Page 67 of Owned By The Bratva King

I laugh, then remember. "Oh, the buns!" I wriggle from his grasp and jump down from the counter, sending a plume of flour into the air. "They'll be about done."

"And how are yours?" Roman taps my ass lightly as I bend over to open the oven. "Looking kinda floury to me. And red. I can see every spot where my hand landed."

I pull on an oven mitt and take out the dish, setting it on a trivet. "You're a nasty man, Roman Kazanov."

He shrugs. "You knew this. And I did warn you—I like to leave my mark."

Roman's phone trills, and he presses my door buzzer, speaking into the intercom. "Great. Come on in," he turns to me. That's your breakfast. You better cover up."

A minute later, hidden under my robe, I return to the kitchen to find him unlocking my front door. He is wearing only my Cath Kidston apron.

As he opens the door, I see a woman about my age holding coffee and a brown paper bag. She stares for a long moment before clearing her throat.

"Um, UberEats?" she says.

"Thank you. Hold on." He wheels around to the coathooks and rummages through his jacket pocket, and the girl gazes in disbelief at his inked back and bare ass.

"Here you go," he says, handing her a hundred. She hands him the food, and he takes it into the kitchen, leaving me with nothing to do but stand awkwardly.

She glances from Roman to me, a shit-eating grin breaking out over her face as she backs into the corridor.

"Honey." She exhales through pursed lips. "Damn, have you got it made or what?"

50

One week later…

Roman

These few days have been bliss. I’ve neglected my duties, but luckily, Leon and Viktor have been taking up the slack, as well as attending to a special project I set them on.

Quinn and I barely left her place. Hell, we only got out of bed when we had to. She showed me her dildo, purchased with my money and still in its box, and I instructed her to have a little fun with it while I was out. That made for a memorable bit of footage.

As always, business will insist on dragging me back into the fray. There’s still a lot to do—the komissiya want me to assist in the allocation of Vercotti’s assets—but I’m too fucking happy to care.

Bernard Familio despatched Silvio Vercotti on a specially chartered flight to Sicily. He had me laughing when he told me about it.

By all accounts, Silvio sobbed when he heard the lucid descriptions of what Sicilian mob hospitality would mean for him. Whatever the Familios do, it won’t be quick, and his funeral would require a closed casket. Just as well he won’t get a funeral, not when the family’s pigs are always hungry.

I prefer Quinn’s apartment to the sterile environment of my mansion. The house reflects the person I was before her, where her place feels like a home. She’s in the shower now, and I’m sitting on her couch, ready to go.

I have a surprise for my wife. She thinks I’ve been busy with work this week, but that’s not all I’ve been up to. My current account took a smash, but it will be worth it.

I’m flicking through Quinn’s dirty stories when Leon calls and ruins the mood. Nothing like seeing his name to pour cold water on my passion, but it’s better than the other way around.

“Hi, boss,” Leon says too loudly. “Gotta check; you sure you don’t want me to locate Quinn’s dickhead uncle? I mean, I know you said you’d leave him alone, but wouldn’t it be best to keep tabs on the cunt?”

As I consider this, I lean back on the pillow, drumming my fingers on my chest. Julian’s absence should be a relief but leaves an unsettling void.

Quinn might always look over her shoulder if I don’t find him, wondering if he’ll reappear one day. But if I do locate the piece of shit, will I be able to resist murdering him?

I promised I wouldn’t, but maybe it’ll be easier to keep that promise if I don’t have him in my sights.

“Let’s give it a rest for now. If he resurfaces, we’ll handle it then. Quinn deserves some peace.”

“And what about Ricky Lubomski?” Leon asks. “He said he wanted protection but doesn’t need it, not with Vercotti out of the picture. He’s useless to us now, and I hate him.”

A slow smile spreads across my lips. My best friend wants nothing more than to fuck up Ricky, and it’s kinda fun to keep denying him.

---