Taken By Nikolai

“Ah, Lena, there you are,” my mother says as I step into the kitchen. It’s been almost a year since I last saw her, in that time she’s changed a lot. Her face is thinner, there’s no lines on her face—thanks to the face lift she had—and she’s lost weight. She looks good. Her blonde hair is pinned up into a perfect updo, not a single hair out of place.

She rushes over to me and pulls me into her arms. I suck in a sharp breath as she jostles me. “I missed you,” she cries.

I roll my eyes. God, she’s such an actress, I really think she’d do well in Hollywood, she’s that good.

A deep cough steals my attention. I glance to my left and my breath catches as I see the most gorgeous man that I have ever seen sitting at the kitchen table. His jaw is chiseled and covered by thick black stubble, his eyes the warmest brown I’ve ever seen, his black hair short, but enough to pull if you wanted.

His gaze moves up and down my body and those brown eyes of his heat, and when he reaches my face, he winks at me. Fucking winks. Power and authority radiate off him; he’s sex and sin mixed into one dangerous man. I swallow hard, praying that he’s not around much.

“Adele.” His deep voice makes my knees go weak. “Let your girl breathe,” he tells my mother. No—instructs her.

She pulls back and straightens her dress. “Of course, of course,” she says and steps back, but I see the anger swirling in her blue eyes. She’s beyond pissed that he’s telling her what to do. My mother hates being dictated to and rebels against it at every chance.

“Take a seat,” she tells me. “Nikolai has been dying to meet you.”

“Liar,” I whisper as I move away from her, trying my hardest to ignore the heated gaze from Nikolai.

“Are you hungry?” she asks me and I’m wondering who the hell this woman is and what has she done with my actual mother.

“No I’m good, thanks, but I wouldn’t turn down some coffee.”

I take a seat beside Nikolai and the man doesn’t hide the fact that he’s not taking his eyes off me. His gaze firmly on the swell of my breasts that are currently on display thanks to my bodice.

I spy the tattoos peeking out from under his shirt collar, not to mention the ones that are on his hands. I want nothing more than to see what others he has hidden beneath his clothing. Every member of the Bratva has tattoos—myself included—detailing our lives and what we have achieved. Nikolai, being the Pakhan, would have more than most. I’m intrigued to discover what secrets he holds.

“Of course,” she says as she moves to get me one. I don’t like this side of her, she’s after something, there’s no way she’d be this attentive if she wasn’t.

“Lena, right?” Nikolai says, his voice deep and smooth.

My nipples pebble beneath my top and my stomach flips. Why am I having this reaction to him? He’s not the first attractive man that I’ve ever seen.

I nod. “Yes, most people call me Lena, although it’s Yelena,” I tell him as my mother places a cup of coffee in front of me.

“Oh, Lena, I forgot to tell you,” she begins and I sit back in my chair, the coffee cup to my lips, and I raise a brow. “I’ll be gone for the next two weeks, you’ll be okay here without me, won’t you?”

I smile, I should have known that she wouldn’t have stayed around. “I have been for the past twenty-five years, I’m sure I’ll survive another two weeks.”

Her eyes narrow but she releases a high-pitched laugh. “Be good, you have my number. Call if you need me,” she tells me and turns on her thousand-dollar heels and walks out of the kitchen.

“You won’t call her, will you?” Nikolai questions once we hear the front door close.

I take a sip of coffee. “Nope,” I reply.

He makes a low growl in the back of his throat. “You don’t get along?”

I get to my feet, the cup in my hands. “You’re a powerful man, Nikolai, you’d have been better to do your research before you married a woman you barely know. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired.”

I get as far as the door before his hand clamps around my arm. The grip tight, and I can feel the anger coming off him in waves. He spins me around, so that we’re facing one another. I tilt my head to look up at him. The man is six-foot-nine, dwarfing my five-foot-ten height. “Answer the question, Yelena.” The way he growls my name has heat pooling between my legs.

“No, we don’t get along. My mother is selfish, as you’ve probably worked out seeing as you didn’t say goodbye to her. Adele Taylor cares about one person in her life, Nikolai, and that’s herself.”

“You think I’m with your mother?” He grunts as he pulls me closer. My body shivering as he runs his tattooed finger down my cheek. “No, malenkaya, I’m not.”

I stare up at him, confused by his words. He’s calling me little one. I’m nowhere near little. Although compared to him, I guess I am. I stare into his warm eyes and the air around us crackles. My lips feel dry and I swipe my tongue along them.

His eyes darken as he steps back and releases me, I feel the instant loss of him and I hate that I’m feeling this way. I don’t do attachments and I certainly don’t get involved with anyone in this life. The criminal life—been there, done that. But Nikolai, he’s dangerous. He’s my mother’s husband and I’m not going there. No matter how much I want him.

“Be good, malenkaya, I’ll be watching,” he warns me and goes back to sitting at the table.

I leave the kitchen, needing to breathe. This isn’t good. God, being around Nikolai isn’t right. I need to steer clear. He’s my mother’s husband after all.