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

“Let her walk in. We’ll show her a thing or two.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “We’ve had this conversation before—you cannot grope me in front of the nanny. It took her a week to look me in the eye the last time she walked in on you pawing at me like a horny teenager.”

“That was her fault,” I point out. “She was the one who just pranced into our private quarters.”

“If I recall, it was the main sitting room.”

“Still my house.”

Esme laughs and shakes her head at me. “Some things never change.”

She turns her attention to our son in my arms. He’s playing with my lapel, little fingers grasping and tugging.

“Doesn’t he look amazing?” she asks.

“He always does,” I reply. “As do you, my beauty.”

“Ah-hem!”

I turn to see Talia standing awkwardly by the trellis partition.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she says with a blush.

“You didn’t, Talia,” Esme stammers quickly. “Why don’t you take Phoenix for a walk…? Once the party gets going, I’d prefer him to stay in here.”

“Of course, Mrs. Kovalyov,” she says.

I see Esme’s nose scrunch up. She makes the same expression every time anyone addresses her in a remotely formal way.

Svetlana is the only one who’s comfortable addressing Esme by name, and that’s mostly because the two of them have formed a close friendship in the last few months.

Talia’s wearing nicer clothes today. She’s dressed in black pants and a white blouse. She’s even put her hair up in a tasteful chignon.

She still looks uncomfortable as hell though, but that probably has more to do with me than what she’s wearing.

She’s in her early twenties and came highly recommended. But the deciding factor was the fact that Esme warmed to her immediately.

“I can trust her with my son.”

That’s what Esme had said after our second interview with her. I felt the same.

I watch as Talia scoops Phoenix up in her arms and exits the room quickly. The moment we’re alone, I grab my wife and press my lips down on hers.

“Boy,” she gasps, when I pull back, “you don’t waste any time, do you?”

“You dress like that and expect me to keep my hands to myself?” I ask. “Keep dreaming, woman.”

I find her mouth again, and her lips part for me immediately. I push her up against the nearest wall and my hand starts sliding up her dress—just as I hear the click of the door on the other side of the room.

“Fuck,” I growl, just as Esme pushes me away from her and adjusts the skirt of her dress. “Why didn’t I lock the fucking door?”

Esme suppresses a smile just as Svetlana appears between the trellis partition. “Sorry to disturb you two,” she says, a knowing twinkle in her eyes. “But we need you out there, boss. A line is starting to form already.”

“Today is invited guests only,” I say impatiently. “Tell the rest to fuck off and come back tomorrow.”

“He’s a real people person, isn’t he?” Esme teases.

“Such a charmer,” Svetlana chimes in.

I roll my eyes as the two of them laugh at my expense. Maybe I’m not such a fan of this friendship after all. Two against one is unfair odds.

“Shall we, husband?” Esme asks, extending her hand out to me.

I take her hand, a swell of pride rising inside me.

I’ve accomplished a lot in the last six months. I’ve taken back the Bratva, saved my father’s legacy, and established my own at the same time.

But none of that accounts for the pride I’m feeling right now.

That’s all about the woman standing next to me.

“We came a long way to get here, Artem,” Kian says, his gaze constantly flickering around the club like he’s still sizing it up. “But I’m impressed with how you’ve handled things.”

I just smile impassively. “When do you intend to return to Ireland?” I ask.

“In three days,” he replies. “So I’ll be back here at least one more time before my flight.”

“You are welcome anytime, my friend.”

Kian looks around at the wide range of different crime families that fill the lounges in the VIP section.

He’s stuck around for longer than I ever could have asked. He and his men have been invaluable in cleaning up Budimir’s many messes.

“And apparently I’m not the only one,” he chuckles.

“Being the don is not just about throwing your weight and watching the ants scatter to the wind. Diplomacy is needed. Intelligence is needed. Brute force is never enough to hold power. In short—I like having friends.”

Echoing my father’s words does strange things to my heart in my chest. It feels like not so long ago that he was saying them to me himself.

But they feel right on my lips. His crown feels right on my head.

I’m where I belong.

“Wise words,” Kian says with an inclination of his head.

His blue eyes are alert as he gives the room another once over. He’ll be don one day, whenever Ronan decides to step aside.

That doesn’t look like it was going to happen anytime soon. Ronan might be getting along in years, but the man is made of steel.

I’m sure he’ll live well into his nineties and until then, he will hold on to power.

But that’s fine with me.

Kian’s time will come. And for now, we are friends, allies, equals. It’s a good relationship between my Bratva and his.

One that I intend to maintain.

His parents couldn’t make it tonight, but they sent a bouquet of flowers to congratulate me on the opening of the club.

The note in the arrangement said, “To a friend—With love, the O’Sullivans.”

It was written in a looping female handwriting.

Sinead, no doubt.

Kian sees one of his lieutenants enter and excuses himself to greet the man. I take the opportunity to walk out of the VIP area towards my personal quarters.

It’s past one, but the night has only just begun for many still here. The only thing I want, however, is my wife.

“Esme,” I say softly,.

All is quiet, so I move deeper into the room, but Phoenix’s cot is empty.