Deceitful Vows by Brook Wilder
Chapter 30
Andrei
“I have nothing.” Dmitri skips the vodka and sits down on the couch in my office. He ruffles his hand through his hair, changing from assassin to confidante before my eyes. “We have looked into the man’s past, but only two people who know how Gerald Reyes knew Sidorenko. Sidorenko is dead, and I doubt Gerald is going to be very forthcoming.”
My plans are not lining up. Have I spent too much time on Reyes and not enough time defending the Bratva? We’ve lost three key men this week while my bride continues to tease me in our bed. Vasily wouldn’t have put up with her games. But he’s not the pakhan anymore.
“The family is not well,” continues Dmitri as if I had asked. “From what we can tell, the chemo is having a limited impact on his illness. And the sister … Emma. She’s plastered posters in their neighborhood with Paige’s picture, and there’s a post on all the social media. The little girl is taking it worse than their father. She was spotted stumbling out of a house party—visibly drunk.”
This time he waits for me to ask, but there are always casualties. We try to keep the innocent out of it, but sometimes they are trapped through no fault of their own. Igor has put us on the defensive, and I hate him more for it. He should be running from us, not the other way around.
“Put someone around the sister’s age to keep an eye on her. Tell them to keep their distance.”
“And the father?”
“Stay the course for now,” I reply coolly. “I am certain her father is of interest.”
The silence resumes.
“Perhaps it would be a good idea to let your wife see her family.”
“Are you becoming sentimental?” I ask evenly.
Dmitri lifts his shoulders and sits up straight. “No.” His reply is low and hard. “Your wife is close to her father, and she can find out things our men cannot, even unwittingly.”
“She knows nothing about her father’s past, or even that he has one.”
“It’s what she has you believe,” he says. “We have made no progress.”
“Talia is out for blood, and she’ll get it. If not mine, then definitely Paige’s. Allowing her contact will lead Talia and Igor to her family if they haven’t already followed us there. And then you’ll have more concerns than a teenage girl sneaking home drunk from a party.”
“Point made, Andrei Vasilyevich,” replies Dmitri. “One other thing my men have noticed. The pattern of attacks seems as if Igor has inside information. He knows not only where to find us, but when the best time is to strike. And it’s always our best soldiers being targeted. Men who aren’t easily ambushed.”
There was a report recently. A new recruit lost his arm in an explosion. There have also been civilian fatalities in a public place, and that will draw attention. “Any thoughts on who might be supplying information to Igor?”
“I would keep an eye on Seryozha. He has been an outcast since the wedding. He keeps too much to himself and extends a hand to no one.”
“Good work.” I shake Dmitri’s hand when he rises. “I rely on you.”
His jaw stiffens. I may rely on him, but lately I have made it a habit not to take his advice, and he has noticed.
“May I speak frankly, Andrei Vasilyevich?”
I nod, forcing myself to maintain eye contact. I’m not expecting generous compliments on my latest decisions. No one awards second place in the Bratva.
“You are allowing yourself to live under your father’s shadow,” he says. “And it is a long, dark shadow that extends to his grave. It may lead you there as well. You may reconsider that there are things that would’ve been best left alone.”
“Explain,” I demand coldly.
“Igor was Vasily’s sworn enemy, not yours.”
I tilt my chin and glare at him. “He did me a favor. Should I go thank him?”
Dmitri holds up his hands in defense and shakes his head. “No, but …”
I cut him off. “Talia was my fiancée. Should I send Paige away and make amends with her?”
Dmitri hesitates to answer. “No, but you should be able to trust your wife.”
“And what do you know of what goes on between me and my wife?”
Dmitri bows his head, recognizing that our conversation is at an end. “Nothing, Andrei Vasilyevich. I merely wished to express my own concern.”
***
After he leaves, I ponder what Dmitri said, as well as my own concern for Paige’s sister. I berate myself. I shouldn’t feel concern for her sister or her father. The only family is the Bratva, and Paige must learn that. But then my mind argues that they mean something to Paige, and like it or not, I care about her safety.
Thinking with the heart is deadly. That is why I will always use my head.
There’s a knock on the office door, but whoever it is doesn’t enter. Loudly, I tell them to enter, but they remain outside the door. Finally, I get up and yank it open. The scent of perfume tickles my nose as Paige stands in front of me in a dress. I fight to keep my jaw from hitting the floor as I step aside and let her in.
“How do I look?” Paige asks.
She looks stunning as she spins in a circle in front of my desk. The silky dress hugs her curves but not tightly; the hem is high enough to show off her tanned legs. She has curled her hair and it waves, cascading over her shoulder. She stops, and my gaze lowers to the delicate skin between her breasts.
I can imagine her light hair barely covering her breasts as she lies naked in our bed.
Her gaze flickers down my body. My jacket hangs off the back of my chair, along with my tie. My sleeves are rolled up, revealing the few tattoos I have—each celebrating my milestones in the Bratva. I worked hard to become the pakhan until fate took over. Her eyes pause at the bulge in my pants. I’m not ashamed to be aroused. She is my wife.
I want her to beg.
“We spent a lot of money.” She bites her lip.
I grin. “Then you owe me a kiss.”
Paige walks into my open arms, and closing her eyes, she parts her lips. That feeling returns; the pulse of electricity that happens when I press my lips against hers. Work is forgotten. War is forgotten as I pull her against my body. She sighs when I pull back, and her eyes flutter open as if she’s awakened.
But I’m no Prince Charming, and this isn’t a dream. She won’t beg until I make her scream.
I place my hand on her chest, and gradually, my hand lowers to her breast. I cup the weight in my hand; my fingers slide across the hard nipples. My fingers slide below the fabric, and I can feel the heat on her skin.
“I think about that day I dressed you,” I whisper. “How you felt.”
She moans. “Do I feel good?”
I lift her and place her on the edge of my desk. Then I slide my hands over the hem of her dress. My cock throbs, but I ignore it. She will beg for me first. I lift her dress above her waist, exposing her thin panties. My thumbs brush her inner thigh, where her skin is the warmest, and Paige’s eyes flutter.
“Will someone see?” she gasps, suddenly holding onto my wrist.
I glance out the window at the sunlight on the terrace. “They know better than to look.”
“You won’t ruin my dress, will you?” she asks.
“Not if you take it off first.”
Paige unbuttons the tiny buttons on her neckline and whips the dress over her head. I breathe harder as I thicken more. She’s not wearing a bra.
“I didn’t need it,” she explains.
Thinking about her bare breasts under her top makes me rock hard. How she walks around barely dressed and only I know. Only I can touch her.
I rub my nose against her cleavage, inhaling the floral perfume on her skin. I prefer to smell her sweat instead. I stick my tongue out, touching the tip to the nipple. A swish of my tongue brings it into my mouth and I nip the delicate skin with my teeth. She sighs and her hands grip the edge of the desk. My tongue curls around the pebbled flesh.
I want complete surrender, and amusing myself with her fantastic tits will not do it.
My hands move in between her legs and stroke the clit hidden behind the moist fabric. My thumb pushes the fabric between her swollen lips. She bows her head as I rub back and forth, spreading her juices over the fabric.
“You will scream for me,” I whisper. “There’s no shame in wanting what you want.”
Page lifts her hands to my shoulders. I grab one and press a kiss to her wrists as my other hand keeps stroking her.
“I know how wet you can get. I want to see if I can make you wetter.”
She holds onto my shoulders as I reach under her and pull her panties off. I toss them behind my desk for later. My finger runs over the small triangle that barely covers her mound. Her swollen pussy glistens pink, and its scent makes me breathe hard. Paige is naked on my desk. I’ve only seen her in clothing, even if it was just the tiniest bit.
Her perfect breasts are small but plump; they fill my mouth. My mouth spreads kisses over her slight tummy. Her skin is the golden tan of a girl who likes to be outdoors. She would have me begging if she walked outside and laid naked in the grass.
“Touch your breasts. The way I would.”
Paige strokes her nipples, pinching them with her pink-polished nails.
I kneel between her legs, spreading open her thighs. And my tongue licks her folds. She gasps as I leisurely explore every surface inside those beautiful legs. She rocks as my tongue sweeps over her clit. I don’t want it too intense. I know what other women want, but Paige won’t cave without a fight. She has to want it so bad that she’ll scream.
I circle her clit and watch her reaction. Paige bounces on the desk; her body tenses and then relaxes as she grabs hold of my shoulders, urging me on.
Her hips start to move against my face, and I add a finger. She throws her head back and shakes her hair. Her control is lost as I suck on her clit, long and greedy. Her hands leave her breasts, and I feel nails on my scalp. The pain drives me.
Her moaning stops, and then a word—too soft to decipher until she says it again—tumbles from her lips.
“Please.”
