Chapter 17

Audrey

I was so ashamed when Anton told Jason the truth, but I was also relieved. The cat was finally out of the bag, and there was nowhere left to hide. Jason had the truth—most of it, anyway—and he made his decision.

I am Audrey Fedorova, the daughter of a powerful Russian mobster. There's a price on my head, and no one around me will ever be safe unless I'm out of the picture. That's a hard pill to swallow, even now. It's what I didn't want Jason to know: how nuclear I am. How nuclear I've always been, even though it was never my choice.

My brother is right. There are some things we can leave behind, some things we can say no to. But there are also things we cannot escape, no matter how far we run. Things we just have to learn to live with.

Given that a baby is growing in my womb who will likely never meet their father, I have to figure things out fast. I have to pull myself together and find a way to live with my last name and the dangers that come with it. The last thing I want is for my child to grow up in fear.

"You're not going to tell Jason about the pregnancy, are you?" Anton concedes as he escorts me back to my hotel room. He's been so patient, so kind, and comforting while I've been crying my heart out and miserable.

I shake my head slowly. "If I tell him, he will have to choose between this child and his daughter. I don't know what that would do to him."

"You're so grown-up," my brother states.

Anton looks both ways, content to see two big fellas in black suits walking toward us from the fire escape door on the east end of the hallway. "Ah, here they are. Yuri and Andrei will be looking out for you while you're living here. You have my number on speed dial, as well."

"Thank you, Anton."

"Don't thank me yet. I don't know how any of this is going to work out, but I'm hoping to sit down soon with the eldest Abramovic to see if I can get him and his goons off your back somehow. Once all of this is cleared up, Papa will want you to come back home. You know that, right?"

"I do, but I won't go back, Anton. I can't."

Anton gives me a dry smile. "I know. Worst-case scenario, you get the hell out of Dodge and let someone else handle the sale of your apartment. I'll wire you some cash to keep you covered in the meantime."

"You've already done enough," I sigh deeply, unable to shake off the ache that has taken such a firm hold of my heart.

"We're family, Audrey. Whether you like it or not."

I roll my eyes at him, well aware of how it irritates him. "It's not you I have a problem with, Anton. It's Papa."

"And Vitaly, just a little bit. Admit it," he laughs.

"This is all because of Papa," I groan harshly. "If only he'd given me some space to figure things out for myself, to be myself, my own person, and not some possession that he's looking to sell to the highest bidder. We're in the twenty-first century, Anton."

He pauses and gives me a sad look, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "I'm sorry to see you suffer like this. You and Jason had something good going on. Something that wiped that worried crease from between your brows. For a long time, I thought that was just your face," he says, and I jokingly slap him on the shoulder. "Seriously, I am sorry. For a moment, I actually thought you would be happy out here on your own."

"For a moment, I actually was happy," I tell him. "I was an idiot to think it might work out."

"It could've," Anton says. "Maybe another time, another place. Until then, however, let's see if there's anything I can do to help you stay in Chicago. Perhaps once the clouds clear, Jason will see things differently and give it another go."

"Thank you, Anton."

He pauses to shake Yuri and Andrei's brick-sized hands. "Fellas, you know the drill. Nobody comes anywhere near this door. Not even the service staff unless Audrey tells you beforehand that she's expecting someone."

"Da, Boss. We've got her," Yuri replies with a thick Russian accent.

He and Andrei seem pretty young, most likely Moscow imports. The Fedorovs continue to support Russian immigrants coming to New York, often giving them jobs within our circles to help them get on their feet.

Occasionally, my brothers pick out the biggest and the strongest among them, training them so they can serve as a private security detail. If I'm to leave my personal issues aside, I have to admit that my family has given out more jobs across New York than the mayor himself.

"I'll be in touch," Anton says, then plants a kiss on my temple and leaves.

"I'll be going to bed early," I tell Yuri and Andrei. "I'm not expecting any company."

"Yes, Miss Fedorova," Andrei replies.

I leave them both outside my door and lock myself in my room. Taking deep, measured breaths, I get out of my clothes and jump into a hot shower. Letting the water stream down my body, I take my time to scrub the day's events out of my skin.

Once I'm squeaky clean and my muscles feel mildly relaxed, I pat myself dry and slip on a pair of silk pajamas. The minibar is loaded, so I help myself to some salty and sweet treats, washing everything down with orange juice while I turn the TV on.

A distraction is exactly what I need. Something to keep my mind off Jason.

And Lily. I'm going to miss that sweet girl. She's so smart and surprisingly mature for her age; then again, so was I, growing up without a mother. Life is rarely fair, but we learn to adapt, we learn to push through. I think Lily is going to be all right in that sense. With a father like Jason guiding her, I believe she will become a powerful and dangerous woman in the best way possible.

I would've liked to have been able to say a proper goodbye to both Lily and Rita. But it's all in the past now. Something else that I must leave behind.

My thoughts soon pull me away from the waking world, and I fall asleep with the TV on and a few empty treat bags discarded on the nightstand. My dreams are a greyish haze, familiar faces popping in and out of my frame as I try to find my way back to them. I keep running toward Jason, calling out to him, but I can't hear my own voice, even as I scream.

A loud thud has me sitting up, briefly wondering if I'm still asleep.

The darkness of my hotel room, its impersonal designs flaring out wherever the moonlight strikes through the window, reminds me of where I am and what I'm doing here. Did I dream the thud, or did the thud wake me? I'm not sure, but I am compelled to get out of bed and check. The room itself seems clear of danger.

Footsteps echo somewhere nearby. They sound rushed.

"Get him!" I hear Yuri shout.

My heart jumps. Immediately, I grab my phone and try to call Anton while simultaneously looking through the peephole. I can't see anyone, but the hallway is generously lit. There's no answer, but my instincts are ignited and exceptionally sharp.

I poke my head out through the door just in time to spot Yuri and Andrei drawing their weapons at the end of the hallway, close to the elevators.

The sound of muffled gunshots makes the blood rush through my body as Andrei is the first to fall, taking two rounds to the chest. Yuri tries to hold them off—whoever they are—but there are so many bullets flying out of guns fitted with silencers that my feet start doing my thinking for me.

I run out of the room and in the opposite direction, slipping through the fire escape door. I'm barefoot and still in my pajamas, phone in hand and my heart in my throat as I glide down the stairs. The same door I left through opens and shuts again. They're coming after me. I can hear their boots thudding, each step bringing them closer.

All I can do is run as fast as my feet can carry me.

I slip through the hotel's service entrance, damn near tackling an incoming concierge on my way out. "Sorry!" I mumble and keep running.

"Hey, watch it!" the guy shouts back.

I take a left turn at the end of the alley. I need to steer clear of the main streets. It's late at night, it's cold and damp, and I need to get somewhere safe until I figure out what I'm going to do next, until I can get a hold of Anton, at least.

My mind is rushing every which way until I reach a corner store. I'm panting, the cool air making my tired lungs burn, but I'm still not safe. I'm off the boulevard, however, and whoever is after me hasn't caught up just yet.

I remember that I've got a ride sharing app installed on my phone. With trembling fingers, I use it to call a car to my location, grateful I had the wherewithal to grab my phone when I ran out of my room. I keep looking around, ignoring all the curious looks from the late-night passersby.

Two minutes later, a grey Prius pulls up, its plates matching the ones in my app.

I get in the backseat and give the driver the first address that pops into my head. As the car drives off, I see them coming up to the corner, not that far behind on my trail. Four men dressed in black. I recognize one from his temple scar, but the others are unfamiliar.

They don't see me in the back of the Prius, and I slide down into my seat for good measure, worried that my heart might explode from what just happened. They came into the hotel with loaded weapons and silencers; they more than likely killed both Andrei and Yuri.

Even after two years of being away, my survival instincts are still sharp as a razor's edge. It's one of the few times when I'm actually proud to be a Fedorov because I know how to react when someone is literally gunning for me.

They're still out there, scattering across the street, angrily searching for me.

Jason's apartment building seems eerily calm, clad in darkness, with only the streetlights casting an amber tint across the brick fa?ade. For safety reasons, however, I instruct the driver to drop me off around the corner but only after we circle the block once so I can make sure there's no one watching Jason's place. The driver likely has questions, but he keeps them to himself, not minding the extra mile since it means a pricier charge at the end of the trip.

I get out of the car half a block down and choose to walk the rest of the way. Once again, I look over my shoulder and thank the stars that this is a residential neighborhood and that the street is practically empty at this late hour.

I go around the back of the building and punch in the access code, thankful—yet surprised—that Jason hasn't changed it.

Once I'm inside the building, I linger in the darkness of the stairwell for a while, struggling to catch my breath. My heart can barely handle all of this fear and anxiety. I try calling Anton again. Still, no answer. I'm starting to get worried, wondering if they were able to get to me because they got to my brother first.

I convince myself that isn't the case. Anton isn't stupid. He's better at hiding than I ever was, especially in hostile territory. I shake the terrifying thoughts away and run up the stairs. God, I hope Jason doesn't hate me for this. I guess I'm going to find out soon enough.

A couple of minutes later, I stand in front of his penthouse door, listening to the silence. I'm alone in the hallway, a stark white light coming down from the ceiling fixture just above my head. I am cold. I am scared and exhausted. I feel exposed. Yet, I somehow find the courage to knock.

It takes a while, but not as long as I'd expected, for Jason to open the door.

"Hey," I whisper, shaking like a leaf as the adrenaline leaves my body. I'm cold. So cold.

He looks exhausted and grim. "Audrey …" His gaze softens when he recognizes me. His eyes are tired and bloodshot. He wasn't sleeping. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm so sorry; I didn't know where else to go …"

Tears begin to stream down my cheeks, and I let it all out. I can't keep anything in me anymore. Tonight has been a fucking nightmare. Instinctively, Jason pulls me into his apartment and his arms, holding me tight as he shuts the door behind me.

I bawl like a little girl, my face hidden in his grey t-shirt, as he keeps me locked in his embrace. His heart thuds against my ear, and I listen to that drum beat, allowing it to soothe me. He doesn't say a word; he simply holds me and hears me out. I tell him about Yuri and Andrei, about what happened, and how I made it here.

"They didn't follow me, I swear," I whimper softly. "And I circled the block to make sure nobody saw me come in, either. I'm so sorry, Jason. I just … I had nowhere else to go."

"It's okay," he says, his voice low and warm. "I've got top-notch security on this building and armed bouncers on the ground floor. All of them are ex-Army buddies of mine. No one's going to make it up here without my say-so."

"My God, Jason, I brought the Bratva into your life. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"I know," he replies, gently cupping my cheek with his hand. "I've been thinking a lot. I couldn't sleep, Audrey. I felt bad about how I reacted earlier."

"You had every right to walk away."

He shakes his head. "No, baby. A man doesn't abandon the woman he loves." He pauses, waiting for the words to hit me. The gong bell rings in the back of my head, my gaze locked on his, my whole body softening in his embrace. "That's a fact, Audrey. I love you. And while I don't yet know how we're going to handle all of this, one thing is for certain—you showing up here in the middle of the night is my sign from God. I'm not letting you leave ever again, and I'm never turning my back on you, either. Forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," I mumble, and he kisses me. Deeply, lovingly, pouring all of his soul into the joining of our lips, tongues meeting. "I love you, too."

"We'll figure it out," Jason says. "But until then, we need to get you warmed up."

Careful not to wake Lily or Rita, we cross the penthouse and go into his ensuite bathroom. He helps me out of my pajamas and turns on the hot water. I reach for the brush to handle my messy hair, but Jason takes it away. "I'll do it. Get in the shower," he commands me.

Half-smiling, blushing like a peony, I take a couple of steps forward until the hot water stream covers my body. I welcome the heat and steam relaxing every muscle, my bones almost melting in the process. Jason patiently combs my hair until it's smooth and shiny again, then takes his clothes off and joins me in the shower.

"I'm going to take care of you tonight, baby," he says. "And tomorrow, we'll have breakfast and discuss our options. Okay?"

"Okay. I'm so sorry."

"Stop apologizing. I get it. It may not have seemed that way earlier in the tearoom, but I get it, Audrey. We all have skeletons in our closet. Some are worse than others. For a long time, I thought my past with Ramona was a heavy burden, but realizing where you come from, after having learned more about Grigori Fedorov and the New York Bratva, I have to say … I'm amazed you managed to get out and live for yourself at all. I'm in awe of you."

I stare at him, liquid sunshine flowing through my veins as I listen to his voice as I let him cover me with lavender-scented lather, gently cleansing me from top to bottom. His hands linger on my breasts for a while, but I don't mind, even though they're full and tender. He gently squeezes them, pinching the nipples between his fingers until they're hard and plump, naughtily perking up at his touch.

"Jason," I whisper, tilting my head back as he nudges me back under the hot water.

"Hold on, I'm not done yet," he replies, his gaze darkened with desire as his hand slips down and slides between my legs, fingers eagerly teasing my wet folds. "Oh, honey, you're already wet and ready for me."

"I'm always wet and ready for you," I moan as his finger circles my swollen clit, sending electrifying sensations through my limbs and up my spine. "Don't stop."

"I had no intention of stopping."

I hold on to his broad, muscular shoulders, watching the water droplets roll down his smooth skin as he works my pussy into an aching frenzy. We stand close together, my gaze wandering downward to find his cock hard and twitching to be buried inside me. Quietly, I let my hand do the same as his and gently stroke my man, slowly and steadily at first, to match his rhythm.

But he soon has me close to the edge, two fingers testing my entrance while the bottom of his palm is pressed against my clit. I move my hand up and down, squeezing at the base and softening my grip at the top, then reversing the movement as a droplet of precum gathers on his tip. I lick my lips, eager to taste it, but a crumbling orgasm rushes through, interrupting my plan.

"Oh, Jason!" I cry out as he finger-fucks me off the edge of the world, my pussy rippling under the shower's hot stream. I hold on for dear life, my nerves flaring, my hips grinding in a rocking motion as he squeezes every drop out of me. "I need you inside me right now."

"Right now?" he mutters in my ear, nibbling on the lobe.

"Right now."

"You're giving me orders?"

I pause and look up at him, biting my lower lip. "No, sir. I'm just stating my utmost desire. Will you please take me? All of me?"

He stares at me for what feels like a very long time. "I suppose so. Since you're asking so nicely. Turn around."

"Yes, sir," I giggle.

Somehow, the events of tonight have drifted away like sidewalk chalk under a heavy rain. The world outside has vanished altogether. I do as I'm told, turning around, eager to move as far away from reality as possible.

Gently, Jason guides my hands onto the marble-paneled wall in front of me. "Don't take your hands off unless I tell you," he says.

"Yes, sir."

"Such a good girl," Jason growls, then slaps my ass.

The sting burns through my buttock, quickly melting into raw pleasure, and I moan harshly, eagerly spreading my legs for him. Jason watches me for a moment, I can see his reflection in the polished marble.

"I love how the water runs down your body. I've missed your curves," he says, sliding the tip of his cock between my buttocks before moving downward to my glazed entrance. "Fucking hell, it's like coming home."

He fills and stretches me and I gasp, suddenly remembering precisely how big, how thick, how perfect he is. This monstrous erection of his was made for my throbbing pussy, like pieces of the same puzzle. My blood simmers as he takes his sweet time, getting reaccustomed to being inside me.

But then he slowly pulls back before thrusting himself hard and deep.

"Ah!" I manage, tempted to take my hand off the wall so I can touch myself. I'm in desperate need of another orgasm, especially now that he's fucking me from behind. It's my favorite position. But Jason won't let me.

"Hands on the marble, Audrey. Tell me what you want."

"Make me come, my love. Please."

"Why the rush?" he grunts and smacks my ass again.

I bite the inside of my cheek as the sensation swirls through me, making me slicker and slicker as he pounds into me, deeper and deeper. A rhythm grows between us, my breasts bouncing with every thrust.

Jason goes harder, one hand firmly holding me by the hip while the other slips around and cups my tender pussy. "Yes, sir!" I cry out when his fingers start flicking and rubbing my overly sensitive clit.

Instantly, a surge of volcanic heat shoots through me.

I clench myself tightly around his cock while he drives deeper, fucking me so hard that I can barely breathe. I can only listen to the sound of skin slapping skin under the running water, to his ragged breath and my moans of pure, unadulterated pleasure. I can only watch his reflection as he claims me, yet again, as I am close to unraveling.

"Come for me, Audrey. Right now!" he commands me.

I let go in an instant. I explode like a burning star, begging him to fuck me harder and harder, barely able to stand as he takes me, as he transforms into a mindless beast and devours me, as he dismantles me completely. Breaking me down and building me back up. I feel him come inside me, his cock pulsating in the throes of pure ecstasy. I welcome him wholly, tightening myself around him and squeezing every drop out of my man.

He bites into my shoulder, his low growl sending shivers down my spine.

I am his, and he is mine. Every damned inch.

I have no idea what will happen after tonight. I don't know where it ends. But being here, right now, in this precious moment, I understand one thing:

I couldn't walk away from him if I wanted to.