Crown of Hate (Soulless Empire)

Chapter 4

4

MIKHAIL

“We’re… what?” Alya’s jaw drops, those hazel eyes balloon to saucers, as if I’ve just told her the world’s ending. Which, for her, it might as well be.

Christ, how did such a pretty thing come from such a repulsive bastard? There’s something about her that’s downright intoxicating.

From what I’ve been able to gather, she’s only twenty-three—a whole decade younger than me. Which not only makes her notably young, but also less experienced than the women I usually go for.

But holy hell, she’s a spitfire. Reckless. Quick to speak. Shy yet brazen. Her tongue hides and snaps all at the same time. Fuck. I wonder what else that mouth can do…

A groan escapes my throat as I picture her lush lips wrapped around my cock. This girl is driving me to the brink of insanity.

“I made a decision,” I growl, yanking my thoughts back on track. “I’ll marry you just as Akim suggested. But on my terms, not his.”

She’s still gaping at me. “You’re insane. This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking, malyshka .”

She flinches at the nickname, but quickly rallies. “You can’t just decide we’re getting married. That’s not how it works!”

I lean in close, enjoying the way she shrinks back. “In my world, it is.”

“Why the hell would you want that?”

I chuckle. “Oh, malyshka, if you could see inside my mind right now…”

Her cheeks flare crimson as if she knows exactly what I mean. “You’re such a perv.”

“You have no idea.” I angle myself over her. “I’ve thought of all the ways I can fuck you, Alya. I can have you pinned against the wall, flipped over my bed, or better yet, riding me like a cowgirl.”

Her hand flies to my chest, and for a heartbeat, I think she’s trying to push me away. But then she grabs my shirt and yanks me closer. “That’s all you’ve got? Wall, doggy, and cowgirl? Sounds like vanilla bullshit to me.”

“Oh really?” My fingers trail her thighs, relishing her tiny gasp as I slide my hand between them. “How about I spread those pretty legs and bury my face between them, right here, right now?”

She swallows hard, her throat bobbing. “I-I’ve had better.”

“Liar.” I nestle my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent before trailing kisses along her soft skin. She shivers when I lick the lobe of her ear. “When I’m done with you, there’ll be no more lies. You'll never want another man, malyshka . You’ll be screaming my name. That’s a promise.”

She’s panting now, teetering on the edge of control. Right where I want her.

“Dream on,” she whispers, but her voice wavers. “You’ll never get that chance.”

“There you go, lying again,” I whisper back. “Bet you're dripping wet right now. So turned on it hurts.”

I know because I’m in that same boat. My swollen cock is straining painfully against my slacks, begging to be freed.

“Get off me.” But as she says it, her hand finds my bulge, cupping it deliberately.

A guttural sound rips from somewhere deep inside as waves of relentless pleasure crash over me. Fuuuuck…

“Looks like you need me more than I need you,” she taunts.

Before I can retaliate, our car screeches to a halt. I glance out of the window and see my mansion looming before us. Ride’s over. Damn shame.

Pulling away, Alya shoves the door open, sneering at me as she climbs out.

Little. Minx.

I wait for my erection to partially subside before joining her.

“You can’t keep me here, Mikhail,” she says. “It won’t look good when the cops come knocking.”

I bite back a smirk. “The cops work for Ilya, sweetheart. They won’t come knocking unless I personally invite them over.”

Alya winces, then changes her tone. “Look, you’ve had your fun, but my mom is sick. I can’t just leave her. She’ll freak out if I don’t come home.”

For a split second, I almost feel a twinge of guilt—that is until I remember who that woman was married to.

“You will have phone privileges… occasionally.”

“And if I want to see her in person?”

I cup the back of her head, forcing her to look up at me. “There’s no time for that. When you speak to her, you’ll be a good girl and tell her you’ve found true love.”

She spits at my feet, eyes blazing. “I’d rather die than spew that bullshit.”

A laugh rips through me. “Welcome to hell, malyshka .” I grab her hand and drag her along with me.

Just as arranged, Alya’s new personal maid is already standing at the door, waiting for her. “Welcome, Ms. Varkov.”

Alya shoots me a confused look.

“Louisa, your personal maid,” I explain. “She’ll be taking care of you from now on.”

“This is fucking ridiculous. I’m not a child,” she snaps. “First, you strip me of my freedom, and now you’re giving me a glorified babysitter? Are fucking kidding me?”

“She’s not a babysitter. She’s here to assist you with whatever you need.” I nod to Louisa. “Show her to her room and get her something to eat.”

Alya hesitates, so I fix her with the kind of glare that usually puts men in the grave. She doesn’t keel over, but she does seem to realize that there’s no use resisting. This is happening.

“Fuck you,” she seethes.

I just watch, amused, as she reluctantly follows Louisa up the flight of stairs.

They’ve barely disappeared when Semyon walks into the foyer. “Can I have a word?”

I nod and lead the way to my study.

The second the door clicks shut, he rounds on me, “Just one question: what the hell are you doing?”

“Settling down.”

“I don’t trust that girl.”

I plop down on the couch across my desk and cross my legs. “She’s my future wife, not yours. Your trust is irrelevant.”

Semyon’s face contorts, looking like he’s trying to contemplate whether to argue more or give up. He chooses wisely. “When Akim finds out about this… fuck, it could mean all-out war. Why not just follow his original proposal?”

“We’re already at war,” I counter. “This is just the cherry on a bloody sundae. That bastard needs to get the message that peace is off the table until he returns what’s mine.

Semyon paces like a caged animal before finally collapsing beside me. “And the girl? What happens to her when all this is over?”

Truth is, I haven’t planned that far ahead yet. Women usually bore me within a week. But Alya… she’s different. This isn’t just a fling. This is strategy. This is war.

And I fucking love war.

“If she proves entertaining, I might keep her.” I spring to my feet and walk to the minibar at the corner of my office. There, I grab a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses. “She’s just a chess piece, Semyon. A useful pawn I’ll transform into a queen. Her father’s name still carries weight. I’ll use her to crush that weight, along with anyone else who gets in my way.”

Returning to the couch, I pour us each a shot.

He downs his in one swig. “How?”

“Beating Boris and Akim doesn’t mean winning the war. That’s just the opening move. Then, I’ll have to earn my men’s loyalty.” I take a sip of my drink, wincing as the liquid fire scorches my throat. “Marrying Vladmir’s only daughter gives me a legitimate right to the throne.” I shrug. “But if that doesn’t work, then bloodshed will.”

Semyon reaches for the tequila bottle. “Ilya won’t like this one bit.”

“Ilya can focus on things in Chicago. That’s his turf now. I’ll help where I can, but my eyes are on Russia. I want what I left behind. I need it back. I’ve never hidden my true focus from him.” I swirl my drink, lost in thought.

I talk a big game, but the truth is, I will consult with Ilya… eventually. Not because he’s some big, powerful mob boss, but because he’s my best friend. Because he’s married to my little sister, Kira. They deserve an explanation, even if they both owe me a favor after I rushed back to Chicago after all those years just to save their asses.

If they hadn’t been in trouble, I’d still be ruling the Russian underworld.

I won’t rest until I have the best of both worlds.

“Anything else?” I grunt.

Semyon opens his mouth to say something but stops himself. Instead, he takes another gulp of his drink and slams the empty shot glass on the coffee table. But then it comes out anyway. “That girl will never be your perfect little wife, Mikhail. She’s not docile. She’s not loyal. She’ll run off to Akim first chance she gets.”

My eyes narrow to slits. “That’s for me to worry about. You just focus on figuring out a way for us to break Boris’s grip on his soldiers.”

He nods. “Anything specific you need?”

“A list of all his trusted allies,” I say. “I need to know who to break first. If his own men turn against him, infiltrating his territory will be child’s play.”

“If they can betray him, they can betray you too,” he warns. “You can’t trust them.”

I chuckle. Trust. That word doesn’t exist in the underworld. Anyone can slide a knife into your back at any moment.

Those men turned their backs on me the second I left Russia. I’d be a fool to trust them again. “Fuck their trust. Their fear is all I need.”

“They may not want you as their leader if they fear you,” Semyon argues.

I rub my temple, irritation spiking. Of course, Semyon has always been the deep thinker, carefully strategizing before making a move. But me? I’m a starved animal. I’ll pounce on my prey without hesitation.

I didn’t become the Pakhan by being careful. The only thing men in our world truly fear is a madman, and I’m becoming just that. “Maybe not, but they’ll need me if they want to keep their heads.”

Semyon simply shrugs and rises to his feet. “I’ll dig up what I can.”

“Good.”

After he leaves, I call Alexei. He was my second-in-command back in Russia and followed me to Chicago after my hasty return.

It rings once before he answers. “Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting.”

“ Dah. I’ve been busy,” I reply curtly.

He knows I wouldn’t call without good reason. So, he asks, “What do you need?”

“A priest. Tonight.”

“A priest,” he echoes, his tone filled with sarcasm. “Either you’re planning some serious bloodshed, or you’ve found yourself a bride.”

“Perceptive as ever. I’m getting married, Alexei… to Vladimir’s daughter.” A smile curves my lips at the mention of Alya. I wonder if she’s in her room right now, seething over the fact that she’ll be a bride in a matter of hours.

Silence stretches on the other end. I can practically taste Alexei’s disapproval, but he knows better than to voice it. Only Semyon dares to share his true thoughts with me. It’s what I respect most about him, even if it sometimes makes me want to rip his tongue out.

“I’ll get a priest ready,” Alexei finally says.

“You should be here too.”

“Of course, Pakhan. You’re getting married. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

I end the call and toss my phone onto the table.

Running a hand through my hair, I decide it’s time to pay my bride-to-be a visit before our big night. Fill her in on what to expect from it.

A wicked smirk plays on my lips.

She’ll put up one hell of a fight.

And I’m more than ready for it.