Chapter 8

8

Lyric

A fter Bowman and my father’s speeches about their war against the Chicago mob—the Bratva in particular—I am compelled to reach out to Max, Ivan, and Artur. I haven’t seen them in a while, and the fact that they never made that Friday night happen has finally begun to make sense. Given the circumstances, and Smith’s visit to the library, I’m guessing they were just trying to keep me out of what is clearly becoming a hot, horrible mess.

But I can’t stay away anymore, for a multitude of reasons.

I don’t have their phone numbers or their social media handles, so one evening, after some Internet sleuthing, I managed to find the address of a house on the Upper East Side that is listed as their official residence.

“Whoa,” I mumble, noticing the size of the Sokolov’s house as I advance toward it.

The villa is a two-story splendor nestled between giant sycamore trees, with a lush front garden and imposing, black metal gates. Security is stationed outside and judging by the number of sleek Escalades parked in the driveway, along with the sound of electronic music oozing from inside, they’ve got some kind of fancy event going tonight.

I suddenly feel small as I watch men and women in ridiculously expensive attire walk up to the bodyguards. One of the bouncers checks each guest against a list on his tablet before nodding to his colleague, who then proceeds to scan them with a high-tech metal detector wand.

“Are they inside?” I hear one of the guests ask.

“Yes, greeting folks as they arrive. Max and Ivan, mostly. Artur is by the bar.”

“At least I know I’m in the right place,” I mutter to myself before working up the nerve to take my spot in the growing queue outside the Sokolov villa, though I have no idea how I’ll manage to fake my way inside.

It’s a good opportunity to observe. I focus on the older gentlemen. Some have brought female companions, each loaded with flashy diamond earrings and necklaces—displaying the kind of wealth that proves their upper social status. Others have brought what appears to be their young adult children.

The boys look excited but also a little intimidated. If the stories I’ve read about the Bratva are true, each of these events is an opportunity for the young men to present themselves before the Sokolov’s as potential lieutenants in the future, while the girls are elegantly dressed and on hand to inspire possible marriage offers.

That last thought rubs me the wrong way, especially as I watch a pair of beautiful young women sashay past the guards and up the villa’s white marble steps, disappearing inside beneath a shower of twinkling chandelier lights.

“Can I help you?” the bodyguard asks when it’s my turn. He takes a moment to measure me from head to toe. At least I had the sense to dress in a simple, but tight black dress and stilettos. Had I known they’d have this kind of guest list, I would’ve sprung for some flashier jewelry.

“My name is Lyric,” I reply with a soft smile, my heart racing. “I’m not on the list, but if you would kindly let Max, Ivan or Artur know that I’m here, I’m sure they’ll—”

“Get lost,” he cuts me off.

Another guest tries to take my place, but the urgency of my situation beckons me to try harder. “Please. Just check with them. It won’t cost you a thing.”

“It’ll cost time,” he retorts, still unimpressed.

“Okay. I’ll leave. But I hope you have a good excuse prepared for when the inevitable happens, and they ask why you didn’t tell them that I stopped by. Best of luck, buddy,” I say and turn to leave.

“Wait,” the guy replies, then appears to send a text.

My heart’s stuck in my throat. I can’t believe it worked. The bouncer receives an instant response and gives me a sour look.

“You can go in,” he says. “But you have to pass the metal detector first.”

“Sure thing. Thank you,” I shoot back and let his colleague wand me.

A minute later, I’m inside, marveling at the sight before me.

There are approximately a hundred people in here already, with at least another twenty outside. It’s a huge place and absolutely beautiful. I search for one of the guys, but I’m so easily distracted and uncomfortable that I don’t even notice Artur until he’s mere inches away, his hot breath tickling my cheek.

“What are you doing here, Lyric?” he asks, his voice low while embers burn in his grey eyes. I find myself mesmerized by them, unable to breathe, or even think. “I… I…”

“You, what? You decided to waltz right into the lion’s den? Do you have any idea how many of these people wouldn’t even bat an eye before shoving you in their trunk?”

He’s angry. A split-second later, he takes me by the arm and discreetly guides me up a flight of circular marble stairs. On the upper level, it’s quieter. Darker. Glancing back, I realize they’ve got a security detail stationed at the bottom of the stairs.

“What do you mean?” I ask Artur, then take a moment to silently admire him more thoroughly.

He looks dashing in his dark grey shirt and black silk pants. His ink-black hair is slightly curled and stylishly tousled over his forehead, his gaze glued to my lips. “You’re lucky that nobody recognized you as Matthew Phelps’s daughter is what I mean,” he replies. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

He takes me into a large bedroom. This is a man’s place. Every inch is masculine and dominant, meant to attract and devour its beholder.

Unsurprisingly, my mere presence in this personal space turns me on.

“How’d you know where we live?” he gives me a troubled look, then narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Did your father put you up to this? Bowman?”

“What? No,” I shoot back and yank myself free from his hold, momentarily offended. “No. I went on the internet.”

“The internet?”

“Not the regular internet. I didn’t use typical search engines,” I mumble, trying to keep it sweet and short so I don’t incriminate myself any further. But Artur can see right through me, and a devilish grin stretches across his lips. “What have you been playing at, Lyric?”

The door opens and I freeze for a moment. Max and Ivan join us, both of them equally concerned and surprised. And just as handsome, wearing black tie ensembles that make their broad shoulders appear broader, their jaws sharper. I’m starting to think this was a bad idea. I can’t even think straight anymore.

“Hey,” I manage, along with a shy smile. “Sorry to show up here like this.”

“Lyric was just about to tell me how she found out where we live,” Artur grumbles, nowhere near interested in cutting me any slack.

“I do a lot of research work online, using a multitude of channels, platforms, and search engines,” I sigh deeply. “And since I had no way of reaching you, I started using those tools to find you. I came up with this address, and, well… ta-dah.”

It comes out a tad flat.

“You are beyond reckless,” Max decrees. But he can’t take his eyes off me, either. “Do you have any idea what kind of people we’re entertaining tonight?”

“Artur mentioned something about me ending up in the trunk of a car if anybody were to recognize me,” I mumble. “And no, I didn’t consider any of this until now. I wanted to talk to you. The three of you.”

“We’re going to have to sneak her out of here,” Ivan tells Max.

“Are you not listening? I said I wanted to talk to you.”

Suddenly, all three are watching me like hawks. Their eyes are wide and flashing, their lips slightly parted, hunger emanating from them. The tingling in my core intensifies with each passing second of sexually charged silence.

“I saw my dad’s campaign rally on TV,” I manage to gather some of my thoughts. “I just wanted you to know that I don’t condone anything he said. That’s his bullshit, his train to ride, not mine. I swear I have nothing to do with him, Bowman, or anything that they promote.”

“We know,” Max replies.

“Well, I needed you to hear it from me,” I say. “I don’t like where this is headed. For the record, I don’t condone your activities, either. I’m trying to keep my nose clean, to focus on my work, my doctorate thesis, my research.”

“And yet you decided to show up here tonight,” Artur replies with a half-smile. “You’re looking for trouble, Lyric. At least admit it.”

“You three were supposed to come see me on Friday.”

“Judging by the recent developments, you have to understand why we decided to take a step back instead,” Max replies, moving closer.

His cologne, powerful and hypnotizing as usual, fills up my senses. I’m shaken and stirred as he brings a hand up to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “You could’ve at least called me,” I murmur, my breath already faltering.

“Fair enough,” he whispers as he captures my mouth in a mind-shattering kiss.

Any reservation I had is gone. I’m helpless, defenseless, against these three towering men. All I can do is give in to their power, to surrender, and let them claim me once again. It is the reason why I came here and I might as well admit it.

“We have guests downstairs,” Ivan reminds us, though he’s staring at me, watching as Max devours my lips while Artur moves behind me. “Fucking hell, you’ll be the death of us, Lyric.”

“Honestly, I just wanted to talk,” I say, gasping when Artur rolls my dress up and sneaks a hand between my legs. “Oh, wow.”

Max trails kisses down the side of my neck as he unbuttons his jacket. Ivan begins removing his clothes, as well, enjoying the show as my dress ultimately ends up on the floor.

“You naughty little minx,” Artur chuckles and smacks my bare ass. I welcome the ticklish sting with a grin. “You’re not wearing any underwear.”

“I had my reasons.”

“You show up looking like this, what did you think was going to happen?” Artur whispers in my ear.

We lose control of the situation. Quickly. Our minds abandon us, our bodies taking over.

“Looking like what?” I manage in between stormy kisses.

“Like you,” Ivan says, and takes me in his arms.

He’s naked and hard as a rock. Artur’s fingers slide between my wet folds, testing and tempting me into the sweetest madness. Max takes the rest of his clothes off and just like that, I am once more surrounded by three sculpted wonders of men. Ropes of muscle, smooth skin, a plethora of tattoos and scars to behold, and hard cocks twitching, aching for me.

“I don’t want you to push me away because of my father,” I manage to say as Artur finger-fucks me into a savage frenzy.

The pressure tightens into a ball and my knees feel weak as I hold on to Ivan, my fingers digging into his bulging shoulders. His tongue wrestles with mine, and I taste a lustful haven on his lips as I let him consume me.

“We can’t do this forever,” Max says. “You’d be in danger, Lyric. We’ve already crossed so many lines here.”

“I don’t care,” I reply, reaching the edge of reason. “Take me. Please.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Max snaps and takes me over to the bed. “Come here,” he commands as he sits down. When I hesitate, unsure of what he wants me to do, he beckons me closer then pulls me down on his lap.

I mount him as he lays back. He fills me to the brim, stretching my slick pussy into sweet ecstasy. He’s restless, eager to take me, but I quickly realize there’s a new twist as Ivan climbs onto the bed and settles behind me.

“Don’t move,” he commands, as I glance back at him.

Artur jumps in, positioning himself before me, his long arms reaching until he’s holding on firmly to the bed’s upper frame. His cock beckons me to taste him just as Ivan works his way inside me.

“Oh God!” I cry out, as Ivan joins his brother.

My pussy stretches, dripping wet and aching with the most delicious torment. I have two monstrous cocks claiming me, and a third that is dangerously close to my lips. This is the next level, and all I can do is follow their lead.

I’m so turned on and burning hot on the inside, desperate for release.

“Take it,” Artur tells me, darkness filling his eyes. “All of it, like a good girl.”

“You need to know what you’re getting yourself into,” Max growls, planting his heels into the mattress and ramming into me.

“Ah!” I gasp as Ivan thrusts himself deeper, as well.

It’s a slow set of movements at first, as I work to get used to this double girth. Soon, however, my body welcomes every motion. Ivan’s hand reaches around, his fingers eager to tease my clit. I’m so close now, I know I’m going to explode. I can feel the pressure building more and more.

“All of it,” Artur insists as he glides down my throat.

I relax my jaw and lose my breath as I let him in, as I lick him from hilt to tip, tasting the precum as Ivan starts pounding into me like the beast that he is. My screams are muffled as I suck Artur harder while Max fucks me faster and deeper.

I come hard, tears streaming down my cheeks as they continue to claim me.

Harder, faster, deeper.

I ripple outward like an exploding sun, my whole body convulsing while my pussy aches with raw pleasure. I love the sound of each thrust, of skin slapping skin. I gush all over Max, my juices flowing as I am claimed and devoured. They hold me in every which way, hands roaming up and down my body.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Max grunts as he thrusts himself upward.

My breasts bounce gleefully as he comes hard and fills me with his seed. Ivan growls and plunges into me, rubbing my clit until I can’t stand his touch anymore, but he doesn’t stop until I explode again, until I’m soaking wet and quivering as he, too, spills all of himself inside of me.

I drink Artur’s every drop at the same time.

The madness is simultaneous and perfectly synchronized. The possession is shameless and absolute. I don’t want this to end. I need more. I want more. I want it all.

But I can’t have it all. Not tonight.

Max, Ivan, and Artur have a slew of dangerous guests to entertain, and I know I can’t stay.

“That’s all for tonight,” Max says, gently kissing my lips as Artur helps me put my dress back on. I’m sore but momentarily sated, unable to wipe this lazy smile from my face. My core is still singing from that string of mind-blowing orgasms. “We’ll see you soon, Lyric. I promise.”

“You said that before,” I mutter.

“It’s different this time, although not ideal, given the circumstances. But we clearly have something going on here, and I intend to make the most of it.”

“Just as you do,” Artur adds.

I watch as they dress themselves back to perfection. No ruffled feathers whatsoever. Not a single hair out of place. Their bounce back skill is unrivaled, while I feel like a spool of string that has been thrown down a long flight of stairs, unraveled and internally disheveled, still reeling from the most wonderful kind of madness.

“I’m not sorry for coming here tonight,” I tell them, my heart beating faster with each word of my shy confession. “But I want more.”

“So do we,” Ivan replies, and pulls me into a short, but hard, reassuring kiss. I taste a hint of whiskey on his lips. “Tonight, however, we have some pieces to move across the chessboard. You can’t be seen here.”

“I understand.”

Max takes my hand. “I’m not sure you do, Lyric. The people downstairs hate your father and what he’s trying to do.”

“We’re not trying to scare you but it’s the truth. Those people down there, they’re our people,” Artur adds with a stern look on his face. “We’re working hard to convince them to move their businesses into a more legitimate direction, but we’re fighting decades of ironclad traditions, not just the dirty Feds or other mob families. We have our work cut out for us, and you, Lyric…”

“I, what?”

“You’re our weak spot,” Ivan mutters, stepping away to properly gather himself.

“Your weak spot,” I whisper, not sure how I’m supposed to feel about it.

The words cause a smile to test Max’s lips, but they almost taste bitter on mine. “It’s meant to be a compliment,” he says, lowering his gaze.

I understand. And since we don’t yet fully know what this thing is between us—only that we want to keep at it despite the growing adversity—it’s better if we don’t give anyone the chance to use me against them. I have enough of a grasp on Max, Ivan, and Artur’s plans to recognize that they’re in the middle of a massive shift of operations. It's all about to change, supposedly for the better.

But old minds are the ones who resist change the hardest.

So if I want this to go somewhere safe and beautiful, as I dare imagine it could be in my mind, I need to play my part and keep myself safe. Coming here was risky as hell, though I don’t consider it a mistake. I didn’t know I’d be walking into a mob party.

“Come on, let’s get you out the back door,” Max says. “I’ll have one of my security guys escort you to your car.”

“I’m parked two blocks south of here.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re still under our protection.”

My heart grows upon hearing those words.

Carefully, the guys take me out of the master bedroom and down the back staircase. Our goal is to slip past the thinning crowd in the hallway, dart through the kitchen, and out the back door.

“Come with us, Yuri, I need you,” Max tells the bouncer who let Artur and I upstairs in the first place.

A big man with eyes of steel and a humongous jaw, Yuri gives his boss a nod and follows along. But as we make our way through the enormous kitchen—currently occupied with buzzing waiters and a rather loud chef with a thick, French accent—a woman’s voice causes Max, Ivan, and Artur to freeze in their tracks.

“You invited me here and now you’re avoiding me?”

I’m still and quiet as a mouse, partially hidden behind the mountain that is Yuri. Instinctively, Artur’s hand comes up and discreetly pushes me closer to him without even looking at me.

I glance around the big guy’s arm and see a tall, gorgeous blonde with sapphires for eyes, her slender figure wrapped in a shimmering silver dress, her pretty sights set on the Sokolov men.

I recognize that look. I have it as well where Max, Ivan, and Artur are concerned. I feel it somewhere deep within my bones, and it causes a tightness to thicken in the pit of my stomach as the guys slowly turn around to face her.

She hasn’t seen me yet. I doubt she can spot me behind Yuri, so all I can do is stand still and listen. Watch. And hold my breath in fear of discovery.

“Polina,” Max says, offering a polite smile. “We were just about to come back to the party. Why don’t you wait for us by the bar?”

“Oh, no, darling, I was looking for you three away from the party,” Polina replies with a charming grin as she steps closer, hips swaying in a seductive manner. She’s itching for them, I can tell. It pisses me off. “I’m not interested in talking about the weather with Elena Ratkoff, for heaven’s sake. I came to see you three.”

“We just need a minute,” Artur says.

She reaches out and gently caresses his face. “You look handsome as ever. I’ve missed you. I can’t wait a minute longer.”

“You forget yourself,” Artur shoots back, his demeanor quickly shifting into something akin to muted hostility. “You forget where we left off, Polina.”

“It’s why I insist on talking to you away from the others,” Polina tells Artur. “We didn’t end things the right way, and I understand you’ve found yourselves in need of my father’s support. I think we all know you’re not going to get that until we can arrive at some kind of agreement, first.” She moves closer to Max and rests both hands on his chest. That sends my blood boiling to the point where I can barely breathe. “Come on, Max. Let’s see if we can find a better ending to our story.”

“Polina, things are a little complicated right now,” Max politely replies. “There’s a reason why we organized tonight’s party, why we wanted you all here.”

“Yes, yes, and all of that can wait. The master bedroom is still upstairs, right?” she asks and gives Ivan a curious glance.

Among the three, Ivan appears to be the most unsettled and affected by her presence, which comes as a surprise to me. He is usually the coldest, the hardest to rattle. Yet this Polina chick seems to have quite the effect on him. The longer it goes on, the uglier it feels. The harder it becomes for me to breathe and remain upright.

“Alright, Polina,” Max ultimately concedes. “Let’s go talk in my private study.”

He gives Yuri a slight nod. I suppose Yuri has just been tasked with getting me out of here on his own, and he knows it. Polina hooks her arm around Max’s waist, and I have a mind of tearing the hair off her head, one strand at a time.

“Why don’t we go straight to the bedroom. We know where this is going anyway,” she giggles.

Hearing that, I want to stick around and see what Max says, but Yuri starts backing away from them and toward the door, automatically forcing me to back away, too. I curse under my breath as we slip past the service staff and out the back door, having left the men and Polina behind.

Outside, it’s dark and quiet. Security cameras are mounted everywhere, the automatic motion sensors on the garden lights flicking on as we rush along the stone path leading toward the back gate.

“Who the hell is Polina?” I snap.

“Polina Larionov. She’s an important figure in the Bratva,” Yuri says without even looking at me.

There’s a story there. A past I know nothing about. A degree of intimacy that Polina is clearly trying to rekindle while I was kept hidden behind Yuri. I know they did it for my safety, yet I can’t help but feel like I’ve just been thrown aside after a good romp upstairs. I can’t help but feel used and tossed away. It’s an irrational emotion, and somewhere deep down I’m aware of that. It doesn’t stop the tears from pricking at my eyes, though.

“Keep moving,” Yuri says as we walk down the street. I keep hesitating and looking back at the Sokolov villa. “No one can see you.”

“How do you even know who I am?” I ask, slightly irritated.

“I’m Max’s chief of security,” Yuri replies. “I know everything. I’m the one who allowed you access into the house, and I’m also the one who told Max you were coming. Which, by the way, you really shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m the enemy.”

Yuri nods once, still nudging me along. “Something like that, yes.”

“In that case, thank you for making sure I got out of there safe.”

“You are welcome.” He pauses for a moment as we reach my car. I have plenty more questions for him, but I’m fairly sure he’s not going answer any of them. “You should stay away from the Sokolov’s.”

I give him a curious look. “Why? I have nothing to do with my father’s campaign.”

“You’re putting them in danger.”

“How so?”

“They let Bowman go because of you,” Yuri replies, and only now do I hear the resentment in his voice. It sends shivers down my spine. “If anyone learns of your relationship with them, Miss Phelps, you won’t be the only one in trouble. There’s a lot of filth in this city, and I don’t mean just in the mob families. It’s also in the heart of the law enforcement system. Do yourself a favor and stay away. Move on with your life. And let them move on with theirs.”

“Thank you for the insight,” I mumble, giving him a gracious nod before getting in my car.

I take off like there’s a tsunami coming after me.

I catch a glimpse of Yuri in my rearview mirror before I turn left and melt into the thickening evening traffic. My nerves are stretched thin. I’m jealous and afraid. I’m confused and constantly aroused. It can’t be healthy.

Maybe Yuri is right.

Maybe I should keep my distance.