Gilded Tears: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 2) by Nicole Fox (e book free reading .txt) 📕

I take her hand and bring it to my lips. She smiles knowingly at me.

“Do you think my ego is so fragile that I’d begrudge another woman a compliment?” she asks with a wink.

“Um… there’s only one right answer here, right?”

She laughs and slaps my hand away just as Adrik enters the living room.

“Hey, boss,” he says as nods to me. “Ms. Kovalyov.”

Instantly, Esme’s lips screw up with distaste. “Seriously, Adrik,” she admonishes, “I’ve asked you to drop the ‘Miss’ a hundred times.”

He smiles. “Habit.”

“Well, drop it,” she snaps.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” she repeats in horror. “I changed my mind. I think I preferred ‘Miss.’”

Adrik chuckles under his breath, but his smile drops as he turns to me. “I got the location.”

“Perfect,” I say. “Let’s get going.”

“Wait,” Esme says. “Where exactly are you going?”

Adrik and I exchange a glance. “Kukolka…” I start to say.

But she raises a hand and cuts me off.

“Don’t you ‘kukolka’ me, pendejo!” she snaps with fire in her eyes. “I agreed to come back to L.A. I even agreed to accept the fact that you are don of the Bratva. But I need to be kept informed. Comprende?”

Part of me wants to chuckle. No one could ever accuse my wife of lacking passion or steel.

But I value my testicles being attached to my body, so I know better than to laugh in her face.

Besides, the real reason for her outburst is her nerves. She’s worried about me. Paranoid, panicky.

The best way to soothe her concerns is to tell her what she wants to know.

She’s earned that right in spades.

“Polish mafia headquarters,” I tell her.

“And how many men are you taking with you?” she demands.

I suppress a smile. If something happened to me, I’m fairly certain that Esme could take control of the Bratva and lead it capably until my son comes of age.

Whether she sees it or not, she has the strength and the intelligence for it.

“A dozen,” Adrik answers for me.

“That’s it?” she says.

I smile. “Babe,” I say. “I’ve got this.”

“You have to be careful,” she lectures sternly. “What if Budimir has got to the Polish gang already? What if you walk into a trap?”

“We’ve weighed the risks—”

“That doesn’t mean you’ve eliminated them,” she counters.

I walk forward and take both her hands in mine, forcing her to look me in the eye. “I know you’re worried,” I say. “But you don’t have to be. I know what I’m doing. I’ve done this a few times before.”

“You had the might of the Bratva behind you at the time,” she points out. “Now, that force backs your uncle.”

“All true,” I agree. “But every one of my men are worth ten of Budimir’s.”

She shakes her head and mumbles something that sounds a lot like “Ugh, men.”

“Trust me, Esme,” I tell her. “I’m not taking any unnecessary risks. Not when I have you and Phoenix to think of.”

She sighs deeply and pulls her hands out of mine.

“You better come back without a scratch tonight, Artem Kovalyov,” she says. “Or else I’ll kill you.”

I smile. “I might make a mafia wife out of you yet, Esme Moreno.”

“The name is Esme Kovalyov,” she says instantly.

I shiver at the way she says that. My cock stiffens, too.

Yes, my wife has fire aplenty.

“How could I forget?” I say, unable to keep from grinning ear-to-ear.

She’s about to lean in and kiss me when a piercing cry carries through to us.

“Phoenix,” Esme says hurriedly. She darts into his room to check on him.

When she’s gone, Adrik looks at me with raised eyebrows, waiting for orders.

“Go round up our men,” I tell him. “We’re leaving in five.”

He nods and leaves the apartment, while I hang back. The moment the door shuts behind him, I move to the half open door and watch as Esme picks Phoenix up and rocks him gently from side to side.

“You’re okay, little bird,” she says. “You’re okay.”

“Esme?”

She turns to me.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

She nods solemnly. “You better.”

I give her a wink and head out the door.

The car’s waiting for me downstairs. The rest of my men will meet us on the road about a mile out from the Polish facilities.

And then, the games will begin.

Twenty minutes later, I see three black SUV’s fall into line behind us. My entourage is complete, and yet, something is missing. I realize with a painful jolt that something will always be missing.

Cillian.

He should be here, driving the car while I coordinate with the rest of the team.

I glance towards Adrik. He’s a loyal man and a strong fighter. So is Maxim. So are all the men who have pledged their loyalty to me.

But it doesn’t matter.

My history with them is surface deep when I compare it with the friendship I had with Cillian.

I wonder if that loss will ever stop hurting.

We park right in front of the safehouse, a surprisingly unimpressive building for a mafia faction that has been active and influential for a few decades now.

I’m the first person out of the car, but the rest of my crew quickly follows. We’re all packing heat—a show of strength is necessary—but I’ve purposefully limited the number of men I’ve brought with me to avoid the appearance of a direct assault.

But some fear may be necessary.

I just need to toe the line.

I’ve come here for a conversation, a possible alliance, not a fight. If I’d brought any more men, that’s the way our presence might be construed.

My men stand back, waiting for me to take the lead or issue an order. I don’t say a word. I just stride towards the headquarters gates as my men fall in line behind me.

There are four men at the gates. They get to their feet as we approach, their expressions wary, but I keep my body language casual.

“Excuse me, boys,” I say. “I have an appointment with your boss.”

They nod humorlessly and open the gates. We flow inside.

There are more men in the courtyard who glance up as we enter, but I breeze