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Lukyan gripped his chin roughly, forcing the man to look at him. “You’re going to wish I killed you. My father will have no mercy,” Lukyan spat.
As underboss, I oversaw all our capos, making sure they were doing their job and keeping our soldiers in line. There was a certain hierarchy to the Cosa Nostra. As Don, my father was in charge of everyone and everything, but he delegated certain tasks to others. Vin was our enforcer, responsible for dealing out punishments to those who deserved it, and he was usually brutal about it. I not only dealt with our capos and lower-ranking soldiers, but also kept the books for our businesses, making sure everything matched up.
We had five drop houses altogether, spread throughout the area. They were where we stored all our cash until it could be laundered safely through our businesses and into our accounts. The houses were small and inconspicuous so as not to attract attention. They weren’t even in our names. On the off chance they got raided, we didn’t want the money traced back to us. Anyone with access was now a suspect.
I always thought that was what I wanted in a wife; someone who listened unconditionally and wouldn’t question me. Then the hurricane that was Illayana Volkova swept into my life and blew all that out of the water. I realized after meeting her that I didn’t want a weak, docile wife. I wanted a fighter. A queen.
“She’s my fiancé, not my girlfriend. And you’ll wait,” I commanded as I accepted the call. “Kotenok, chto ya mogu sdelat’ dlya vas?” Kitten, what can I do for you? I asked in flawless Russian.
Now, he’d gone after Illayana. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in, trying to calm myself like she said. It didn’t work. No one touched what was mine.
Hehehe
“So bossy.” She chuckled. “I’ll see you later, Arturo.” “Ciao, gattina. Stai attento.” Goodbye, kitten. Be safe, I said in Italian. “Anche tu.” You too.
Illayana walked over to the man on the ground, and, after a few seconds, pulled her foot up and slammed her heel into his throat. Jesus fucking Christ.
She brought a knife to his throat and swiftly cut his throat. “Daaaaaaaamn!” one of the twins cheered. I had no idea which one. All of my focus was on Illayana. She’s fucking amazing.
Dimitri held a hand up in the air, halting me. “I suggest you talk with your fiancé first, Arturo. It is never a good idea for a woman to go to bed angry. Especially a Volkov woman.”
Aleksandr, Nikolai, and Lukyan all started nodding enthusiastically, like they had firsthand experience with an angry Volkov woman. Hell, they were probably fucking experts.
“But I do own you, kotenok,” I said seductively as I moved behind her. I lowered my lips to her ear, loving the fact that her breath hitched as I slowly ran my tongue over her earlobe. “I own every single inch of you.” I ran a finger down her arm, watching as goose bumps rose all over her skin. “And soon, everyone will know it.”
“Because that’s what you are. A vicious little kitten that will claw my eyes out the second I piss you off,” I whispered over her lips. “And I fucking love it.”
“It’s important that you understand exactly what kind of man I am in the bedroom, Illayana. That’s the one place I will not accept disobedience. But don’t worry, you’ve got plenty of time to learn what’s expected of you.” I gave one more quick nip to her skin and then pulled back completely, removing my body from hers and stepping back. “Now, I have an appointment with a guest you have in the house.”
“¿Por què no puedo sentir mis piernas?” Why can’t I feel my legs? “Eso es porque mi encantadora hija te cortó la médula espinal.” That’s because my lovely daughter severed your spinal cord.
Dimitri entered the room, his big, imposing body coming to a stop beside me as he replied to the man in perfect Spanish. His blue eyes locked onto his target, and a vile smirk spread across his lips.
“Aleksandr,” Dimitri barked. “The Bratva Butcher,” Aleksandr replied automatically.
My eyes widened. The Bratva Butcher? That was him? I had first heard of the Bratva Butcher years earlier, but I had no idea it was Dimitri. I’d assumed it was some mercenary or assassin, not the actual leader of the goddamn Bratva. The Bratva Butcher was rumored to be the cruelest, most ruthless motherfucker of all time. I’d heard he slaughtered an entire family line. Just wiped them off the face of the earth. Women, children…No one was safe from him.
My wife used to say I was like a raging bull, ready to attack at the slightest provocation. When people threaten my family, all I see is red. All I feel is rage. All I want is vengeance. They call me the Bratva Butcher because I’ll not only butcher you, but I’ll butcher your entire goddamn fucking family. I’ll rip them all to shreds for the sins of another, and I’ll have no problem with it. Because like I said, when my family is threatened, all I see. Is. Red.”
Holy fucking shit. This man is fucking ruthless! Note to self: never hurt Illayana.
Mikhail Vasolv was a man of horror—the type of man people had nightmares about.
Before I could open the door, Dimitri spoke. “After what?” I glanced over my shoulder and raised my chin in the air. “After I cut Miguel to pieces.” I walked back into the room, shrugging off my suit jacket and hanging it up by the door. Oh, this is going to be fun.
His tattoos encompassed the entire length of his upper torso; from his wrists up to his shoulders, fanning out over his chest, down his abdomen, and wrapping around his back. His gorgeous, tan skin was as smooth as silk—which was hard to believe, considering the tough life he lived. Of course he had a set of perfectly sculpted abs…Six-pack, from the looks of it. No, wait—eight.
With his long, dark hair, bright blue eyes, high cheekbones, and chiseled jaw, Lukyan had always been known as the pretty boy of the family. My guess? He didn’t like having someone steal his thunder.
Lukyan got to his feet and took a seat back in his chair just as Christian and Luca walked into the kitchen. My new bodyguards. Part of me was still a little ticked off about having them, but my father insisted it was a good idea, and I’d never once known him to be wrong. They were gorgeous men, both with dark hair and blue eyes. They stood at about 6’4 with broad shoulders and muscular builds.
Christian and Luca both looked down at their clothes. Dressed in black slacks, black shirts, and black boots, it was like they didn’t want people to be able to tell them apart. They both looked at each other and shrugged.
I would have loved to say I had more restraint than that, but truth be told, I didn’t. I had an extremely short temper and not a lot of reasoning skills—hence why I was trying to beat the shit out of my brother for simply saying something annoying. Maybe I really was crazy. Oh, well.
Me lol
“Noticed Luca had this scar on his wrist last night. My guess is from a knife fight.” He moved to Christian. “Christian wears the same cologne as I do, and Luca wears something downright dreadful.” He scrunched up his nose. “No offense, bro,” he said, winking at Luca. “That’s why you were sniffing them,” I said, putting the pieces together about his crazy behavior.
My anger spiked. I picked up a butcher knife from the dishrack and flung it toward him, making sure to aim wide so it didn’t actually hit him. The blade sank deeply into the wall in front of him. He stopped dead in his tracks and glanced over his shoulder, a dark look in his eyes. “Don’t walk away from me when we’re in the middle of a conversation,” I hissed.
He nodded slightly. “Alright, I’ll include you. But, kotenok, the next time you throw a knife at me, I’m going to tie you to the bed and fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.”
I looked at my best friend, and the sadness flickering across her face made my heart clench. Tatiana might have been a little crazy, but she had the sweetest soul. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for the people she cared about, the people she loved. She was always the first person there to comfort me whenever something shitty happened in my life, with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a joint in the other, ready to help drown my sorrows.
Fuck. An angry Nikolai was a very bad thing. It took a lot to ruffle his feathers. Out of all three of my brothers, he was always the calm, composed one. But whenever it came to Tatiana, that seemed to fly out the fucking window.
She was superficial, the type of person who cared more about material possessions than the people in her life. Rayna posted every little thing on social media, pretending that she lived some grand, glamorous life when in reality, she was just a basic bitch with a fake-ass life. It got to the point that I had to block her on Instagram and TikTok because I couldn’t stand looking at all that fake bullshit.
My long black hair was left to flow freely down my back, a few strands braided back so they wouldn’t get in my way. My face had layers of makeup applied to it, from foundation and blush to eyeliner, mascara, and my signature red lipstick. I had it all, and it looked tasteful. I didn’t look like a two-cent hooker, and I guess that’s all a girl can wish for on her wedding day, right? That, and not getting stood up.
My wedding dress—well, my mother’s wedding dress—fit perfectly. The sleeves ran all the way down to my wrists and were made of the softest lace I’d ever felt. The bodice had an intricate design that hugged my body flawlessly, showing off all my curves in a respectful manner.
Lukyan’s voice was firm yet calm as he opened the door and stepped inside. He was wearing a dark, tailored tuxedo, the dress pants and jacket encompassing his body entirely. His long dark hair was tied up neatly at the nape of his neck.
My bedroom door opened once again. This time, Aleksandr and Nikolai walked through. They were dressed in similar tuxedos to Lukyan, the only difference being the colors. Aleksandr’s was dark blue with a black bow tie. Nikolai’s was light gray. He had chosen to forgo the bow tie, preferring the open-collared look.
A single tear escaped his eye and ran down his cheek as he stood in front of me. He raised a hand, softly tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “You look so much like your mother,” he whispered, sadness lacing his thick Russian accent.
He simultaneously opened the door and pulled back the curtain, revealing our large outdoor patio, filled with people. I tried to ignore them all, my eyes honing in on the handsome figure at the end of the aisle. He stood beneath a tall floral arch, with Vincenzo at his side.
He wore a stunning dark red Brioni suit with a black tie. It was tailored to fit his build perfectly, accentuating those hard-earned muscles and broad shoulders. His dark hair was kept short and styled neatly. When our gazes locked, his lips curved into that sly, sexy smirk that made me weak in the knees. His gorgeous multicolored eyes sparkled, his emerald green eye and electric blue eye drawing me in instantly. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.
He just looked so fucking good. The edges of his tattoos peeked out of his suit, giving off that dangerous, bad-boy vibe that made me so fucking wet. What I wouldn’t have given to rip that suit off his body and fuck him right there. Turned out, being turned on helped quell my nerves. Who knew?
Arturo extended his hand, palm upward, his eyes never leaving mine.
He leaned over and whispered into my ear, his deep, seductive voice sending shivers down my spine. “Ora, sei mio.” Now, you’re mine.
Vin was definitely interested in getting in her pants. I knew my brother. I knew all his tells. If the smirk he kept throwing her way was any indication, he was going to try something. But I wasn’t sure if she was interested. I caught her gaze shifting to Nikolai frequently and then darting away before he could notice. It was…interesting.
My eyes drank in every inch of her body, from her long legs to her black hair. I was entranced. Fuck. She’s beautiful. Her long dark hair was flowing down her shoulders, a few strands intricately braided up. Her ocean eyes sparkled as they landed on me, and I curled my lips into that sly grin I knew she loved. My stomach tightened with each step she took, anticipation coursing through my body at what the future would bring us.
I took a sip of my champagne, not at all a fan of the bubbles, but meh. I turned to gaze at my wife. Fuck. My wife. “Any regrets?” I smirked.
The first round of guests appeared before us. Dimitri, Aleksandr, Nikolai, and Lukyan. They looked large and imposing, all of them standing well over six feet tall with muscular builds and hard, sculpted faces. If I wasn’t 100 percent sure they agreed with our union, I’d think they were about to kill me—well, try to anyway.
He stepped forward, covering the empty space between us, and whispered in my ear. “Esli khot kak-to trones moiu doch’, ya tebya zarezu.” If you hurt my daughter in any way, I’ll butcher you. The fact that he delivered his threat in Russian made it all the more menacing, which I thought was what he was trying to achieve.
“Mne plevat, esli the myasnik bratvy, ugrozhay mne snova yi tebe nay ponravitsya to, chto proisoidet.” I don’t care if you are the Bratva Butcher. Threaten me again, and you won’t like what happens.
“Snap the fuck out of it before I slap it out of you again.” I narrowed my eyes and wrenched my body out of his grasp. “Do it and you’ll be fucking sorry,” I snarled. His eyes twinkled. “Ahhh, there she is. You had me scared there for a minute. Thought you were turning into one of those useless, hysterical women.”
