51. Radimir

51

RADIMIR

As the meeting broke up, Gennadiy reiterated that none of us should leave the mansion until this was over. “All of you are staying here,” he told us firmly. “I have plenty of room.”

I took Bronwyn up to the room I always used when I stayed over at Gennadiy’s, a first-floor bedroom with a huge, arched window overlooking the gardens. I sank down on the bed, suddenly exhausted.

“Level with me,” said Bronwyn, sitting down next to me. “How bad is this?”

I sighed. “ Bad .” I was silent for a moment. I’d always believed that a king had to stand alone, locked down tight, and never show weakness. And of course I’d never had anyone to share my troubles with. But that had changed, and so had I. I started to explain, the words coming slowly at first. “Since the truce began, years ago, my family—” I looked at her and corrected myself—“ Our family has focused on our legitimate businesses. But Spartak, he’s old school. He’s built a drug empire and an army. He’s prepared for war...and we’re not.” I closed my eyes, rubbed at them and groaned. I’d barely slept, I’d been traveling most of the morning, I’d had too much coffee to wake me up and too much vodka to try to calm me down. Chyort . I was a mess.

“I know what you need,” said Bronwyn softly. “Take off your clothes.”

I opened my eyes and looked at her, feeling my cock instantly rise and harden.

“Not that!” She swatted my arm. “I mean...maybe later. But no. You need a bath.”

For a second, I thought I’d misheard. But then she disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard water running. “ A bath? No!” I shook my head as she returned. I never took baths even in normal circumstances: I didn’t have time. “ Krasavitsa , that’s very sweet but it’s the middle of the day, we’re at war, I can’t?—”

She put a hand on each of my knees and leaned forward over me. “Is there anything you can practically do right now?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it again. Partially because she was right, partially because I recognized that tone and knew she wouldn’t budge and partially because it was very hard to think when her breasts swayed like that. “No…”

“Then you can have a bath. It’ll relax you and help you think.” She straightened up and crossed her arms. “You’re my husband now and I’m going to take care of you.”

Those icy, efficient cogs inside me that I was so proud of...they softened. Melted. God, I don’t deserve her. She was being the perfect wife...and I still couldn’t tell her about Vladivostok. I knew that keeping such a huge part of my past off limits was wrong, that it meant she could never fully understand me. But I just couldn’t face re-opening those wounds. I loosened my tie. “What are you going to be doing?”

She reached around to the zip on the back of her dress. “It’s a big bath…”

I stood and started shedding my clothes, suddenly much more enthusiastic.

By the time I was naked, the bath was ready. It was big, and antique, like most of the things in Gennadiy’s house, with clawed feet and softly curving edges that were comfortable to lean on. Bronwyn must have added something to the water because there were bubbles, and I could smell grapefruit and lavender. I’d been planning to climb in first, looking forward to having her ass pressed against my cock and her breasts in easy reach of my hands. But she insisted on getting in first and told me to lie back against her. I climbed in and….

Ohhh. The hot water rose around me, and I felt the tension start to ease from my body. I frowned. It was just possible that women, with their bath obsessions, were onto something. And then I lay gently back against Bronwyn and her soft, wet breasts pillowed against my back and... ahh. She gently touched my forehead and guided my head. I lay back against her shoulder and... wow. I felt relaxed and secure. This is what it feels like to be cared for.

I closed my eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of the bubbles. I’m going to smell like a woman. But I was already too comfortable to care. For a few moments, the only sounds were the lapping of water and the soft crackle of bubbles popping. Then Bronwyn said, “The other families in Chicago won’t help us, because they’re scared of The Eight. But what about in other cities?”

“The Eight scare everyone,” I said sleepily. “Every Bratva family, everywhere, obeys them.”

She went quiet for a moment, thinking. “What about the man you used to work for, in New York?”

“Luka Malakov. Yes, even him.” She’d been right about the bath: the warm water was relaxing me and that made my thoughts spin more easily. “About the only person in the Bratva who doesn’t listen to them is Konstantin.”

“Who?”

I felt my lips tug into a half smile. “Konstantin Gulyev runs most of New York. No one knows exactly how much money he has, but it’s billions. Some say he once bought up an entire TV network just so he could force them to keep making his girlfriend’s favorite show. And that he has a BDSM dungeon in his basement. And that when he kills his enemies, he has them encased in stone and made into statues, and there are statues like that all over his mansion.

I felt Bronwyn stiffen in horror. Then she said, “If he doesn’t listen to The Eight, that makes him the one person who might help us.”

I opened my eyes. She’s right. “In theory,” I said slowly. Then I sighed. “But he’d want something in return, and we don’t have anything he wants.”

“Tell me about his business,” she insisted. “Every detail.”

I looked round at her in surprise. And then I closed my eyes again and lay back against her breasts while I told her everything I knew about Konstantin, his empire and his network of allies. When I’d finished, she said nothing. She was silent for so long, I eventually twisted around to see if she’d fallen asleep. I found her staring into the corner of the room with furious determination, her red-brown eyebrows tilted sharply down. I could feel her brain working. She was trying to find a solution and she was doing it for me. For us. I felt my chest swell. God, I love this woman. It was useless, of course, there was nothing we could offer Konstantin. But just a few weeks ago, she’d hated my world, my empire. The fact she was fighting, even futilely, to save it was?—

“I think I know what we can offer him,” said Bronwyn. And she laid it out for me. Now I frowned. It sounded crazy, it was too... big. But as she talked me through it, quiet and persuasive, my perspective started to shift. Bronwyn had broken down Konstantin’s operations using her analytical business brain. I’d always thought of Konstantin’s and my empires as opposing cities, towering blocks of black and white facing off against each other. But now the blocks seemed to flip on their sides, the opposing blocks sliding together like a key into a lock.

“ Chyort ,” I muttered. “That’s clever . But he’ll never agree. People like us don’t make those sorts of deals.”

“If I persuaded you,” she said gently, “maybe we can persuade him.”

I thought about it. It was a desperate play. But a desperate play was better than no play. “I have no way of contacting him,” I thought aloud. “We’d have to go to New York. Ambush him and hope we can get him to talk to us.” I felt a cold, hard knot form in my stomach. “It’s risky. Spartak’s looking for us.” The thought of putting her in danger to save our empire made me want to throw up. But not trying her plan wasn’t an option, either: Spartak wasn’t going to stop until my whole family was dead and that included her. I twisted around to look at her. “I don’t suppose there’s any point trying to convince you to stay here while I go alone?”

She gave me an as if look and I felt the emotion well up in my chest. I loved that she was the one person who always stood up to me.

“Gennadiy won’t go for this,” warned Bronwyn. “He doesn’t want us to even leave the house.”

“Then we’d better not tell him we’re going.” I stood up, water sluicing off me. I felt energized. There was hope, however small, and it was thanks to her. I took her hand and hauled her up. The smile she gave me hit me right in the chest. It was nervous and hopeful and proud, and…

It felt like we were a team. I squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.

“Pack a bag,” I told her. “We’re going to New York.”