Page 37 of Savage Boss

Jane didn’t usually like playing games, not even in the bedroom, which was fine since Vlad tended to want to get in his wife as quick as humanly possible. Games slowed down his ultimate goal of fucking her delicious body until they both came. However, the last time Jane had pulled out the handcuffs, they’d both had a very good time. He was willing to experiment if she was.

“What kind of game are you thinking?” he demanded.

She walked her fingers up his shirt, stopping on the top button and toying with it.

“Well, I thought you could be the big bad Boss who makes everyone tremble in their shoes.”

“And who would you be?”

She grinned. “I’m the private investigator you found rifling through your bedroom closet.”

All the blood rushed to his cock.

“What should I do with a woman I find alone in my bedroom where she’s not supposed to be?” Vlad pulled her away from the door and swung her around toward the bed.

Jane held the handcuffs up and raised an eyebrow. “You’ll think of something, you’re pretty imaginative.”

“Da,” Vlad agreed with a grin. “When it comes to you, I am extremely imaginative.”

Chapter Nineteen

“You ready for this, brother?” Boris asked Vlad as they walked into the nondescript stone building that housed the Bratva headquarters. The place where the most powerful men in Russia met to discuss their families, organizations, politics, and businesses.

“I was born ready.”

“Da, you were,” Boris agreed.

Vlad’s lack of placement at the table had long been a contentious topic for Boris. Though he’d been living in exile in America, Boris held a place at the table. He’d been born to it. His blood brother had occupied the seat until Boris travelled to Russia to lay claim to his birthright. It was Boris’ opinion that the seats should be held by powerful men, headed by powerful families, which to his mind meant Vlad should have had a place long ago.

“We’re here now, together.” Vlad clapped his best friend and business partner on the back. “As two of the youngest members, we will be able to shape the future of this council.”

“They’re ready for you.”

Vlad and Boris turned to the person who had spoken, a young secretary who belonged to Romanoff. The young slender man was standing next to an open door. Vlad straightened his tie, then tapped his fingers to his chest, just over his heart. Tattooed on his index finger was Joseph’s name, written in Russian, Amish and English. On the middle finger was Jane’s name, a private joke. A homage to the amount of times she’d flipped him the bird.

Vlad walked ahead of Boris, entering the heavy room containing the most important men in Russia. The men who dictated governments. Vlad would represent the interests of the Bratva in North America, taking the mantle of power and building on an already impressive empire. A task he was more than ready for.

* * *

“I hate cabbage,” Jane announced as Vlad opened his car door and climbed out to stand next to Jane. She’d been visiting the Kremlin while he was in his confirmation meeting with the Bratva.

“It took you travelling to Russia to realize this?” Vlad asked, bending to kiss her.

She cocked her head to the side. “Maybe it’s just Russian cabbage I hate. You know they put it in my soup? Who knew borscht was another word for cabbage?” She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Vlad chuckled and pulled her toward the car where Leo was holding the door open. “It’s not, cabbage is an ingredient in borscht.”

She shook her head. “Well, I paid way too many rubles for cabbage soup that smelled like your socks when you leave them in your running shoes after a workout.” She looked around as if only now realizing she was inside a vehicle. “Where are you taking me? I wasn’t done at the Kremlin.”

“We’ll come back,” Vlad assured her. “I want to visit my father’s grave.”

“Oh.” She fell silent, studying him.

Vlad could see the questions piling up in her head, but Jane was one to hit her problems head on. She didn’t know how to handle ‘delicate’ situations and Vlad supposed she’d rather stop speaking than risk saying the wrong thing when it came to Vlad’s family. He wanted to tell her she didn’t need to worry. Any feelings he might have had for his father, love, hatred, anger, had died many years ago.

Vlad’s gaze sharpened as the car turned into the Christian Orthodox cemetery near his old family home. Vlad told the driver to stop. Opening his door, Vlad held his hand out to Jane. She slid to the edge of the seat and looked up at him but paused.

“You don’t want to have a minute to yourself?” her voice was concerned.

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