Page 153 of For a Price

He’s right that we’ve reached an ending, but that ending is also our new beginning.

CHAPTER 46

Katerina

In the days that follow,we recover from the bratva war. Both physically and mentally. As the dust settles, it takes me time to process what we’ve been through, and what that possibly means for the future.

Rosita’s gone and she’s never coming back. But I will never forget her. I’ll make it my life’s mission to take care of Lucero like I was never cared for when I became an orphan.

After the penthouse was burned down and weeks of living in abandoned factory buildings, we have no real home. The bratva itself is in a state of disarray as Roman takes charge and rebuilds the family from the ground up.

We move out of the base of operations where we’ve been hiding out from the pakhan and his forces and into an apartment in the city. A setting that will help me acclimate to my new lifestyle and role in Roman’s life.

I’m free to come and go as I please, no longer a captive of the bratva in any capacity.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t have my own security detail.

“It’s necessary, kitty cat,” Roman insists before dropping a peck on my lips. “You are my woman. That makes you a target of any potential enemies.”

It’s a little weird having a muscly Russian guy acting as my shadow wherever I go, whether that’s a quick trip to the grocery store or a coffee run, but Roman’s right that it’s a necessary evil in his world.

It’s a small price to pay in order to be a part of it.

There are other costs too—some of the consequences of what happened the night we fought the pakhan and his forces.

Initially, I hope Roman’s forgotten. He has so much on his plate that he won’t remember how I snuck out of the base of operations and made it to the Winchester Hotel so I could act out my own revenge plot.

You’d think I’d know better by now.

A few nights into our new life at our apartment, Roman comes home for dinner. I greet him by the door, rising up on my tiptoes to greet him with a kiss. I tell him about the lasagna I’ve cooked for dinner, and how it’s onlymarginallyburnt.

“We can scrape off those pieces,” I say, beaming proudly. “It’s still edible… mostly.”

He stares at me half amused. “But what if I’m hungry for something else?”

“What else is new?” I laugh. “Zver, my pussy needs a break sometimes!”

I’ve barely gotten the words out when he’s hoisted me off my feet and slung me over his broad, muscled shoulder.

“We’ll see if you’ll be saying that once my face is buried in that juicy pussy.”

Fuck! He’s got me there.

He knows all about how his tongue is my weakness. No one eats pussy like Roman. He treats it as a delicacy, like some sort of special fine dining event.

My protests are half-hearted as he carries me into our bedroom and flings me to the bed in true manhandling fashion. I land aware it’s not even worth pretending anymore. As soon as I’m propping myself up on the bed and his fiery gaze meets mine, a tremor of lust rocks through me.

I bite down on my bottom lip. “I guess an appetizer before dinner can’t hurt.”

“This is more than an appetizer, kitty cat. This is long overdue.”

I sit up the rest of the way, my stomach fluttering from instant nerves. Roman’s strode past the king-sized bed toward the closet.

Oh no…

“On second thought,” I murmur, “maybe we should just do dinner.”

“You didn’t think I forgot, did you?” he asks, remerging with a small rectangular box I’ve seen many times before. He stops in front of me on the bed and tells me to open it. “Go ahead, devochka.”

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