Page 22 of Married to the Don (Kornilov Bratva Duet 1)

She has thin strips of black fabric barely covering her breasts. They join together over her midsection and then slip between her legs. Her body is brown and curvy and beautiful and any other day of the year I’d be thrilled to find someone like her in my bed.

Usually, I like a release after making deals. Even when things go perfectly, there is a lot of adrenaline involved in negotiating. Or some other chemical. I’m not sure; I’m not exactly a scientist. Whatever it is, it builds up inside of me, and I like having a beautiful woman nearby to channel it into.

But today, the sight of her feels like a burden.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she says, standing up and moving towards me, one foot in front of the other.

“Sorry about that, but I’m actually not—”

She slides her body across mine like a cat marking her territory. I know she’s gorgeous and that I should be almost popping out of my pants with excitement, but I’m not. I step away from her and open the door slightly. She looks out the door as though expecting to see someone else waiting to come in.

“Don’t you want…?” she asks, gesturing to herself.

I shake my head. “Not tonight.”

Immediately, her shoulders slouch and the seductive tone in her voice goes flat. “They told me you’d pay me.”

I unfold my wallet and slip a few bills into her hands. She’s about to argue, but then she realizes the denomination and smiles. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

She throws on a coat and leaves without argument.

Left alone in the empty room, there is nowhere for my restless energy to go, so I have no choice but to think about my brother. And given the choice between fucking a beautiful woman and thinking about my fuck-up of a brother, only a madman would send the woman away. Apparently, I’m a madman.

I wash my face with cold water and wonder if Molly is finding the room comfortable. I wonder if Theo is sleeping okay.

I wonder if Fedor knows about Theo.

I don’t see how he could. If he did, he would have blurted the information out ages ago, probably by accident. Plus, family is everything to us. Our dad may not have been like the warm and fuzzy dads on television, but he taught us the importance of family and loyalty. It’s why I’ve spent so many years bending over backwards for Fedor. And that’s why I know he would do anything to protect his own flesh and blood.

Right?

I run my hands down my face and sit on the edge of the bed. I don’t know anymore. I wouldn’t have assumed Fedor would drug and hurt a woman, so maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do. Maybe I still see him too much as a kid rather than the man he has become. I’d hope the two wouldn’t be a far cry from one another, but since when does hope equate with reality?

Sleep seems impossible. I lie back with my eyes closed for minutes that seem to stretch on and on, but I never get drowsy. I don’t even slip into the place between consciousness and dreaming where your thoughts turn liquid and flow from one to the next without effort. I am fully awake, aware of every second, and desperate to take my mind off Fedor and Molly and Theo for even a second.

I roll out of bed and slip into my shoes. I could call down to the front desk for a drink to be sent up. Though the Twin Chandeliers really doesn’t have room service, it has always been available to me. But I’d rather get it myself. There is a bar next door that my men are known to frequent. Maybe a haze of alcohol would help me forget about my problems for a minute.

The elevator is slower than the stairs, but just because I’m not sleeping doesn’t mean I’m not tired. It has been a long day, and I don’t want to walk. So, I press the button and wait for the rattling elevator to arrive and open.

The chances of me getting trapped inside it seem marginally greater than me making it all the way to the first floor unscathed, but I take the risk.

I pass the third floor without issue, but then the lift shakes to a stop on the second floor. I groan and reach to push the emergency button when suddenly, the doors open. For a second, I think there is no one standing there. But then, I see the small figure standing barefoot in front of the doors.

“Theo?”

His hair is mussed from sleep, his cheek creased from the pillowcase, but when he sees me, he grins and jumps into the elevator.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” I respond, looking around for Molly or anyone with any knowledge of what to do with a rogue four-year-old. “Where’s your mom?”

“Sleeping.” He reaches up and pushes all the buttons on the elevator and the doors close.

“Does she know you aren’t in the room?” It’s a stupid question. I don’t know Molly well, but I saw enough of her parenting style earlier to know there is no way she would let her four-year-old traipse around the motel. Especially with men like Greg lurking around.

Theo shrugs, as though this point hardly matters, and pulls faces at his reflection in the chrome button panel.

For someone living on the street, I’d expect Theo to be nervous around strangers. The fact that he’s perfectly comfortable in his environment means that Molly has done a better job than most at protecting him from the realities of the world around him. In this case, that is both a blessing and a curse.

---