The Russian Bodyguard: A Dark Mafia Romance (Krasnov Brothers Book 3) Page 9

  After a good half hour, the trio reappeared.

  I didn’t notice Jo or Lucia at all, because Sasha managed to captivate me once again. Her outfit for the reception consisted of a white leather blazer sharply cut to her busty figure coupled with slim white leather pants and very tall silver stilettoes.

  I was loathed to admit I’d wanted to be the one to peel her luscious body from the unforgettable wedding gown, but this combination of white and leather and glowing skin was a head-turner in a different way. I hoped she still had the corset on underneath, and a wolfish grin crossed my lips when I caught a hint of the lingerie’s lace peeking out beneath the deep V of the blazer.

  Arkady, who had joined me and Kirill, glanced from me to Sasha and murmured, “Maybe it’s time for longest kiss.”

  Ordinarily, I’d flat out refuse his suggestion but hunger for the woman bolted through me, and what better way to again make my possession crystal clear for all?

  “Da.” I was game for the toast proposed by my oldest brother, and I knew Sasha would never back down from a challenge.

  With Kirill escorting my beautiful bride over to me, Arkady did the honors.

  Raising a glass, he boomed, “Za-Molodykh!”

  For the newlyweds.

  I knew Sasha understood what was about to take place when Kirill took a sip of the champagne and loudly declared, “Gor’ko!”

  Too bitter. Which meant Sasha and I had to kiss for as long as possible in order to sweeten the wine.

  Her eyes grew wide before her lids fluttered down demurely. She licked her lips, barely resting her palms against my chest as I drew her in.

  Her timidity, so very unlike her, ignited a deeper blaze within me.

  With the first touch of our mouths, I had to curtail the groan rumbling from my chest. I was greedy to taste every part of her body, and this longer sampling of her lips and her tongue made my groin tighten and my cock harden.

  When I broke away, I stared at her puffy lips with a sharp shot of lust.

  And I smirked anew when Yury’s boisterous voice rang out, “Still too bitter.”

  Another kiss to enjoy in front of everyone. That time no soft foray as I swept her completely into my embrace. I thrust my tongue into the heat of her mouth and swirled all around hers before jerking her higher and tighter against me. The leather of her outfit was as sleek as the inside of her mouth, and all within was pure heat.

  Claps erupted, so I imagined the champagne had been sweetened enough by our smoldering kisses.

  Releasing Sasha’s lips with a last succulent suck, I pulled back.

  She listed against me like a willow in the breeze, and I slowly set her back down on her feet.

  I clinked a glass to hers while she remained seriously flustered and perfectly speechless. Then I turned to my brothers, male satisfaction brimming through me.

  Even while I talked to the two, Sasha didn’t stray far.

  Good girl. She was already learning.

  “Now you are in for it.” Arkady toasted his vodka to my drink, his gaze gliding to the female who’d always been the source of all my misery.

  “Stuck with her.” Kirill smirked while Jo beside him rolled her eyes.

  Ah, what were brothers for?

  I shrugged loosely. “You’re the one married to Jo. She’s the biggest loose cannon of them all.”

  The petite, heavily pregnant redhead suddenly rounded on me. “Dayumn, Maksim. And here I thought you liked me.”

  Her comment held no malice though. She snuggled up to Kirill and winked at me.

  Then she winced and kind of shook her head at me, and I had a feeling I knew what was coming next.

  Sure enough, Lucky joined the group and cut his eyes in my direction. “I don’t know. I think real congrats are in order.”

  I still wanted to punch his fucking face through a wall. It didn’t matter that he was in essence extended family.

  Sasha had carried a torch for him, swooned over him, and made no bones about talking him up in front of me. Most likely because she knew that raised my hackles like the street dog I was.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to say something crude about Sasha, but I wouldn’t do that. Even though she and I had butted heads for the better part of a decade, she was my wife now.

  I might not have been born into the mafiastocracy but I did know how to behave.

  Sometimes anyway.

  Lifting a glass to the Irishman, I agreed. “Believe me, I know how fortunate I am.”

  7

  Sasha

  “BELIEVE ME, I KNOW how fortunate I am.”

  What?

  Seriously what had Maksim just said?

  Silence settled among the tight ring of people including Maksim, Kirill, Lucky, and Jo for way longer than a heartbeat while I felt like smacking my own head to make sure I wasn’t suffering from auditory hallucinations.

  Lucia and I stood just several paces away, she sipping her champagne, me wishing I could get an IV hooked up to mainline my drink of choice right into my veins.

  Had I really just heard Maksim correctly?

  After he all but pissed on me to mark his territory in front of our entire family, he’d really said he was lucky to marry me?

  I gulped the rest of the bubbly in my glass and quickly snagged another, Lucia wearing a secret smile that made me feel like she was reading me from the inside out.

  Maksim was arrogant. He was possessive. He was insufferably domineering. And as soon as the vows had been exchanged, he’d made sure to slam an Owned stamp all over my mouth in the form of his kiss.

  I’d thought about flirting with Lucky just for the hell of it—you know—to razz Maksim and get a rise out of him. What could I say? Old habits died hard. But I really didn’t have the best compass when it came to men. Hello? Jimmy-I’m-Just-Hooking-Up-With-You-For-A-Payday. And who could forget Oleg Kamenev? The Russian bastard who’d inadvertently set this misguided marriage in motion.

  Maksim had only married me to save me and to spare my papa further headaches over my discrepancies as an unattached female.

  As I glanced from Maksim’s so tall, so broad back to Lucky’s midnight black hair, I knew I wouldn’t trespass the bonds spoken.

  I owed Papa that much at least.

  Besides, Maksim was my favorite, most familiar enemy.

  What if I could affect him in a different, more womanly way? But Bratva men weren’t typically swayed by their women. Except Kirill had been by Jo. Likewise, Arkady by Lucia.

  What if Maksim, the youngest, was cut from the same cloth as his brothers? Theirs perfectly tailored. Maksim’s more crude, darker even . . . grittier.

  The truth was, Maksim had gotten to me in a strange way.

  The unexpected yet so serious compliment about my gown . . . he’d called me beautiful.

  His deeply voiced vows rumbling sure and true even though he’d just had to say man and wife instead of husband and wife.

  The garland crowning, which I hadn’t thought for a second he’d remember.

  The rings. Those insanely unique rings, the blood ruby set in black gold a stunning piece of jewelry.

  I supposed, like most girls, I’d fantasized about my wedding day. I definitely hadn’t imagined it taking place in an unfinished nightclub to a man that had been forced on me.

  And, even though my mother would never have been with me for the day, I wanted everything else. The perfect gown, alllll the flowers, a million attendants, and the man of my dreams.

  I’d been selfish.

  Maksim is my husband.

  For better or worse.

  Those kisses he’d laid on me had been far better than any I could’ve imagined. The kiss marking the seal of our vows a soft, slick, sensual introduction of his lips to mine, regardless of the meaning behind it . . . you are mine. As far as I was concerned, the first longest kiss had ended too abruptly. He’d mastered me to his tongue and the warm firmness of his lips until I’d stopped breathing altogether.

 
The third kiss was by far the best. He’d come at me as hot as a firebrand, slipping straight into my mouth to lick ferociously all around. I knew his jaws were working while he hauled me tight against his hard body—hard in all the right places, soft in none.

  A gruff voice coming right beside my ear broke me out of my thoughts.

  Ah, Maksim. He could never know I’d just been reliving the searing sexiness of our first kisses.

  “What?” I shifted toward him to find his gaze slowly returning from a trip to my cleavage, which was artfully revealed by the awesome cut of my blazer.

  A swirl of heat licked at his eyes just like he’d licked his way into my mouth earlier. “It is time to eat, Sashenka.”

  Realizing I’d probably zoned out during half of my conversation with Lucia—had she been talking about final plans for The Hammer?—I moved along as Maksim escorted me. His hand remained strong and firm on my lower back, long fingers trailing fire to the top of my ass.

  He seated me first at the big table for the banquet arranged by Baba. He pushed me in solicitously before taking his seat on my right.

  I focused on the traditional Russian wedding nosh instead of the way Maksim snapped out his napkin and slipped it to his lap where the thick corded muscles of his thighs strained even the fine material of his suit.

  I wasn’t paying any attention to him at all. Nuh uhn.

  Right.

  Because Baba’s food was the feast for the eyes, not the man I was now married too. Not at all.

  He ate with appetite but always with impeccable manners like he wanted to make sure he didn’t show himself up as the former street kid who’d been a criminal in the making at an early age.

  I knew more about his upbringing—or lack thereof—than I did about my own mother. The snippets and stories I’d heard mostly came from Baba and Papa, and the tales had dried up years ago—that part of the Krasnov brothers’ history becoming a closed book. Although Maksim, Kirill, and Arkady had never sugarcoated how bad it had been, they hadn’t talked about that shitty period of their lives either, not to me.

  The brothers Krasnov weren’t exactly sharers or carers.

  As I sat at the big banquet table, surrounded by loved ones, fatigue began to take its toll. It’d been such a long day, week, year . . . life.

  Even though I tried not to let the tiredness show—I was the self-proclaimed party girl, not the party pooper—Maksim somehow knew.

  Edging his chair toward mine, he muttered, “Are you all right?”

  “Of course.” I gave him a falsely bright smile.

  “More champagne?”

  “When have I ever turned down the good stuff?” Truth.

  “That’s my girl.” His smile strangely easygoing, he waved for another glass to be delivered to my place setting.

  Warmth from his words pulsed through me, or more likely that was from my replenished drink.

  Mm hmm, right.

  Disconcerted by his attention and all that had transpired between us, I decided to balance the bubbly with at least a few small portions of food. I needed to keep my head on straight where this man—my husband—was concerned.

  After the eating came the true entertainment as I managed to slip away from Maksim to go hang with my girls.

  Jo sat lazing in a padded booth, rubbing the enormous dome of her belly. Then she belched like a trucker, so loud I heard the burp as I made my way toward the table.

  “Oh god and here comes the heartburn. I’m buying me some damn shares in TUMS, tell you what.” Then she poked the side of her bulging tummy. “Listen, little one. This is your fault for making me eat so much I blimp out.”

  Lucia’s laughter tinkled out like glittering diamonds, and I chuckled too. How could I not? It didn’t matter that Jo was eons into her pregnancy—to hear her tell it—everything she said always came with a heavy load of snark.

  I settled in next to Lucia, hip-bumping her over to make more space.

  “I’m surprised you and Maksim made it all the way through the ceremony without drawing blood.” Jo braided her fingers together across her stomach, smirking.

  “I’m not,” Lucia murmured.

  “I’m just waiting for my annulment so we can end this joke of a marriage.” Gazing negligently down at my perfectly manicured nails, I tried so very hard to hide how unsettled I was.

  I couldn’t miss the stern glower directed at me from waaaaay across the room though. I didn’t know if Maksim had a sixth sense when I started talking smack about him or what, but his stare felt like the weight of a thousand chains coiled around my neck.

  “Are you though?” Jo decided to stir the pot, of course she did. “Waiting for an annulment would be a waste of a good man like Maksim.”

  “Word.” Lucia reached over to bump Jo’s fist, which was such an unlikely move for the most refined woman among us that I almost laughed.

  I was not laughing one little bit when she continued in a low murmur where Jo left off, “He might be quiet, but I’m willing to bet he knows exactly how to take care of a girl’s needs.”

  “And he’s fine as fuck,” Jo stated.

  As much as I wanted to disagree, I looked across the room at the man in question and . . . my pulse sped. Dark and ominous, Maksim was devastatingly good looking in a don’t-mess-with-me way, his silvery eyes mere slivers concentrated on me. Again, that unwanted tingle swept all the way to my long-neglected pussy, need pulling at the tips of my breasts.

  I snapped my gaze immediately back to the pair I considered more than friends. Jo and Lucia were closer to sisters than anything else.

  Regardless, I shot glares at both of them. “Have I told you how much I hate you ganging up on me?”

  Jo smiled wide. “Yessir! It’s consummation night.”

  “Bullshit.” I fiddled with my new rings.

  “Oh, someone’s getting lucky tonight.” Lucia winked and the two of them cackled it up.

  “But not me and Lucky.” Le sigh.

  “Gross.” Jo wrinkled her nose at me. “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

  “And you are not wed to him.” The frosty tone of the deep voice beside me brought heat straight to my cheeks.

  I glanced haltingly up, and up, and up.

  Maksim had appeared so suddenly—or so I thought—that I swallowed nervously.

  It looked as though he’d been raking his hands through his hair, but the ruffled black strands only added to his physical appeal.

  His eyes were as frigid as his voice had been, and I couldn’t look away.

  His hand came forward, and he circled my wrist. Before I could snatch my arm away, he flipped our palms, aligning our fingers before sliding his through mine.

  At the most simple touch, a heatwave slammed into me. His calloused fingers were long, strong, rough, his gaze just as penetrating.

  Tugging me up, he brought his mouth near my ear. “We are going to dance, wife.”

  Dumbstruck, I nodded, letting him guide me along. As the music changed, drifting softly from the sound system that had already been installed, we reached the center of the floor. Maksim spun me to face him then pulled me into the large hard lee of his body.

  I didn’t recognize the song but, then again, I could hardly hear the lyrics over the pounding of blood in my ears.

  I did hear lots of hoots and hollers, though, from all who gathered to watch.

  Busybodies.

  I turned my face into Maksim’s broad shoulder to hide my blazing cheeks, but he curled a hand into my carefully arranged hair and dragged my head back with the kind of masculine force that made a woman’s body weep.

  “Nyet. Look at me.”

  Swallowing, I obeyed his command.

  Our gazes met, and his compelled me to stay with him just as surely as his muscular arms held me right up against his frame. I couldn’t have ignored the thick ridge of his cock against my belly any more than I could deny the wicked sensation of desire licking at me right between my legs.

  T
he slow dance melted us together, and I felt consumed but barely touched.

  The air between us grew combustible, a powder keg waiting to explode.

  My body clamored for something it didn’t even recognize.

  Movements unerringly smooth, Maksim kept our bodies pressed together. Funny, the only other time I remembered dancing with him had been almost a year ago at Jo and Kirill’s wedding. He’d forced me into his arms when Lucky had been about to ask me . . .

  I almost stumbled over my own feet when a piercing possibility staggered me. Had Maksim really been about to beat-ass on Lucky all those times because he was jealous?

  As impossibly jealous as I was about Valeria?

  Something shifted imperceptibly between us.

  His sterling irises heated as though plunged in a forge, low-lidded eyes locking onto my lips.

  Lips that I wet delicately, softly drawing a slick line for him to follow.

  I felt rather than heard the rumble in his chest, and my hands folded over his strong shoulders.

  His head lowered slowly. Mine angled farther up. He was going to swoop down for a kiss, one I so very much wanted.

  And then . . .

  A shrill alarm jolted across the club, and Maksim bolted away from me in an instant.

  The blaring interruption was so Bratva typical I almost laughed.

  I swallowed my hysteria the second I caught Maksim’s stark eyes. He’d returned from doing something somewhere that turned off the alarm’s siren, but he didn’t look relieved.

  “Blyad.” Kirill had already palmed his gun. “What was that?”

  Maksim barely glanced at his brother while shedding his suit jacket and checking his handgun. “An alarm from The Cat and the Sickle.” He re-holstered his weapon. “I rigged it up a couple days ago to the system here.”

  “Fuuuuck.” Arkady wasted no time coiling his boleadoras into a lasso-like circle of deadly leather and stones.

  My papa stabbed out his cigar. “Like Bat Signal, da?”

  Papa was fast learning there was a lot to approve of with modern technology.

  My heart ricocheted around my chest as I watched all the men including the O’Sullivans and my father once again prepare to go to battle instead of sitting around and partaking of wedding cake.