Page 81 of Sinful Games

Maybe divine intervention or, at the very least, a stash of emergency Maltesers, would help.

Chapter

Twenty-Five

“What's the good of living if you don't try a few things?”

?Charles M. Schulz

Alexsei

“So, how’s married life treating you? Mankiev’s daughter hasn’t tried to kill you yet?”

I grumbled a curse and hefted the boxes of cocaine into the truck. This shit was heavy as hell. Mankiev had really screwed me over—first with his crap that Igor ordered us to clear out of the city, and now with his damn gorgeous daughter, who had a way of sticking in my head.

I wiped the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand and tossed the last box into the truck before slamming the doors shut and giving them a solid tap to signalLiev to take off. Cracking my neck from side to side, I groaned, feeling the faint throb in my back.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Shut up, Mikhail.”

He chuckled, taking a drag from his cigarette and offering me one. “Told you not to marry her.”

Sitting down on the steps of the grand manor’s entrance, I took the cigarette gratefully, glad for the distraction. Volk joined me, and we both sank into a cloud of smoke and silence. I let the smoke settle my nerves as it mingled with the biting winter air.

Fucking winter. Fucking snow.

I’d left Caia at home after the concierge dropped off my mail. She bolted for the heels, probably thinking I had a guest, so I decided to let her explore our new home without my constant scrutiny. I couldn’t stop staring at her, and the thrill of having her as my wife was both exhilarating and maddening.

“She’s terrified. Not of me, but of someone else,” I muttered, bringing the cigarette back to my lips. “I think Mankiev really sold her, just like I fucking predicted.”

The way she flinched at my touch, her constant avoidance of anything physical, that haunted look when I dug into her past—it was clear she’d been hurt deeply. It was a pain I recognized all too well from my mama’s eyes.

Calling her a whore was a low blow. I was a damn fool for using insults just to get a reaction. I needed to stop thinking with my dick when it came to her.

“She probably got sold to one of his shithead friends,” Volk shrugged, accustomed to this kind of crazy talk. “Old man’s probably dead by now or living it up somewhere.”

My chest burned. “If he’s still alive, I’ll fucking kill him.”

The bastard just signed his own death warrant.

“Not too late to annul the marriage,” Volk said casually.

I shot him a dark look.

“What? Just saying!” he shrugged, reaching for his phone as it rang. “Mankiev’s daughter isn’t worth the hassle.”

I stayed silent, pulling out my own phone and texting Caia that I’d be home soon.

“She is, though.”

She really was. There was something about Caia that went beyond the surface, something deeper and hidden. Just like I promised her this morning, I needed to make our marriage. And tonight… tonight was the night.

Tonight, I would have her in my bed, and I had a feeling it would change everything.

Slipping back inside, I made my way quietly to the dining room, where Igor was having lunch with Slavoy Sadiek, the chief of Moscow’s police department and a notorious loser at poker. Just a few weeks ago, I’d cleaned him out in under five minutes, pocketing a cool 50K. Safe to say, he’s been simmering with resentment ever since.

Igor had been working with Sadiek for years, knowing that the best way to navigate the law was to cozy up to corrupt officials. And Sadiek was the filthiest of the lot.

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