Midnight Lies (Tasarov Bratva 2)

“It wouldn’t kill you. It would cripple you,” I explain. “But you’d still feel pain. You’d be alive for every excruciating second, but you wouldn’t be able to fight. Wouldn’t be able to run away.”

I can feel her pulse quickening against my palm.

“A good torturer has endless tools and methods at their disposal,” I explain. “They would have fun with you. Even when you did crack—and you would, soon enough—they’d probably keep you around for fun. If they have any taste, that is.”

Emery shoves my hand away. “I get it, Adrik.”

“Do you?” I ask, peering down at her from above. “Do you really? Because I need you to understand why I don’t give in to your every whim. Why I don’t come home and gab about my day like the ‘normal’ people you’re so fixated on.”

“I’m not fixated on—”

“I’m not normal,” I growl. “This life isn’t normal. And everything I do is to make sure you are safe.”

“I know.” She reaches up and grabs my face, lowering my face until we’re looking into each other’s eyes. “You’ll take care of me.”

I stare at her, and she raises her brows in an Are you happy now? kind of look.

Finally, I nod. “Good girl.” Only then do I let her go.

Emery flops back on the bed and sighs. “Why is everything always so hard?”

“That’s life, as far as I’m aware. Endlessly cruel.”

She lifts herself up on her elbows. Her tits really do look incredible. Pregnancy hormones are doing wonderful things for her body.

“What happened between the two of you yesterday?” she asks. “You and Yasha, I mean.”

“You were there. He tried to frame me for murder.”

She shakes her head. “No. After. You said you saw him at…. The eagle’s nest? Was that it?”

I nod.

“What happened at the eagle’s nest?” she asks.

“He was there, like I thought. But he took off.”

“On foot?”

“I would have chased him if he was on foot,” I snap. “He had a car. And a gun. He saw me coming from the tower.”

I decidedly don’t mention that I could have shot my brother in the head. I could have ended this entire thing by executing him through that car window, and I tried to shoot out his tires instead. Fucking fool.

Emery sits up and slides to the end of the bed. Her legs part, and I step into them, letting her drag her hands down my stomach. She’s ignoring my erection the same way I’m ignoring her pointed nipples—with a great deal of self-restraint. It won’t last much longer.

“You’ll get him next time,” she says. Then she laughs. “I sound like a mom giving a pep talk. But I’m serious… I know I said you aren’t a superhero—and you aren’t,” she warns with a pointed finger and narrowed eyes. “You shouldn’t throw yourself into life-and-death situations quite so willingly. But you are the good guy in this scenario. And in my world, the good guys always come out on top.”

“Does your world have unicorns and waterfalls made of chocolate, too?”

Emery slaps my chest. “You’re an asshole.”

“A hungry one. What’s for breakfast?”

“I’ve really been craving waffles.”

I nod and stroke her bottom lip with my thumb. “Ask and you shall receive.”

Grinning, she stands to whisk out of the room, but then she pauses halfway to the door. “Wait. What am I supposed to do for clothes?” she asks. “Isabella had a suitcase, but all I had are the clothes that got ruined yesterday and the pajamas that got ruined last night.”

I eye her naked body. “I don’t see the issue.”

She narrows her eyes. “You really aren’t funny.”

“I had the owner arrange for a delivery,” I say, pointing to the closet. “Everything should be in your size.”

She peeks into the closet and then glances back at me, a wide smile on her face. “You really are something, Adrik Tasarov.”

I smirk at her. “Get dressed. I’ll start breakfast.” I slap her on the ass to send her off. She squeals and scurries into the closet. Chuckling, I go downstairs.

Thankfully, Antonio must have had groceries delivered just before I took over control of his penthouse. The man acted like it was a real inconvenience when I asked him if we could squat here, but I know for a fact he has two houses. His wife and son live in one. This one is only for whichever mistress he happens to be fucking at the time.

Strange how he got so touchy when I revealed that I was aware of that piece of information. Useful for me, though.

I pop Antonio’s whore’s waffles into the toaster and pour out two glasses of orange juice. When they’re done, I plate it all and bring it back upstairs.

I hear Emery still rustling around in the closet. “Are you still getting dressed?” I ask.

She steps out of the closet, hands on her hips. “ I’m just exploring. Where are these clothes from? They’re amazing.”

Emery is wearing a pair of high-waisted jeans that fit her like a damn glove. They mold perfectly to the curves of her legs and make her ass look incredible. The top she has on is just a white cropped t-shirt, but the material is thin and delicate. It drapes low over her chest, revealing enough cleavage to bring my dick back to life.

I bite back my growl of desire and frown instead. “You like those?” I ask in disbelief.

Her face falls as looks down at herself self-consciously. “Um… Yeah. I— Yeah, I thought so. It’s just jeans and a shirt, so I…”

I set her plate down on the dresser and move closer. “No, no, this won’t do at all. It’s not right.”

“What isn’t right?” She sounds almost scared. Poor little kiska. So fragile. So perfect for me.

“This shirt, it’s…” I pinch the bottom of the shirt between my fingers and yank it up over her head. “Unsuitable.”

She has on a white lace bra underneath. I stroke my fingers over the delicate material, cupping her in my palm.

Emery smiles and shakes her head. She gets it now, the game we’re playing. “Is that right?”

“Absolutely,” I nod, dragging my hands down to the jeans settled at her waist. “And these jeans aren’t right at all, either. You should take them off. I’ll get them tailored.”

“Oh, is your tailor here?” Emery asks, playfully looking around. “I figured she would have quit working with you after we fucked all over a pile of her wedding dresses.”

“Keep talking dirty like that and I’ll have to put something in your mouth to shut you up, kiska,” I growl teasingly.

I ease Emery back to the bed and set her on the edge. She rolls her eyes, but can’t stop smiling. She doesn’t fight when I unbutton her jeans and start peeling them down her legs.

“Am I ever going to get to eat?”

“After,” I say.

“You keep saying that. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

I make quick work of her jeans and smooth my hands up her thighs, parting them so I can settle between them. Once again, I press my lips to her warm inner thighs, easing closer and closer to her wet pussy.

She curls her hands in my hair, her breathing growing heavy as I move closer. She wants this as much as I do.

I push aside her panties. She’s right there for the tasting, ripe and glistening and so fucking sweet. I touch the tip of my tongue to her slit and then—

My phone rings.

Emery chokes out a laugh and falls back on the bed. “You’re kidding. Again?”

I answer it. “What the fuck is it now, Stefan? If it isn’t vital information I need to know right this second, then hang up. Because I was in the middle of something.”

“Adrik.”

Stefan’s voice is even, quiet. There’s no sign of amusement. His usual playfulness is gone.

Fuck. “What is it?”

There’s a beat before Stefan clears his throat and answers, “It’s your dad.”