Page 58 of Brutal Reign
Ornate gates open in front of us, and Pavel drives forward. I stare out the window, caught off guard by the beauty of everything. I’d expected gray walls and iron fences, something severe and institutional, but this place looks like a cross between a resort and a country club.
A heavily fortified country club.
Light glints off the white lines of a tennis court tucked between trees, and beyond that, I see what looks like a basketball court and a huge gazebo surrounded by wildflowers. The road splits, with lanes branching in different directions through perfectly manicured grounds dotted with trees.
“My house is just ahead.” Pavel gestures. “The others are further out on the property.”
I follow his gaze and spot a long driveway curving to the left. Another branches off toward a sprawling stone house with a wide front porch and elegant columns.
“What others? Is this some sort of gated community?”
“You could say that.” He glances at me, one hand loose on the wheel. “It’s a compound for high-ranking Syndicate members,” he explains without going into details.
Perfect. Not only was I forced to marry one of my father’s killers, but I now get to live with all of them.
In the distance, I spot an impressive playground with a bright-red slide, a tire swing, and a rope bridge that Kin would lose his mind over.
“There are other kids here?”
He hesitates for a moment as if weighing whether to share this information. “Maxim and his wife, Kira, have three kids. Their middle boy, Alexei, is about the same age as Kin.”
His warm palm lands on my thigh, and he gives it a squeeze. I stare down at his hand. It’s big and rough, with tattoos curling over his knuckles. How had I not noticed that these aren’t the hands of a writer? These are the hands of a dangerous man.
But they’re also the hands that held me with surprising gentleness, that traced my skin like I was something precious. Even knowing who he really is, it’s hard to forget the way he made me feel. Or how damn attractive he is with that sharp jaw and chin cleft.
Nope. Not going there.
“When the time is right, I’ll introduce Kin to the other kids.”
“I don’t want him playing with Maxim Belov’s kids, or anyone from the Syndicate for that matter.”
My hands twist in my lap. I hate that I’m denying Kin a friend his age, because he deserves a playmate. But preferably not one whose family helped destroy mine.
Still, a thought I’ve been trying to ignore surfaces.
I’ve always believed my father was different from most men in his world, but how well did I really know him? I only saw the man who took me swimming and bought me ice cream during brief summer visits. He shielded me from his dark side, but I have no doubt it existed.
Pavel’s voice drops, becoming more serious. “I need you to understand something, Hope. I won’t hurt you. Neither will anyone else here. Whatever you think I’m capable of, harming you or your son isn’t on the list.”
“Sure,” I say, giving him a non-committal response before turning to stare out the window. I believe him, but not because he has feelings for me, but because I serve a purpose. I just haven’t figured out what that purpose is yet.
The view out the window steals my attention. Through the trees, a house comes into view. It’s large and impressive, with elaborate stonework, steep gabled roofs, and arched windows. It reminds me more of an old French manor than a mob boss’s fortress.
Pavel parks, and we step out of the car. The SUV that’s been trailing us pulls up behind our vehicle. I circle to the back and open the passenger door. Kin’s head is tipped to the side, cheeks flushed from sleep, his stuffed dinosaur smushed under one arm. I brush my fingers through his hair and unbuckle him carefully.
He’s heavier with every day that passes, and my arms strain under the weight as I pull him into me. His legs dangle, socked feet swinging against my thighs.
Pavel turns to one of his security men, speaking in Russian. The guard nods and signals to another, who begins retrieving our bags from the trunk. I stand awkwardly to the side, unsure where to go or what to do.
Kin stirs against my chest. “Mama?” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.
“We’re here, baby,” I whisper, pressing my lips to his forehead.
No matter what, I promised myself I’d hide my discomfort from Kin. He’s waking up in a strange place in a strange country. The least I can do is pretend everything’s fine.
He blinks slowly, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. I brace for tears or questions I won’t know how to answer.
Instead, Kin lifts his head from my shoulder, his gaze widening in wonder as he spots the sprawling house.
