Chapter 30

30

Lyric

W atching my father testify against Smith on video is quite something. I should be practicing my dissertation, but the video just came out on social media, and I couldn’t resist. It’s been a month since Bowman died. Smith and my father were arrested, along with other prominent federal agents, police officers, lawyers, judges, and congressional staff members, not to mention dozens of associates, businessmen and others involved in what can only be described as one of the biggest and most influential networks in Chicago’s history.

I’ve given my share of interviews to the FBI and the police, though I managed to steer clear of the press altogether. Max and the guys have had one of their top lawyers by my side through it all, covering my back against any potential charges.

From what I hear, Smith’s attorneys have been slinging mud in each direction in an attempt to get their client out of trouble, but it sounds like his best option is to make a deal.

“I had no knowledge of Mr. Bowman and Director Smith’s plans to kidnap and hold my daughter hostage,” my father tells the judge on camera. “Had I been aware, I would’ve called the police myself.”

“Yeah, right,” I grumble, knowing full well that he would’ve hesitated and sought ways to cover his own ass first.

I will need a lot of time to get over it all. Until then, however, I resort to mumbling and cursing under my breath, not able to bear even hearing his name mentioned in conversation while I focus on my future, my career, and my babies.

I was shocked when the doctor told me I was having twins after the incident at the field office, but the guys and I couldn’t be more thrilled.

“Miss Phelps, the board is ready for you,” the dean’s assistant says, poking her head through the door. “They’re waiting.”

“Thank you,” I reply with a smile and put my phone away.

I take a deep breath and follow her into the main chamber—a large circular hall with massive marble pillars and wall-mounted portraits of the city’s most revered scientists. The University of Chicago was my home for four long years, and it could be my home again if my dissertation is accepted and published.

I greet the board members with a courteous nod and give my flash drive to the assistant, who loads it into the projector-connected laptop.

“Good morning, Miss Phelps. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Dean Johnson says.

“Likewise, Dean. It’s an honor to be here,” I reply, working hard to control my breathing as I look at each of the board members and try to figure out which one of them will be rejecting my project. One of them always does. Never in the history of UC has a dissertation passed without some kind of academic dissent. “But just to be clear, I will not be discussing my predictive algorithm for this thesis.”

Johnson gives me a startled look. “Hold on. I thought that was your focus. You’ve been very adamant about it even before you earned your Bachelor’s. What gives, Miss Phelps?”

“I was actually excited to hear about it,” Professor Gallan chimes in, her brow slightly furrowed.

“I know and I do apologize. While my work continues with the algorithm, it still has a number of considerable kinks to iron out before it’s ready,” I reply. “I promise that when it is, you’ll be the first to hear about it.”

The board members exchange curious and confused glances.

I’ve decided that I cannot have my predictive algorithm anywhere near the public domain. It can be a dangerous tool in the wrong hands. I’ve seen what bad men are willing to do for power—my father, Bowman, Smith. I shudder to even imagine what someone like them would do with my algorithm at their fingertips.

The world isn’t ready for this, and I’m not ready to risk it. It wasn’t an easy decision.

“For what it’s worth,” I say as the projector comes on, the first page of my slideshow filling up the main presentation screen behind me, “I can assure you my dissertation subject will incite your interest.”

Johnson stares at the title for a while, then bursts into laughter.

“Turning the Mafia Legit: An in-depth how-to for organized crime to redesign their business model,” he reads aloud. “Miss Phelps, I admit, I’m already curious.”

“It took a lot of work to put this together in such a short period of time, but I am satisfied with the results of this study. The business model itself can be extrapolated and applied to other fields, as well. It follows a specific formula with numerous ramifications.”

“Please, do go ahead then.”

And so it begins.

The next stage of my life, of my career, as I steer myself in a slightly different direction. Nothing has ever gone according to plan for me, yet somehow I managed to flow like water, to adjust and adapt and make the most of every situation. Through it all, nothing has been more beautiful and more rewarding than my relationship with Max, Ivan, and Artur.

No matter what the board decides today, I’m walking out of here as a happy and already accomplished woman, with only the sky as my limit.

I power through the dissertation one slide at a time. It’s a good subject with practical applications, studied and observed over the span of a few months. I have solid data to back up my claims, and the board grows increasingly fascinated as I progress with my conclusions.

My confidence grows as I notice their expressions softening as I near the end, especially Dean Johnson’s. His opinion matters the most— it’s his vote that will get me my PhD.

“Therefore, the model I presented follows a real-life application,” I say in closing.

“I think I recognize the real-life application,” Johnson chuckles softly. “Is it the Sokolov Corporation? Or am I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong,” I reply with a smile.

He nods slowly. “I must admit, I’ve been following their story closely since the whole FBI debacle. What a mess that was.”

“Indeed, it was.”

I still have nightmares about it, but I sleep wrapped in the arms of three incredible men. Men whose dark sides are always ready to crush those who intend to do us harm. It doesn’t get any better than this for me, and I don’t want it to.

I live in two different worlds and I love it. I have an odd sense of peace now. It didn’t end well for most of the people involved—my father included—but I survived and found happiness. Justice prevailed.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all that,” says Professor Raskolnikov, a macro-economy specialist and Russian defector.

“It shouldn’t have any bearing on my performance here today,” I reply with a soft smile. “I refuse to let any of that define me as a doctor and a scholar in my field, Professor.”

“Nor will it, despite the interesting choice of subject for your thesis,” Raskolnikov says. “I do, however, appreciate your dissertation, more than you might ever understand. You basically took the very concept of oligarchy and demolished it.”

“While simultaneously crushing capitalism as well,” Johnson adds. “Well done, Miss Phelps.” He pauses and looks at his colleagues. “What do you say, ladies and gentlemen? Has Miss Phelps raised herself to the standards of a doctorate, today? Is she ready to advance her academic career and perhaps even join our research team?”

The minute that follows feels like the longest in my life.

I hold my breath, my body quivering. I’m getting closer to my due date. I’ll be a mother soon. The thought both terrifies and exhilarates me at the same time. Everything is happening at once, and not a day goes by that I don’t thank the stars for putting me in the company of Max, Ivan, and Artur.

Whatever the board decides, I know I’ll be happy.

The Sokolov mansion is peaceful now. The tabloids have dubbed it the “Fort Knox of Chicago” and for good reason. It is constantly guarded by an elite team of security experts, all former military and SEAL operatives. Rough men with hard, sharp eyes and inscrutable instincts.

The FBI has stepped away from most of its investigations into the Bratva while they clean house—and boy, do they have a mess on their hands. It has allowed us to breathe again and relax.

I pull into the driveway and get out of my car. Olya, one of the guards, greets me and offers to park it in the garage. More than once, he has noticed me struggling and has made it his personal task.

“Don’t worry about it, Miss Phelps. You’re a genius in other aspects of life. Any monkey can park a car, but not anyone can do what you do with numbers,” Olya chuckles as he gets behind the wheel, noticing my blushed cheeks.

“You’re too kind,” I giggle and go inside.

“There she is!” Max exclaims as he comes out of the kitchen to greet me. “How’d it go?”

Ivan and Artur join us in the hallway, all three greeting me with broad, sparkling smiles and big, round eyes. It melts my heart to see them like this. There’s nothing I love more than to come home to them. Nothing.

I hold up my degree, which I stopped to have professionally framed on the way back. “Got it.”

“Congratulations, baby!” Max exclaims and lovingly wraps his arms around my generous waist. “I knew you’d get it.”

Artur snatches the degree away and squints at it. “Turning the Mafia Legit. I can’t believe you went ahead with that title. I suggested it as a joke.”

“It’s a catchy joke and it worked,” I laugh.

Ivan rests a hand on the small of my back and smothers me with quick, soft kisses. “I’m proud of you, Lyric. So damn proud.”

“Thank you, babe,” I mumble and kiss him back.

“Hold on, I want some of that,” Artur chuckles as he sets the degree aside and rushes in, capturing my mouth in a long, ardent kiss. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve only been gone a few hours.”

“I always miss you when you’re gone,” he says. “No matter how long or short of a time.”

Max runs his fingers through my long hair, pulling my head back gently so he can plant wet kisses along the side of my neck. “Oh, wow,” I gasp as Ivan’s fingers get to work on unbuttoning my shirt. At the same time, I hear Artur’s belt unbuckling.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Max whispers and licks my lower lip.

Artur comes up behind me, heating my core with his strong, athletic frame. “You’re dangerously addictive, Lyric, I thought you knew that.”

“I don’t mind hearing it again now and then.”

“It’s true, we do miss you when you’re gone,” Ivan says. My shirt drops to the floor and he gets to work on my pants next. Before long, I’m naked and wanting, wedged between my equally naked and wanting men. Liquid arousal trickles down my inner thighs. “It makes having you all to ourselves all the more special.”

Max lets his fingers slide between my wet folds. I crumble under his touch, moaning harshly as he stimulates my clit in a slick frenzy. He is ruthless in his conquest, while Ivan fondles my breasts and takes his sweet time nipping, sucking, and licking my nipples until they’re perked and dark pink.

“Your breasts are spectacular these days,” Artur groans, moving to the side so he can better watch what Ivan is doing to me. “Motherhood is already looking so good on you, baby.”

“Oh, God, I need you inside me,” I cry out, nearing the edge of madness as he strokes me harder and faster. My pussy clenches, the pressure building up. We’ve been a tad more careful with how far we push things during this final lap of my pregnancy, but we haven’t been able to keep our hands off each other. I grab him and Ivan by their cocks, squeezing and stroking them at the same time, letting my hands revel in the hard feel of their manhood as Artur shifts back behind me. “I need you, now.”

Artur gently places a hand on my back, between my shoulder blades, prompting me to bend slightly forward. Max flicks my clit one last time and I come hard, gushing and whimpering in sheer ecstasy just as Artur fills me to the brim. He can feel me twitching, pulsating as I wrap myself around his massive cock.

“Oh, yes,” I groan as I let him stretch me, slowly at first, while Max and Ivan grin like devils, gently inviting me to service them with my mouth, not just my hands.

I smile back, my vision hazy with drunken love, as I take turns sucking them off.

Artur goes deeper and harder. “Fucking hell, you’re still going,” he groans, realizing that I’m still riding one hell of an orgasm with him inside of me. It only makes him fuck me harder. I love the sound of skin slapping skin, and the way he smacks my ass only adds to a new wave of pressure gathering in my core.

I look up at Max, my lips stretched, my mouth full of him, and give him a playful wink. It makes his cock twitch as he bites into his lower lip, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. Soon enough, I’ve got them both on the tip of my tongue. I lick them, suckling their heads and tasting the salty precum as they grow bigger and harder in my hands.

Artur picks up the pace.

“Yes baby!” I groan as I feel another climax coming.

I surrender to the rhythm, welcoming him harder and faster, parting my legs and bending a bit more forward so that I can feel him even deeper. I listen to the sound of his ragged breath as he claims me, his hand slipping around my hip so he can tease my clit until I come again.

Ivan grunts harshly, locking both hands on my head as he briefly takes over from his brother. “Open wide, Lyric.”

“Mmm…” I unhinge my jaw as he slides down my throat.

So many inches. Tears spring from my eyes as he fucks me deeper, as well, while Artur has complete dominance over my pussy. I’m close to exploding when I feel Ivan’s seed shooting down my throat. I swallow every drop, moaning as I feel him coming, over and over, pumping me full of him while Artur spills himself inside of me.

I moan, rippling from the center to the very edges of the universe as I fall over into the sweetest darkness. Max rushes to reclaim his position, and I take him in my mouth once again.

Artur slaps my ass as I clench and squeeze his cock dry.

I hold Max with both hands and suck hard on the tip, massaging the shaft until I feel him explode.

“We didn’t even make it to the bedroom this time,” Artur chuckles and drops a kiss on my shoulder as we gradually come down from a deeply intense afterglow.

My hair falls over my face, sweat sticking it to my forehead and cheeks. Max gingerly helps me back into a standing position, then escorts me upstairs. Ivan and Artur follow.

“I love this look on you,” Artur says.

“Naked and glowing?” I giggle softly. “Pregnant? All of the above?”

“All of the above,” he replies.

It sparks an instant fire inside as I realize how perfect this entire moment is. We don’t even reach the bedroom, only the top of the stairs, when I stop, turn around and look into their eyes.

“Have I told you all that I love you today?” I ask.

“You’re telling us now,” Max replies.

“I’ll tell you every day, if you’ll let me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Ivan mutters and bites into my shoulder.

And just like that, we’re on again. Engines rumbling, bodies crashing into one another, souls dissolving and reaching for the upper heavens.

It’s been a crazy ride and then some, but we made it. We survived violence and chaos of the worst kind. Treachery, death, manipulation. There were so many forces against us yet we prevailed.

The road ahead will not be easy but it will be different.

The ride will be smoother because we’ll be together. We’re building a future. A family of our own. A weird slice of heaven that is ours and ours alone. It cannot get any better than this.