Page 87 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

He’s halfway to storming out of the room—to call Gennady or his lieutenants or something, I’m sure—when he pauses and whirls back around to face me.

“Thank you, Arya,” he says awkwardly.

I can’t help laughing. “You’re not very good at that,” I tease.

“At what?”

“Being grateful.”

He pauses for a moment. Then, without changing his expression, he takes one huge step to close the distance between us. He bends down, palms the back of my head in one huge hand, and presses me with a fierce kiss.

His tongue parts my lips. Greedy. Hot. Aggressive.

And just when I reach up to touch his hair, he pulls away.

“I’m better with my hands than my words,” he murmurs.

I laugh again, although I’m suddenly several degrees hotter and my thighs are tingling. “I’ll say so.”

“But I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I whisper.

Then he’s gone, whisking out of the room and leaving me with his touch on my skin and words I’ve never heard from him before surging through my heart.

Another man will die soon. I’ll be a part of it, just like I was a part of Jorik’s death, and Zotov’s, and Ennio’s, and Giorgio’s.

And my son is still gone. Snatched away yet again by people who want to hurt me.

All that shit is horrible and I’ll spend the rest of my life thinking about it.

But right here? Right now?

Things feel like they’re almost okay.

30

Dima

It takes Gennady half an hour to confirm Richard Solomon’s mistress still lives in the Kingsroot Apartments.

“Do you have the unit number?” I ask.

He nods. “Eduard had a few guys rough up the building’s manager. He gave it up real quick. No one saw Richard there, though. No idea when he’ll be by.”

“I’m not in the mood for a long stakeout. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I get my Bratva back.”

Gennady claps me on the back. “Then I’ll leave you to it. Good luck.”

Arya offered to come with me, too—to keep me company—but I don’t want her anywhere near this scene. If anything goes wrong, I don’t want to have to worry about her being caught in the crosshairs.

This job is for me and me alone.

For the first time in almost an hour, I see movement further up the street. A black car parks at the end of the street and a figure climbs out. I’m too far away to tell if it’s a man or a woman, but the person walks with their head down and a hood up.

After sitting for so long, it seems worth checking out. But I don’t want to spook whoever it is, so I wait until they pass by where I’m parked on the opposite side of the street before I climb out and move towards the building.

The person stops and buzzes in. I try to run after him and catch the door before it locks, but I miss.

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