That was enough to make Alberto jerk back, surprise lighting up his eyes, but he didn’t respond, and Kaz didn’t want him to. “It was a lesson, you see. Vasily wanted to make sure he understood that it was his way or no way at all. Then Rus had been his favorite—I never was. So if he was willing to do that to him, imagine what he would do to Violet to get back at

me.” And there it was. That moment of impending realization. Alberto didn’t have to have proof of the deed because what reason did Kaz have to lie? This wasn’t about him. “This isn’t over, Markovic. You—” “Where is she?” Kaz didn’t care about wars that would happen later on. The only reason he wasn’t putting a bullet in Alberto right then was because that would only interfere with him getting to Violet. He just needed an answer. “The Black Hall.” What the hell was that?

The van door slid shut with a damning click a second before Violet was slammed down to the floor of the vehicle. Her fingernails broke against metal as she fought for purchase, coming up with

nothing. “Let me—” Her words cut off when her face was slammed into the van’s floor. Apparently, her attacker wasn’t all that interested in tying her hands and legs up, considering the man grabbed her by the hair and picked her up off the floor of the van before flinging her to the other side. Violet’s back hit the door with a crack, and tears spilled as the pain began to spread. She stared the man down as he grinned at her from up above. “Go on,” he told her, calm and smooth. “I like the ones that fight, girl, just not the ones that scream.” Oh, Jesus. Violet dug her clenched fists against her sides, keeping her knees tucked up high to her chest, and the rest of her body as far away from the man as she possibly could. Still, he took a step forward. “Don’t touch me.”

He just laughed. “Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” “Enough.” That fucking voice. Violet’s gaze swung from the man who was her current—and probably her biggest—threat, to the one driving. Vasily Markovic. He barely gave her a look, but for a brief second, he did meet her stare over his shoulder before his attention was back on the road. “Make sure she’s clean,” Vasily murmured. “Especially if you’re going to leave her untied.” Violet flinched back against the van wall when the man came closer. She didn’t want him touching her at all. As it was, the asshole might as well have ripped hair out of her head, and he likely left a few bruises behind, too. Fuck. Him. “Don’t touch me,” Violet repeated through clenched teeth. “Ivan,” Vasily said, “stop wasting time.” Violet didn’t get a blink in before the man was

on her, hands pushing into her clothes and searching for what, she didn’t know. He’d said he liked the ones who fought, so she certainly didn’t mind giving him that. And she hoped to fuck he liked the row of claw marks she put across his face. It was only when he ripped her silk blouse did a cold spike of fear settle into Violet’s heart. Those disgusting fucking hands didn’t stop violating until he was satisfied she had nothing hidden in her clothing. By the time he was done, Violet had pushed herself into the very far corner, tucked her knees up high again, and glared at the man. “Stay the fuck away from me.” Vasily chuckled dryly from the driver’s seat, and seconds later, the van pulled over. Without explaining his motives, he exited the seat, slipping into the back as Ivan took the wheel and they began moving again. She tried not to let the unsteady movements of the vehicle taking corners bother her too much as Vasily stared her down. He knelt down a foot away

from her, pulling a white cloth napkin from his pocket and holding it out to her. Violet didn’t give the item a bit of her attention. She knew how men like Vasily Markovic worked. What seemed like a nice gesture was nothing more than a lie. He was a fucking snake—what comfort he might offer her was only a ruse, something to distract her into compliance so that he could suffocate her when she trusted him enough to turn her back to him. “Fuck you,” Violet spat. Vasily cracked the tiniest of smiles. “You surprise me, girl.” Good for him. Violet turned her face away but kept one eye on Vasily all the while resting back against the seat, one leg outstretched and his other bent at the knee. “Tell me about the wedding,” Vasily said, not a hint of emotion in his tone. “I hear women love to fuss about that sort of nonsense, yes? Tell me about

it.” Violet kept her lips shut. When she didn’t give him what he wanted, Vasily leaned forward a bit with a sigh. “Had you been my child, girl, this never would have happened. You see, my oldest girl had a fancy for a young man—Cain, I believe his name was—and I didn’t approve. There were no warnings for her. You see, I simply rid him from her life. Simple and easy.” A chilled shiver worked its way up Violet’s spine, but still, she kept quiet. Vasily let out another chuckle. “As your father should have done for you, I think. I might even have turned a cheek to him spilling Kazimir’s blood, considering all the trouble he’s caused me over the years. I have no patience for rebellious brats, you understand? I overlooked Kazimir’s behavior because I had no other choice. Now, he’s forced my hand. Yet Alberto seems to believe there is something worthy about you—something fixable in your rebellion.” “I’m not a child,” Violet said, hatred coating

her every word. “It’s not a phase he can wait to pass or beat out of me, you fucking idiot.” Had Vasily been her father, Violet never would have disrespected him so blatantly, not with her tone or her curses and name-calling. She would have known better. And maybe she should have this time. But she didn’t know Vasily Markovic well at all. She didn’t even see his fist coming until he knocked her out.

Violet awakened slowly; pain bloomed in all different spots of her body, but it focused the most on her jaw and her lower back. She blinked, but only blackness stared back at her. Confusion settled deep into her stomach as fear welled in her heart. Sliding her hands along the floor, dirt and grime smeared against her palms. Letting out a painful whine as she pushed herself up, she ignored the nausea swelling in her throat and the haziness in her vision. Where the fuck was she?

She couldn’t see anything. “Kaz!” Her shout echoed. Like a giant hole of nothingness surrounded her. Panic settled in deep as she tried to stand, but she only became even more disoriented on her feet. Because she wasn’t even sure what the fuck she was standing on. All the blackness staring back at her gave nothing away. There was no light. A damp smell. She reached out for the wall and came up with air. Violet’s tears welled, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the anxiety to calm enough for her to think. As a child, she’d hated small places. She’d hated the dark even more. She vividly remembered a nanny her mother had hired when she was about six who had once locked her in a small closet while playing hide and seek by accident. She’d fallen asleep waiting for the nanny to find her, and when she’d woken up

surrounded by darkness and in a small space, she’d quite literally had a meltdown that shook the whole wing of the mansion with her screams. Apparently, her father and others had been searching for her, thinking she had somehow gotten outside and past the security. It took them hours to realize she was still in the house, locked in that fucking closet. Violet never saw that nanny again. Even now, as an adult, that memory still clung to her mind whenever she woke to darkness and nothing else. Violet opened her eyes, knowing she wouldn’t see anything staring back at her. She forced back the anxiety and ignored the throbbing in her eye as she put her hands out in front of her and walked forward. It was only a few steps before her hands came up against something solid. Feeling around the space, she felt four walls and, eventually, a goddamn door. One with no knob. Or so it seemed. There was also no light switch.

The more Violet searched and came up with no way out of whatever fucking box she was in, the worse her panic became until she was gasping for breath and sobbing. Another memory bubbled up hard and fast as she beat her fists against the door and screamed her frustrations. Maybe it was the musty smell of the place that did it—like rotting garbage and heat rolled into one. Or maybe it was the smell of paint in the air like someone had recently put a layer of paint over the old batch. But what color would they have painted it being as dark as it was? Black. The Black Hall. Her father’s threat all those many months ago … Alberto had clearly changed his plans. Kaz was not the one inside the Black Hall. She was. Violet’s backside met the floor as she pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, willing away the tears and wishing she could calm down enough to

figure out a way out of there. No one would hear her, she remembered her father saying. The place was a maze. Violet just … cried. As time ticked on, Violet found she was more confused than ever because she didn’t know how long she had even been there. She heard no sounds, saw no light, and couldn’t distinguish time to say what had already passed since she woke up. How long had she been in there before that point? The sounds in the darkness were the worst. A creak of a floor, the drip from above, and the squeak behind the door she rested against. They played games with her thoughts, making her think someone was there, someone could hear her, if only she screamed just a little bit louder, maybe. But no one came. She didn’t realize how hard she was crying until that was all she could hear. Just her own breaths.

Her own sobs. Her own fingers dragging across the floor … Her sounds were so loud that she didn’t hear the voices echoing from behind the door until whoever it was, was beating on the wood. “Violet … krasivaya … I’m right here, yes? It’s fine. Violet!” She heard Kaz’s voice through her panic, shredding away those fears that had been eating her alive. She managed to slide away from the door when he ordered her to, and then wood gave way to more darkness. But there was light. From phones. And a flashlight, it seemed. Violet only saw Kaz coming for her. And the darkness went away.

It was never supposed to be this easy. Kaz knew it the moment he had gotten into the

building, ready to kill everything in sight if it meant getting to Violet before anything could happen to her. Sure, a few people died, and Rus even took a bullet in the shoulder, but they had ultimately been able to get Violet out without much harm. Besides the black eye that was making him want to do murder, she was no worse for wear. Too easy. Vasily had been nowhere to be found, and despite sending men over every inch of the Black Hall, there was still no sign of him. Kaz was more frustrated than ever, not liking to leave Vasily in the wind, especially after what he had just done to Violet. His father wasn’t one to back down, and Kaz was sure this wouldn’t be the last he saw of him. But for now, he had Violet—and that was all he needed. In the back of the Escalade, Violet stretched out across the seat, her head in his lap as he gently stroked her hair. He didn’t ask her to break the silence, leaving her to her thoughts for the moment. He wasn’t sure of what all had happened in that

place, but he wasn’t going to rush her to tell him— Vasily was going to die regardless. The details would only let him know how bloody to make it. He didn’t take them back to his place, and once he was in the mood to deal with it, he was getting rid of it entirely, a task that should have been done long before now. Instead, he took her to one of the many gifts he had bought her for the wedding. The mansion was meant to be a surprise he would show her once he was free long enough to show her, but as of now, it was the best place for her to be since no one knew about it. As they drove through the gates and up the mile-long driveway, Kaz thought of everything he would have to handle the moment he stepped foot off the property. Vasily was at the top of his list, and whether his father wanted to admit it or not, he wouldn’t stop—not until he was dead and in the ground. Then there was his burgeoning problem with the Italians. After his show of force, war was imminent, and nothing was going to call the Italians

off him now. But Kaz knew that was inevitable. Even if not for Violet, Alberto would have wanted to make an example out of him regardless. Sometimes, all it took was a spark, and Kaz had given him one. But as the SUV rolled to a stop, and he had the back door opened as he helped Violet out of the car and held her in his arms, he didn’t care. The only thing he cared about at that moment was his wife.

Violet buried her face in Kaz’s jacket, tucking her arms in around his sides, and decided she liked it there just fine. She didn’t care who was watching because, right then, she needed her safe place. Kaz, from the moment she met him, had been that place. “I called him a fucking idiot,” Violet

mumbled. Kaz tensed briefly, but then his arms tightened around her frame. “Vasily?” “Yes.” He made a sound that came off somewhere between appreciation and concern, however he managed it. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard someone call my father that and live to tell about it.” Violet scowled. “He hit me.” Kaz didn’t respond, but his disgusted grunt was more than enough for her to know he was pissed and ready to kill. Peeking over his shoulder, Violet found the place where they had finally arrived. The large mansion sat atop a slightly raised hill, looming high above everything around it. Victorian pillars framed the marble entrance, the paved walkway giving way to a stone path shortly before the stairs. Violet blinked, unsure of what she was seeing. “Who lives here?” she asked. Kaz drew her impossibly closer, turning them at the same time but keeping her tucked into his side. His hand tangled into her hair, tipping her

head to the side enough for him to press a kiss to her mouth. “We do—will—as of now,” Kaz said quietly. Violet just stared at the mansion, taking in the little details and the empty driveway. Glancing behind them, she found cars parked behind their SUV, and men standing at the vehicles, waiting and unmoving. Some she recognized from the wedding. Others she just knew—like Ruslan. “Ours?” Kaz smiled down at her. “What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t give you the house of your dreams, hmm?” Violet swallowed hard, clenching her hands into his jacket and holding him to her side. He wasn’t going fucking anywhere if she had any say about it. Not after today. “When?” she asked. “It’s been in the works for a while,” he admitted. Because he’d always known where they were going, she realized.

He’d never wanted anything different. Violet’s lips split into a wide grin, despite the pain it caused in her eye. Kaz instantly took note of her flinch, his hand coming up to stroke her cheekbone just below the bruise she must have sported. “This won’t happen again,” he promised. Violet nodded but said nothing. What could she say? Whose fault had it been? Not hers or his. Not really. “Can we go inside?” Violet asked. Kaz’s concern melted away as he turned back to the mansion with a wave of his hand. “It’s all yours, krasivaya. Welcome home.” Violet let him lead her into the house, noting the security features it took to actually get the front door open, and then she proceeded to spend the next hour and a half exploring the mostly furnished mansion. And it was beautiful. Perfect, even.

Violet wasn’t even surprised. “Violet?” She glanced up from the black marble countertop she’d been admiring as Kaz leaned in the kitchen entryway with two men standing behind him. Ruslan was one, and the other was someone she didn’t recognize at all. But guessing by his rolled up sleeves and his lack of tattoos, Violet guessed the man wasn’t like Kaz or Ruslan at all. “Yeah?” Kaz nodded his head toward the unknown man. “He’s going to check you over, just to make sure everything is … fine. Yes?” Violet’s gaze flicked between the softly smiling man and Kaz. “I am fine.” “Indulge me.” It didn’t seem like Kaz was going to give her a choice as he turned, leaving with Ruslan on his heel while the other man stayed behind. The man took a step into the kitchen, a black bag in hand. “I hear you had a … spill,” he said.

Violet raised a single brow. “Right into someone’s fist.” The man’s eyes widened. “Funny, they’re never so blatant about what happened when I ask.” “Not your first rodeo?” “Not even my fiftieth,” he responded in kind. Violet knew then that the man was likely a doctor on the Bratva’s payroll. Even her father had one or two to take care of things on the down low or late at night when no one wanted to make a trip to the ER. “What’s your name?” Violet asked as the man put his bag on the island counter. “You can call me Doc. Everyone else does.” “I’d prefer a name.” The man smiled. “Brian.” “Brian, then,” she said. “I’m fine. As you can see.” “Let me decide that,” Brian replied. “Sit up on the stool. I just want to check your vision and your memory. A few simple questions to make sure you’re not concussed. I’ll check your eye to be sure the bone isn’t cracked or bruised too badly.

And unless there’s something else you want me to look at …” He trailed off, offering nothing more. Violet understood well enough without an explanation. “I wasn’t touched.” “Good—up on the stool.” Brian’s no-nonsense demeanor was the only reason Violet chose not to argue with the man. That and she figured if she let him do his business, he could reassure Kaz she was, in fact, fine, and he would worry less. Sitting on the stool, Violet followed the doctor’s orders, watching his finger move from side to side and up and down. He asked her birthdate, where she’d gone to high school, and even her wedding date when he noticed the rings on her finger. He then asked more recent questions like what she had for breakfast and the last vehicle she had driven. Then he asked a question that made her pause. “Last menstrual cycle?” Violet stopped watching the little light he was shining into her eyes. “Why does that matter?”

Brian smiled. “It’s a common question for checkups, I suppose. And nearly all women can answer it, so it’s something to add to the list of semi-recent events that may have been forgotten if you were concussed. Not that I think you are, clearly. You answered everything else fine.” But not that question. Because Violet wasn’t sure. The longer she stayed quiet, counting days in her head and realizing she’d missed appointments with her New York doctor while in Chicago, the stranger she felt. That was why she’d been heading over to the clinic that morning, to update her birth control shot and have her regular checkup. That strange feeling wouldn’t leave. A little nervous. Out of breath. Hot in her blood. Terrified. Excited … “Violet?” the doctor asked. “You’ve gone quiet on me.” She didn’t think there was anything else to say

or tell. At least not to the doctor.

He was numb, Kaz thought as he watched Violet disappear around the corner with the doctor. She was fine—he could see that—but he kept seeing her fear replaying in his mind. Over and over again. He couldn’t get away from it, no matter how he tried to push it from his thoughts. But he knew why. Everything was still unresolved. Alberto was still acting unbothered, though now a little more guarded due to Kaz. Even as retaliation was threatened, he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when his actions had gotten

him the result he wanted—Violet’s safe return. But Vasily was still in the wind, still able to make moves from the shadows he had crept out of. Kaz no longer wanted to play defense. He wanted to end it once and for all. Vasily was a master of mind games. He excelled in them because he had the patience for it. Just because he would enjoy it, Kaz didn’t doubt that Vasily would come after Violet time and time again … at least until Kaz put a permanent end to it. “At ease, brother?” Rus asked from his spot on the other side of the room; his arms folded across his chest as he regarded him, the edge of a bandage peeking out from the collar of his shirt. “Not even a little,” Kaz mumbled to himself as he crouched down next to the mini bar, grabbing the bottle of vodka he had stashed there. Twisting the top off, he tossed it aside as he tipped the bottle to his lips. The familiar burn of the potent alcohol was a welcome relief, giving him something else to think about. But all too soon, after his third swallow, the

burn was gone. “We’ll find him, Kaz. Don’t worry.” Kaz scoffed, slamming the bottle just a bit too hard. “Really?” “He won’t make another—” “It’s never over until it’s over, Rus. You know that.” Vasily had taught them that well. And he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he did something, anything, to right his wrongs. Just standing there made him feel like he wasn’t doing everything he could. “Then how do you want to handle it?” Rus asked, pushing off the wall. “You’re thinking something, or you wouldn’t have that look on your face.” That was the problem. There was no guarantee that what he had planned would work. He still didn’t even know where the fuck Vasily was. His father was good at hiding, far better than he thought possible, but Kaz had one final play up his sleeve, and if he were lucky, he would have an answer soon.

“What are the Italians looking like?” “Angry but stable. They haven’t made any moves since they crawled back into their hole.” Kaz nodded, but that information didn’t appease him in any way. Alberto wouldn’t stay dormant for long. “Where are—” His phone rang, cutting him off. Boris’ name flashed across the screen, making his heart skip a beat. This was what he had been waiting on. Connecting the call, Kaz put the phone to his ear. “Speak.” “He’s staying in a brownstone on the lower east side.” His fingers twitched. “Did he see you?” “No,” Boris answered gruffly. “But I saw him —was too busy on the phone with someone to notice. I’ll text you the address.” Probably on the phone with Alberto … “Stay there. I’m on my way.” Hanging up, Kaz shoved the phone in his pocket, grabbing his jacket and keys off the counter. He was nearly to the living room when Rus finally caught up to him.

“Where are you going?” “I’m ending this.” “You shouldn’t—” “Listen up,” Kaz commanded of the men still present in his home. “No one—and I don’t give a fuck if it’s your mother—no one comes into my home unless he”—Kaz pointed at Rus— “or I give clearance. Do not test me on this.” He didn’t have to wait for a response, knowing they would follow his words to the letter. “Where are you going?” Rus asked as he started after him. Kaz paid no mind to the snow falling. Since the night before, flurries had fallen in sheets, blanketing the ground in so much white that it nearly glowed in the night. He had never liked the cold, the way it seemed to sink into his skin and wrap around his bones. Kaz hated winter. But with his emotions out of control, he hardly felt the chill. “You already know the answer to that,” Kaz said, hitting the button on the key fob, watching the lights to his Range Rover flash.

“Then I’ll go with you.” Kaz shook his head. “I’m doing this on my own.” “For fuck’s sake, Kaz. You know better than that.” “It should have been done a long time ago,” Kaz said, looking back at his brother. “So if there was nothing else I took away from this shit he pulled, it’s to not let it go unanswered.” “Like I said. Let me go with you.” “I need you to stay here with Violet—you won’t let anything happen to her.” And his only other options were hundreds of miles away. “He’ll think I’m staying here with Violet, so I’ll catch him by surprise.” Rus frowned, still looking unsure. “I don’t like it.” “It’ll be fine, brother. No worries. I’ll send you the address.” Kaz glanced behind them at the house. “Take care of her for me.” “You get an hour, Kaz. I don’t hear from you by then, she’s going underground, and I’m coming to find you.”

“Fair enough.” “Watch your back, Kaz.” Inclining his head, Kaz headed down the steps to his truck. The headlights briefly illuminated Rus’ concerned face before he was heading down the driveway and out of the neighborhood. At this time of night, hardly any drivers were out and even less because of the snow. Besides the occasional snowplow. The stars hung like glowing points in the sky, made brighter still with the full moon. It was a beautiful night despite the ugliness of the day. It was nearly an hour later before Kaz was cutting his lights; slowly creeping down the street, he parked at the very first available spot. Killing the engine, he sat for a while, looking toward the brownstone where Vasily was hiding out. The light was on in one of the windows, and he thought he saw a shadow move in the room. Pulling on a pair of black leather gloves, Kaz reached into the center console, retrieving the gun and silencer he had stashed there. There wouldn’t be any torture tonight.

It would be simple. An execution. Then he wouldn’t give his father another thought. As quietly as he could, Kaz climbed out of his truck, keeping his steps light as he walked down the sidewalk to the building, his shoes crunching on the ice and snow. Glancing around for Boris, he didn’t wait to find him, going up the stairs instead. Going up to the second floor, he picked the lock on the door, pausing a moment once he was finished. Very carefully, he twisted the handle and pushed the door open but didn’t take a step inside. He just looked around. Something was wrong. It was too quiet. Backing away from the door, Kaz started back down the stairs, his phone in hand, but as he was on the stoop, something caught in the corner of his eye. A foot, he realized, sticking out from behind a trash can and garbage bags. From the direction he came, he hadn’t been able to see the body there, but now, he definitely

could. Boris, he realized as he came closer, only able to see the tattoos that decorated his fingers. Something was off … Narrowing his eyes, Kaz tried to make out what it was when it finally hit him—his fingertips were blue. Which meant Boris had been dead for a while … maybe even since he had made the phone call. The realization hit him too late as he felt the hands on him, one forcing his head back the other coming down, the glint of a knife flashing before it sliced across his throat. Dropping his gun, his hands flew to his neck, applying pressure, even as he sputtered, feeling the rush of blood pouring down his neck. He was on his side before he even realized he was falling. “I would have given you anything, Kazimir,” Vasily said in a calm voice, one he hadn’t used with him since he was a boy. “You were my boy, and I would have given you the world.” With a sigh, he crouched next to Kaz’s head, unmoved by the red soaking into the snow at his feet. Brushing his hair back from his face, Vasily

gazed down at Kaz fondly. “I’ll see you, son.” Vasily didn’t linger much longer, disappearing out of sight. As he lay there, the chill grabbing hold of him with strangling arms, Kaz could feel the warmth fleeing. This, he realized belatedly, was what numbness felt like. Or rather ... This was what dying felt like.

With a degree in Creative Writing, London Miller has turned pen to paper, creating riveting fictional worlds where the bad guys are sometimes the good guys. Her debut novel, In the Beginning, is the first in the Volkov Bratva Series. She currently resides in Atlanta, Georgia with her husband and two puppies, where she drinks far too much Sprite, and spends her nights writing. Find London at: Her website,

or on Facebook, or on Twitter - @LMAuthor.

Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to three very young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, a snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a spouse calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something ... when she can find the time. Find Bethany-Kris at: Her website, or on Facebook, on her blog, or on Twitter - @BethanyKris. Sign up to Bethany-Kris’s New Release

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Copyright © 2016 by Bethany-Kris and London Miller. All Rights Reserved. WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted material is illegal and punishable by law. No parts of this work may be reproduced, copied, used, or printed without expressed written consent from the publisher/author. Exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in reviews. eISBN 13: 978-1-988197-21-0 Editor: Jenny Sims Proofreaders: Eli P., Tracy A. & Christine D. Cover Artwork © London Miller This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations, corporations, locales and so forth are a product of the author’s imagination, or

if real, used fictitiously. Any resemblance to a person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.