Wife For Him (Volkov Crime Family 3)

“He knew you came tonight?”

“Not specifics, but he’ll guess who did it when he hears.”

I chewed my lip. “Is that safe? He might tell Vincent.”

“I’m sure he will. Hedeon will do anything to keep this city from erupting into chaos.”

I sucked in a breath and leaned back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. That was going to make things difficult. Not that Vincent wouldn’t already figure out the truth on his own—but if Hedeon turned on us, then there’d be nobody supporting us in the city at all.

“What’s the other option?”

He let out a harsh laugh. “We convince Hedeon to step in.”

I sighed and shut my eyes. “You think that’s unlikely.”

“Very unlikely.”

“Then we have no other choice. We have to run.”

He didn’t speak. I turned toward him, staring at his muscular chest, at the way it rose and fell with each breath. He didn’t move as he watched the far wall, and I took in the room for the first time—it was barren, barely decorated at all, and lights from outside drifted in through the windows. I heard the frat boys outside distantly, laughing, drinking, being young.

I never had that. College was never in the cards for me, even if I was inclined toward school. My father would’ve never let it happen—he would’ve told me it was a waste of time and money, and that I was more use to him marrying or working. I envied those young men and their freedom, their educations, their few years of having whatever they wanted, having the space to figure out who they wanted to be.

I never had that space. I had to fight for every inch of freedom, and at every turn it seemed as though someone was there, ready to rip it away.

It always felt as though I’d end up like Alex—bleeding on the street, riddled with holes.

“There’s a chance he’ll help,” Reid said, his voice low. “But the question is, do we want to take that risk?”

“I don’t care about Philadelphia,” I said. “It never did anything for me.”

He let out a laugh. “You met me here.”

“And that’s fine if it’s the last thing I do in this fucked-up place.”

He grunted at that and sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “I owe it to Enrico and Aldrik to try to make amends with Hedeon at the very least. They shouldn’t have to run away because of the decisions I made.”

I wanted to argue with him, to tell him that they made their own choices, and they knew what it would mean to help—but I kept silent, because it would only make him angry, and I knew he was right. He owed those two a lot, and if he could help them out a little bit in this fucked-up time, then he should try.

I reached up and touched his cheek. “You’re not such a bad guy, you know that?”

He gave me a sideways glance. “I wonder about that sometimes.”

“You’re not a monster. Even if you want to be one.”

He grunted and said nothing, only wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tight. We stayed like that for a while, breathing together, enjoying the simple comfort of having a beautiful naked body close against our own, but I knew that wouldn’t last.

We had until the morning at least, and soon I decided that I’d make the best of it. I kissed him, straddled his hips, rode back along his shaft and felt him stiffen.

I took him over and over that night, wondering if there was any way we could fuck enough to keep the sun from rising.25ReidI found spare clothes in the closet as the sun peeked up over the buildings. Cora slept wrapped in the sheets—she’d only passed out an hour or so ago after letting me take her body again and again in a desperate frenzy. I watched her for a second then dressed and snuck out of the room, closing the door behind me.

The house smelled like beer and disinfectant, which shouldn’t have surprised me since I let that damn frat use the place. I found old, stale coffee in a cupboard and made a pot while I leaned up against the counter and stared at my phone, trying to decide what I was going to do.

When the coffee finished and I poured a mug, the phone buzzed on the granite countertop. I flinched with surprise, then cursed and picked it up. Hedeon’s name floated on the screen and I had the urge to turn him away.

Instead, I answered. “Morning.”

“Good morning.” He didn’t sound angry, which surprised me. “I was wondering if you’d be up.”

“Couldn’t get much sleep.”

“I’m sure.” I could hear him pacing along his kitchen, the tell-tale creaking of floorboards and his breath in the receiver. “I think we need to talk.”

“What makes you think that?”