Page 37 of Married to the Don (Kornilov Bratva Duet 1)

Viktor

Molly’s fire runs deep. I experienced it in her fight, but also when we were in bed together. She doesn’t yield control easily. She gives as well as she gets, and the admiration I feel towards her is dangerous.

It’s why I do my best to stay away.

I planned to stay around the apartment for the first few days, to be present in case Molly tried to make an escape or in case she had any questions, but now I regret that decision.

The clothes the guard bought for her are killer. He told me he deferred to the knowledge of the saleswoman to pick things out, and she clearly had a preference for cleavage and lace. Everything is low-cut and tight and makes me wish my hands were on her hips rather than clenched into fists at my sides.

Theo is happy to play with his new toys, and Molly quits her job, so she’s able to play with him. She resisted at first, but the hourly pay was so low it was criminal, and it didn’t take much to convince her to quit and hang out with Theo. It’s the most time the two of them have spent together in a long while. I know because Theo keeps being surprised Molly isn’t leaving.

I hover on the periphery, trying to stay away.

Molly seems fine with the arrangement and doesn’t make any attempt to talk to me other than polite conversation at the few meals we share together. Otherwise, I stay in my office and focus on work.

Theo came into my office on the first full day they were at the house, and Molly, following the order I gave her the night before, didn’t follow him in. She told him she’d be in her room when he was done, but he was content to sit on the floor and color on printer paper with my blue and black pens. It has become a routine, and he has come to see me every afternoon all week.

When it’s time for me to visit Fedor at the prison, I’m almost sad that I won’t get my usual hour to talk with Theo. That probably means it’s high time I got out of the house, though.

“Where is your head?”

I look up. Fedor is frowning at me. His cheeks look hollower than they did a week ago, and he has a swollen black eye and a fat lip. I try to ask him who hit him, but he refuses to say. Then I ask him if he is eating, and he dismisses that question too. Both mysteries can probably be solved by the same answer: he has found a dealer on the inside and is swapping out his meals for pills. He failed to pay and got his ass beat, which would also explain the tremor in his hands. Withdrawal.

“Right here,” I say.

He snorts. “Then answer my question.”

I try to replay the last few minutes of conversation but come up blank. I look to Kent for help, but he just shuffles through the papers in front of him and ignores us both.

“That’s what I thought,” Fedor says, shaking his head. He pounds his flat palm on the table. “Did you take care of my problem?”

“Which problem is that?” I ask, though we both know what he’s talking about.

He lowers his chin and looks up at me from beneath his dark brows. The swollen eye is little more than a slit. “The girl.”

The girl. Molly.

He doesn’t know about the boy, who at this moment is probably watching a cartoon on the flat screen in the living room and eating animal crackers out of a plastic cup. Fedor doesn’t know about him at all.

“I took care of it.” My mind makes the joke that I took care of her all night long, but I can’t say that. Because Fedor can’t know that Molly is back at my place, sitting next to Theo and flipping through the interior design books I had delivered to the house for her.

I sent one of my guys to clear out her locker at the gym and bought some newer books for her, too. She didn’t say anything when she came to the living room and saw them sitting on the coffee table, but she has spent every afternoon poring over the pages, studying each picture in detail.

Fedor sits back in his chair and lets out a sigh of relief, and I’ve never been so close to hitting my baby brother. I’ve never wanted to give him a matching black eye more in my life.

He is sighing about what he believes is the murder of an innocent woman. A woman he attacked, impregnated, and left to fend for herself.

Our lifestyle is a dark one. There are plenty of moral gray areas and unconscionable things we’ve each done, but hurting a girl like Molly and leaving her to live on the streets is unforgivable.

I bite my tongue and grip my knee under the table, my fingernails digging into my jeans.

“Good because I’ve got to get the fuck out of here,” Fedor says, gesturing to his face. “People in here aren’t so nice.”

“Neither are people out here,” I say before I can stop myself. No one knows that better than Molly.

“Yeah, but out there, I’m one of the not-so-nice people. That makes it a lot more fun.” Fedor is joking, but I can barely muster a smile.

On the way home, I keep reflecting on the conversation. Fedor is locked up and can’t hurt Molly and Theo, but that doesn’t make them safe. Especially now that they’re connected to me. As long as they stay in the apartment, they’re protected, but out on the streets there are people like the clerk she told me about at the gym, Greg from the motel, and Fedor. Plus anyone who would seek to hurt me. My enemies might get the idea that Molly and Theo are important to me, which could put them in harm’s way.

---