Page 1 of Seduction (Wicked Vows)

CHAPTER ONE

Nikko

My footsteps pound on the pavement like the relentless beating of a drum. My lungs feel like they’re going to burst, and my legs ache. I barely notice the rush of cherry blossoms as I pass or the pedestrians by the park; I’m so blinded by the sweat in my eyes. I push myself harder, faster, longer. It’s a mind game, a mind fuck.

Everything is.

I turn the left corner between Maple and Tower Streets and see my destination in front of me. I’m so far away it’s merely a blur, but as long as I can clearly see what’s in front of me, I can keep going.

My mentor Kolya told me that any training—all training—should be faced as if your life was on the line. Nothing’s in vain. You’re not running for the sake of a healthy heart or stronger lungs; you’re running from an enemy who’s going to slit your throat when he catches you.

So when I finally arrive at Mikhail and Aria’s house, I come to a stop, hands laced behind my head, heaving with the effort to catch my breath. I barely feel the brush of wind, a promise of stagnant summer heat later in the day.

I notice cars outside. Aleks and Harper are here, likely with their small crew of kids. Mom’s car is here, but no Polina. Viktor. Lev.

Frowning, I take out my phone and look down. I never miss a call or text, and today’s no different. Nothing missed. Then why’s everyone here?

I run my arm across my sweaty brow to clear my vision and trot up the stairs.

“There he is.” Mikhail jerks his head in greeting as he walks past the doorway, his one-year-old son Sasha in his arms. It’s fitting as pakhan to the Romanov family and older brother to all that Mikhail had the first child. It was time.

My brother Aleksandr holds his infant son beside his wife Harper, who’s holding the second twin. Both babies have their daddy’s bright blue eyes and mama’s honey-blonde hair. I turn to the sound of a child’s laugh and see my mom walking toward the dining room hand-in-hand with Harper’s toddler, Ivy.

Our family has grown in leaps and bounds as Mikhail and Aria’s baby just turned one, and Aleksandr and his wife just had twins. With Harper’s toddler completing the ensemble, my mother is in her absolute glory with four grandchildren. I haven’t seen her this happy in years.

It had to happen. If we’re going to establish ourselves as the premier Bratva group in the Cove, the area of New York nestled between Coney Island and Manhattan and the stomping grounds we own and operate, we needed to establish roots. Recruiting and expanding only go so far.

“Where’ve you been?” Mikhail snaps.

I gesture down to the sleeveless workout tee slicked with sweat and clinging to my body, my running shorts, and my running shoes. “Thought I’d try out my suit for the gala. Prepare for the paparazzi and all that.”

“He’s swimming in sweat from head to toe,” Harper responds. “I can smell him from here. Either he’s just come in from a run, or no one’s told us the zombie apocalypse is upon us.”

Aleksandr chuckles. shaking his head. “Nikko always goes for a run on Sunday at noon, Mikhail. You know that. Monday through Friday, you can set a clock by his five a.m. workouts, but he takes a break on Sunday and only goes for a run.”

“That’s why I pay you to keep track of this sh—stuff,” Mikhail says, scowling. The presence of children slows his roll. I’d bet he misses the days he could curse at whim.

I walk past both of them and head to the kitchen. “Did I miss something? Why’s everyone here?”

The two of them exchange a look as I grab a bottle of water. Mikhail nods. “Yeah. We have an urgent matter to discuss, but we wanted to wait and do it in person. Just us.”

In other words, they waited for my mother to come so she could watch the kids. None of the nannies work Sundays.

Interesting.

I toss the empty water bottle, reach into the fridge, and grab a protein shake, twist the cap off, and down half of it in a few gulps. “What is it?”

Mikhail frowns. “We’ve discovered a connection between the attempt at poisoning Harper and the attack on Lev.”

I stand up straighter, instantly alert. The type of retribution demanded by this situation will fall squarely on my shoulders.

When someone needs to die, I’m the one called.

Seven minutes later, I’m freshly showered and dressed, sitting on Mikhail’s balcony that overlooks the ocean. Aleks sits on my left, and my younger brother Viktor is to my right, nursing a cup of coffee. Mikhail’s on his way because he had to consult with his wife, Aria, our head hacker and cybersecurity pro.

“Aleks, what’s going on?” I ask.

Aleksandr, who works alongside Aria, broods, looking over the Manhattan skyline visible from Mikhail’s balcony.

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