Gilded Cage: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 1) by Nicole Fox (best books for 20 year olds .txt) 📕

there is, I can’t seem to pick it out.

“We did,” I nod. “It was nice getting to know Cillian. He’s an easy guy to like.”

“That I can’t argue with,” Artem nods. “He was always the charmer.”

“What does that make you?” I ask.

“The don,” he replies without hesitation.

I turn into him and catch the whites of his eyes in the darkness. They’re laser-focused and determined in a way that scares me a little.

I can feel it between us—all the things we’re not saying out loud. I wonder if he feels the same.

I think about straight out asking Artem about the dead man I’d seen in the ravine, like Cillian had suggested.

But I can’t quite form the question because I’m so terrified of the answer.

So when Artem leans in and kisses me hard, I let him. I reach down and cup his erection, pulling him closer to me and pretending as though I have nothing more to say.

Because I can feel it coming, even though I’m not quite ready to admit it.

I can feel our bubble shattering. Can sense the outside world at our doorstep, and I know choices need to be made soon.

I just don’t want to make them tonight.

So for now, for just these next handful of moments, I sink into Artem and lose myself in him.

For tonight, I pretend everything is going to be just fine.

71

Artem

We make love in the midnight moonlight filtering through the window. Soft and slow and quiet, so we don’t disturb Cillian on the couch.

Esme gives a desperate little cry as she comes.

When it’s my turn, I bury my mouth against her throat and erupt into her.

I would give anything for this woman. For the child growing inside of her.

They mean everything to me.

Once our breathing calms, Esme turns into me and takes a deep breath.

“That was amazing,” she says, tracing my tattoos the way she does every night before we fall asleep.

“At your service, ma’am.”

She giggles a little, her laugh softened with drowsiness. “I like Cillian,” she tells me.

“Yeah?” I reply. “Apparently, the feeling is mutual.”

“What did he tell you?” she asks. For a moment, she looks a little nervous.

“Nothing I didn’t already know.”

She smiles, but I can sense the stress underneath it. I’ve been sensing it for the last couple of days now.

Not for the first time, I wonder if there’s something she’s not telling me.

Just like there’s something I’m not telling her.

“What were you and Cillian talking about out there before you came to bed?” Esme asks.

“This and that,” I reply vaguely. “Mostly just… business.”

“Okay.”

Esme falls silent. I turn back into the conversation Cillian and I had just before I left him sprawled out on the sofa with his legs hanging off the end.

“She’s special, Artem.”

“I know,” I nod. “You guys had a good talk?”

“I think trust is difficult for her,” Cillian answers carefully. “But I think I made some headway. Pretty sure she likes me.”

“Cocky motherfucker.”

“Can’t really blame her,” he continues, with a shit-eating grin. “I am charming as fuck.”

“Maybe it’s time for you to hit the road, Jack.”

Cillian gives a self-suffering sigh. “You’re just lucky she saw you first,” he says confidently. “That’s the only reason she’s with you right now, instead of me.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“And obviously my cock is way bigger than yours.”

I laugh. “You know you’re the only one who can get away with saying that shit to me, right?”

Cillian gives me a little wink and his smile falls back into seriousness. “She really is great, Artem,” he says. “I think the two of you could be really happy together.”

Cillian catches the uncertainty in my eyes. He’s the only person I don’t hide it from.

“What’s wrong?” Cillian asks.

“Esme wants me to walk away,” I say.

“Walk away?” Cillian repeats.

“From the Bratva.”

“Ah.”

“You don’t seem surprised.”

Cillian shrugs. “I suspected.”

“What do you think?” I ask, because he seems unwilling to volunteer his opinion.

“If you’re asking me what you should do, you’re asking the wrong man,” he tells me, turning away.

“Because you’ll tell me to keep fighting?”

“No,” Cillian says. “Because I don’t know what it’s like to have a family to fight for.”

“Cillian…”

“Listen, Artem,” Cillian cuts me off. “This is your decision. And I’ll support you no matter what. Even if what you decide is to give up your claim to the Bratva.”

Hearing it from his lips feels strange. Like we’re talking about someone else’s life.

“My father will be rolling in his grave right now,” I mutter.

“Stanislav is dead,” Cillian retorts, though his tone is respectful. “He doesn’t give a shit what happens in this world anymore. Don’t let a ghost determine what’s right for you.”

I smile. “Fuck, you’re a lot wiser than you look.”

“At last,” Cillian replies. “Some fucking recognition.”

“It’s good to see you again, brother.”.

“Missed me, huh?”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t fucking ruin it.”

Cillian laughs. “Go on. Get to bed. Your woman is waiting for you.”

“We have a lot to discuss.”

“Tomorrow,” Cillian replies. “There’ll be time enough for that tomorrow.”

I nod and head for the bedroom, but I pause just before opening the door. “Cillian?”

“You want a goodnight kiss?”

Laughter bubbles to my lips, but I manage to keep my expression straight.

“If I do decide to leave the Bratva… what will you do?” I ask.

The question has been weighing on my mind for over a week now. I don’t miss the crestfallen expression on Cillian’s face, before he covers it up with a blithe smile.

“Tomorrow,” he says. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Artem?”

I blink and my eyes focus on Esme. She’s looking up at me with those gorgeous eyes. They look like molten gold under the moonlight.

“Where’d you go?” she asks gently.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about… everything.”

“You wanna talk about it?” she asks.

“Not tonight,” I say, mimicking Cillian’s sentiment.

She opens her mouth to say something but then she snaps it closed at the last moment and nods.

“Okay,” she whispers, but I can see her eyes are swimming with thoughts of her own, thoughts that she’s still keeping close to heart.

I press my lips against her forehead. She curls up in the