Page 221 of Filthy Promises

I milk him through it, coaxing every last drop, mesmerized by the raw vulnerability on his face. When he’s spent, I release him. But I don’t look away as I drag my fingers through the mess on my skin and bring them to my lips to lick them clean.

The taste of him is salt and sin and salvation.

“Jesus Christ, woman,” he croaks, watching me with dazed reverence. “You’re going to fucking ruin me.”

I smile, drunk on power and pleasure and the tangled web we’ve woven together. “That’s the plan.”

He pulls me to him, heedless of the sticky mess between us, and kisses me like a drowning man finding air. When we break apart, he presses his forehead to mine.

“We should go inside,” he murmurs. “Get you cleaned up.”

“In a minute,” I whisper.

I’m not ready to leave this moment, this car, this version of us—messy and exposed and perfect in our imperfection.

His hand cups my lower belly. “I’ll keep you safe, you know, Rowan. Both of you. Always.”

“I know,” I tell him. “I trust you.”

The strangest part is that I do.

64

VINCE

When we finally peel ourselves off the leather seats and stumble into the house, I take Rowan into the shower, bundle her in a bathrobe, and tuck her into bed. She’s out as soon as her head hits the pillow.

I’d love to join her. She’s a fucking angel, hair fanned across the sheets, cheeks pink, soft and perfect everywhere. I want nothing more than to slide in behind her, pull her into the hollow of my body, and keep her there forever.

But I have work to do.

Kevin Peterson.The name sits like garbage in my mouth. Rowan’s former boss from Marketing.

“We have the initial intelligence report, Vin.” Arkady places a folder on my desk, his expression uncharacteristically grim.

I flip it open and scan the contents. My blood cools with each line I read. The photographs inside show Kevin meeting with men I recognize immediately—Nikolai Barkov’s lieutenants.

Barkov.A second-rate player trying to climb the ranks by offering the feds information on established families. The Bratva equivalent of a rat fucking a snitch.

Arkady points to a second photo. “We intercepted a package exchange. USB drive containing financial records stolen from your company servers.”

I clench my jaw. “And the audio surveillance?”

“Even better.” Arkady slides a transcript across my desk. “Peterson’s been working with Barkov for months. They’re building a RICO case against you, targeting the shipping operation specifically. Well, they’re trying to.”

I scan the transcript, reading Kevin’s pathetic attempts at sounding like a player in our world. “Did we manage to get access to the drive contents?”

“Full copy.” Arkady nods. “It’s mostly legitimate business records, but he’s annotated them with his suspicions. Connecting dots that don’t exist, but?—”

“But enough to warrant investigation,” I finish. “Especially given the FBI’s existing interest.”

“Exactly.”

I lean back in my chair as I consider the situation. Six months ago, my response would have been automatic. Quick. Clean. Permanent.

But I made a promise to Rowan after she witnessed Igor’s near-execution.No more secrets. No unnecessary violence. A path toward legitimacy.

More importantly, I promised our child would have choices I never had.

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