taste your fette biscottate.”
“I bet you would,” she murmured.
I felt like she was flirting with me, a drastic change from the fierce attitude I’d first encountered.
I decided I liked both sides of her.
As before, she ate with a hearty appetite, another thing to appreciate about her. None of the typical American female concern about ingesting carbs or rich foods.
At one point, Lucia licked maple syrup that glistened on her lips just like my cum had.
My lust had only briefly been sated. I could’ve fucked her several more times last night. Already my thoughts turned to swiping all the dishes off the table, sitting her right on the very edge, and pulling up my chair to feast on her plump cunt.
I tried to concentrate on eating instead of stuffing her with my hard cock, but I still studied her at length.
In the end I asked, “Whose gun was that?”
“What?” Shimmery eyes rose to mine.
“The one you had that night.” The one in my safe.
She bit into her bottom lip, a delicious habit she had. “It was one of Bas’s.”
“Ah.” I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Whatever happens, when you go, I will give it back to you.”
Lucia frowned. “What does that mean?”
It means I don’t know what will happen to you.
Yet I said nothing, instead standing up. “Come now.”
“Where are we going?” Trepidation leaked into her voice.
“Yury’s house.”
“Why?”
“I must talk with him.”
It was a solid forty-minute drive to the estate. Yury preferred what he jokingly referred to as the quiet life, saying he’d had enough of the city in Moscow.
I often wondered if he got bored. As far as I knew, he rarely relieved himself with a woman and, though he stayed on top of every aspect of our black-market guns trade, his higher position as pakhan was a far cry from Gulag gang leader.
During the ride—one Bratva vehicle leading ahead and another following behind—Lucia intently stared out the window as if memorizing the route.
Little good it would do her.
The mansion was impregnable—she’d only get in and out with me escorting her.
Two soldiers stood guard at the gate, and they let me pass through. I followed the long driveway to park in front of the expansive stone house that sat among impressive grounds.
Inside, my hand at the small of Lucia’s back, I guided her through the foyer.
“Sasha!” I bellowed, my voice echoing.
“What? God.” She appeared at the first landing of the wide, winding staircase. “I’m not some servant you can just shout for, you know.”
“Oh, I know. Servants behave much better than you do.”
Lucia might’ve snickered beside me at that.
“What do you want now?” Flicking brown curls over one shoulder, Sasha crossed her arms over her chest.
“I must speak to Papa. Keep this one occupied for me.” I pointed a finger up at the precocious heiress. “And behave.”
“Of course, Arkady. Whatever you say, Arkady,” she replied in a saccharine voice, dropping into a mocking curtsy.
“You’re leaving me with her?” Lucia whispered.
“Heard that,” Sasha called down.
I pushed my captive toward the stairs. “Don’t make trouble.”
Reasonably certain those two women could get up to very little mayhem inside the well-guarded mansion, I left in search of Yury.
I located him, as expected, in his big den.
Rich wallpaper decorated the walls, Russian antiques and old-world weapons took pride of place, and the room overlooked formal gardens where—in September—flowers gave up the last of their summer blossoms in riotous colors.
Yury sat in a large chair in front of the unlit fireplace. “Arkady.”
“Papa.” I bent my head toward him then joined him.
As I sat across from him, he poured two vodkas, and I lit a cigarette.
The French doors opened to a stone patio, the slight breeze sucking the smoke away, and Yury likewise lit a cigar.
Then he said in his brusque tone, “You brought your girl here.”
“She is not my girl,” I grumbled.
A knowing smile etched across his mouth. “Da. Just as Joanna was not Kirill’s.”
I let his comment go, drinking the vodka instead of replying.
“We expect more retaliation from the Sicilians?” He blew lightly across the end of his cigar, making the embers glow.
“Possibly. I tried to head off any other blowback last night.” Sinking deeper into the chair, I glanced at an ancient engraved shashka displayed above the mantle.
I’d surely like to have the sabre in my arsenal.
Turning back to the pakhan, I said, “Lucia’s father came for a visit.”
Yury leaned his elbows on his knees. “He wants the girl back, da?”
I nodded. “Only to finalize his bargain with Sabato.”
“You did not kill Don