Deadly Vows (Avilov Bratva #2)

9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Aleksandr

Talia’s return felt like a whisper of warmth in the cold expanse of the mansion. It seemed emptier without her presence, shedding light on how much she had come to mean to me. Yet, as always, I wouldn’t tell her that.

The life I led demanded a certain distance, a coldness that could not be penetrated by sentiment or weakness. Even as Talia’s footsteps echoed through the grand hallway, I kept my composure. I had been waiting, though I would never admit it.

“Good morning,” she said softly, her voice carrying the warmth of home.

“Good morning,” I replied, my tone neutral. “How was your stay with Sandy?”

“Good. It was nice to catch up,” she said, a hint of hesitation in her voice. She looked at me, searching for any sign of emotion, but I gave her none. “How are the children?”

“They missed you, but they are well.” I stood up from the sofa and folded the newspaper I was perusing. “Breakfast is ready in the kitchen. I need to make a few calls.”

She nodded, disappointment painting her face. She went toward the kitchen while I headed to my office. The door closed behind me with a soft click, and I was once again enveloped in the cold, calculating world I had built for myself. I only wanted to feel Talia in my arms, her plump lips against mine. I wanted to kiss her pregnant belly and make love to her as we wasted the day away in the warmth of my bed.

But that was not the future that awaited me. Vic had disappeared, slipping into the shadows like a ghost. My vors and the Yakuza were scouring the city for any trace of him, but he had gone underground. Not only was I hunting him, but his boss, Tommy, was also on his trail. Vic had made the fatal mistake of stealing from the Lupani family, and he would pay it back with his blood. He was a marked man from all sides.

Frustration gnawed at me. He continued to elude me, and each day that passed without finding him was another day of rage simmering just under the surface. I needed a distraction to take my mind off the relentless hunt.

My thoughts turned to Talia. I exited my office and found her in the kitchen, finishing her breakfast.

“Talia,” I said, and she looked up, her eyes curious. “We are going out tonight.”

“Out?” she asked, surprised. “Where to?”

“A restaurant in the city. Just the two of us,” I replied, my tone leaving no room for argument.

She nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Alright. What time should I be ready?”

“Seven,” I said, already planning the evening in my mind.

The day passed in a blur of phone calls and meetings. As evening approached, I changed into a tailored charcoal grey suit, the familiar armor I wore as pakhan . Talia emerged from her room dressed in an elegant black dress, her chocolate brown hair cascading in soft waves. Her lips were ruby red, and her eyes sparkled with excitement.

“You look beautiful,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

“Thank you,” she replied, a pink blush coloring her cheeks.

After I helped her with her coat, I escorted her to my midnight blue Maserati. She slid into the passenger seat, admiring the luxurious leather seats.

“Nice car,” she smirked, clicking her seatbelt into place.

“I only take it out on special occasions.”

“Is this a special occasion?” she questioned, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“No,” I answered curtly, starting the car.

The drive to the restaurant was quiet, and the tension between us was palpable. I had rented out the entire place, a luxurious haven with dim lighting and a view of the city skyline. It was an extravagant gesture, one that I justified as necessary for our privacy and security. But deep down, I knew I wanted to spoil her. She was my woman, whether or not I said it out loud.

The staff greeted us and treated us with the utmost respect, knowing who I was. The chef himself came out to take our orders, promising a feast fit for royalty.

I leaned back in my plush chair, savoring the luxury of the restaurant’s ambiance. The soft lighting glowed overhead, and the tables were embellished with crisp white linens and simple floral arrangements. As the first course arrived, I watched Talia’s eyes widen with wonder. The velvety lobster bisque, garnished with a drizzle of truffle oil and a sprinkle of chive blossoms, elicited a gasp of delight from her. She dipped her spoon hesitantly, then closed her eyes, savoring each luxurious mouthful. The joy on her face was as intoxicating as the vintage champagne I was sipping, its bubbles dancing playfully in the crystal flutes.

The main course was a revelation – a perfectly seared filet mignon crowned with a decadent foie gras and black truffle reduction, accompanied by a medley of seasonal vegetables and a silky potato puree. I couldn’t help but smile as Talia marveled at the presentation, her usual modesty giving way to pure, unrestrained pleasure. She tasted each element with reverence, her expressions ranging from surprise to sheer bliss.

When she tried the rich, molten chocolate fondant for dessert, its luscious core spilling out like liquid gold, her delighted laughter filled the air. For me, the evening was a celebration not just of gourmet cuisine but of sharing this extraordinary experience with Talia and watching her embrace the new extravagance.

Talia’s laughter filled the room, and I was drawn to her in a way I hadn’t anticipated. For a moment, I allowed myself to forget the world outside and the hunt for Vic and enjoyed the evening with her. The food was exquisite, each dish a work of art, but it was nothing compared to Talia’s beauty. I considered how lucky I was that this extraordinary woman came into my life, and I knew I would never let her go.

“Tell me about your sister,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “I want to know more about her.”

Talia’s eyes brightened. “Sandy is the complete opposite of me. She’s spontaneous, adventurous, always looking for the next thrill.”

“And you? Do you join her on any of her adventures?” I asked, genuinely curious.

She shook her head, a wistful smile on her lips. “No. I was always the one who stayed behind, keeping things steady. But I lived vicariously through her stories.”

“I can see the appeal,” I admitted. “There are times when I wish I could just... escape.”

Talia looked at me, her eyes softening. “Everyone needs an escape now and then, Aleksandr. Even you.”

As the night drew to a close, I made a snap decision. Instead of returning to the mansion, I took Talia to my penthouse in the city. It was a place I rarely visited, a sanctuary away from the chaos of my life.

The city lights glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, sending a kaleidoscope of colors across the sleek modern furniture. Talia’s eyes widened as she stepped inside, her gaze sweeping over the minimalist decor, each piece meticulously chosen for its clean lines and sophistication. The leather sofas, plush velvet chairs, glass coffee table, and polished marble floor exuded an understated elegance. My collection of artworks adorned the walls, a blend of abstract strokes and vivid hues. The open space, bathed in the soft glow of recessed lighting, felt like a sanctuary above the bustling streets below.

As Talia moved closer to the windows, her reflection mingled with the cityscape beyond, creating an almost ethereal image. I watched her from the doorway, her presence adding warmth to the cold perfection of my home. She turned to me, her eyes shimmering with curiosity and desire. “Aleksandr, this place is incredible,” she breathed.

I smiled, stepping towards her, feeling the pull of her magnetism. “I thought we could use some privacy,” I replied, my voice dripping with desire.

We settled onto the white leather sofa, the city spread out like a glittering tapestry. There was comfort in the silence, a shared understanding that words were not always necessary.

“Why did you bring me here, Aleksandr?” Talia asked, chewing on her bottom lip.

I looked at her, the vulnerability in her eyes striking a chord deep within me. “Because I wanted to,” I said simply, the truth startling even me.

She nodded, accepting my answer without question. The distance between us seemed to shrink, and the barriers I had so carefully constructed were beginning to crumble.

We talked about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing naturally. It was a side of Talia I hadn’t seen before, open and unguarded. She told me stories of her childhood, dreams, and fears, and I shared parts of my life that I had long buried.

As the night wore on, the space between us disappeared entirely. I reached out, my hand finding hers, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of peace. The hunt for Vic, the vendetta that had consumed me, faded into the background. At that moment, it was just Talia and me, two souls seeking solace in each other.

“ Kiska ,“ I said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. “There are things I haven’t told you. Things about my past, about why I am the way I am.”

She turned to face me, her eyes filled with understanding. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Aleksandr. But if you want to, I’m here to listen.”

I took a deep breath. “My father...losing him, it changed me. Made me into someone I barely recognize.”

Talia squeezed my hand, her touch grounding me. “I’m so sorry, Aleksandr. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”

“It was,” I admitted, my voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t stop it. And then I had to become the pakhan the family needed. And when Vic murdered Mikhail and took you and the children...it brought all those feelings back. The fear, the anger, the helplessness.”

“But we escaped,” Talia said, her voice steady. “You came to get us, and we’re safe now. And I know you’ll protect us.”

We sat in silence, the city lights twinkling around us. I leaned in and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, full of unspoken desire, and when we pulled apart, I saw the same feelings reflected in her eyes.

“I don’t know what this is,” I said quietly. “But I want to find out.”

Talia smiled, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Me too.”