The Devil's CrownPart Two - Monica James Page 0,143
is nothing hotter than Ella, the dominatrix. We are equals—in every sense of the word.
After what happened on Tura, Ella has made it her mission to help the children who have been exploited and sold into slavery. She’s thrown herself into this project, hosting fundraisers, bringing awareness to the cause, and also helps Mother Superior out at the orphanage because thanks to me, they have the resources for many more children to reside there now.
She’s found her calling in life, and it’s here where she’ll live that life out.
Ella knows that we can’t go to the police with the information I have, but that doesn’t mean I’m not dealing with it in my own way. She knows what that means. She doesn’t ask questions, but she can guess.
Just as she can guess how I rule. I’m still ruthless and murderous, but I make no apologies. Russia is better for it. Some say better the devil you know, and in this case, I am the devil they all know not to fuck with.
This life is the life I choose to live. It’s in the darkness where I thrive. I’m not the good guy, but I’ve come to learn there are worse men than me. And killing those men seems to balance out the good and bad I have inside me.
Ella loops her fingers behind my neck, kissing me deeply, always wanting more. Just as I’m about to bend her over the kitchen counter, ignoring the doctor’s orders about refraining from strenuous activities, a loud clearing of a throat has me putting my plans on hold.
“You sure have a lot of energy for an old man,” Saint quips, helping himself to an apple from the fruit bowl.
Ella snorts while I shake my head.
“Remind me why I gave you a key,” I playfully retort.
“Sorry, Ella, but we gotta bounce,” Saint says, hinting if we’re going to do this, now is the time.
Where we’re going excites me immensely. So I nod.
“I’ll see you soon.” I kiss Ella’s cheek.
“Oh, before I forget, Willow wanted to know if you needed any help with the renovations at the orphanage.”
Ella smiles. “That would be awesome. I’ll call her now.”
Who would have thought Willow and Ella would be friends? Life does work in mysterious ways.
Even though my house is a fortress and Sascha is now my personal bodyguard, I can’t help but worry about Ella.
She senses my concern. “Take your time.”
I forget Saint is feet away and lower my mouth to Ella’s, kissing her deeply. Her hair has grown longer, which allows me to run my fingers through it and pull—hard.
“Okay, maybe hurry a little,” she says from around my lips.
With a chuckle, I pull away, cupping her cheek. “I love you, красавица.”
She smiles, just as she does every time she hears me profess my love for her. “I love you too.”
And for that, aren’t I the luckiest man alive?
Leaving my family behind, I meet Sascha, who stands at the front. “Call if you need me.”
He nods with a slanted smirk. “I won’t, but okay.”
Saint grins as he and Sascha have become good friends. Sascha is where Saint once was—my righthand man—but everything is different now. No one is here against their will.
The three women who played my submissives now live a comfortable life away from devious men like me.
Celine still won’t accept a pay raise even though she is now looking after four children. But with my house filled with friends who constantly want to spend time with them, she barely has any time alone with the kids.
All in all, my life is far from being the Russian kingpin that I am.
But when the witching hour is upon us, it’s a whole different story.
Patting Sascha on the back, I walk toward Saint’s black truck. My injuries are healing, but I still walk with a cane on nights such as this. We get into the truck, and Saint commences the hour drive.
As always, I scope out my surroundings because even though I killed Santo, I’m not naïve in thinking that one day, his sons and wife will be out for my blood.
The Macrillos have kept their noses out of my business as they’re outnumbered. They saw what I did to their family, and after the bombshell I dropped about Santo, maybe their revenge can wait. Santo isn’t worth the bloodshed.
But some people are.
I flick through the stations on the radio, stopping when I come across a classical piece. Classical music always gets me in the mood.