Deadly Vows (Avilov Bratva #2)

20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Aleksandr

There’s nothing like Talia’s sweet pussy on my mouth to start the morning off right. I pull her slick lips apart and gently stroke her slit with my tongue. She tilts her hips up, trying to get my tongue in deeper. My greedy kiska.

I go to work sucking, licking, swirling, and teasing, lost in her sweet taste. I slip two fingers into her pussy and clamp my mouth over her clit. I work her until she’s desperate for a release. She squirms under my hold, bucking her hips. I add a third finger and fuck her hard until she shatters.

Sitting back, I lick my lips, admiring her beauty. “Good morning,” I chuckle, watching her bask in the afterglow.

“Good morning,” she moans, rolling her nipple between her fingers.

Sliding off the bed, I entered the en suite bathroom and turned on the shower. Going back into the bedroom, I lifted Talia, wrapping her legs around my waist, and carried her into the bathroom. We stepped into the shower, adjusting the water temperature.

Under the warm spray, I stroked and soaped her down, gently washing her. I rubbed her breasts and pinched her nipples. Sliding my hand down over her navel, I landed on her pussy, sliding my finger between her folds.

“Mmm,” she moaned, pressing her hips into my hand.

Backing her against the tile, I hooked her left leg over my hip. Angling her just right, I slid my cock inside her pussy. I fucked her slowly, taking my time. Talia wrapped her arms around my neck, and I kissed her deeply while my cock slid in and out of her tight pussy. It didn’t take long for her release to hit, and mine followed soon after.

Stepping out of the shower, I dried her off with a fluffy towel and wrapped her in a robe. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching me dress.

“Will you be out long?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

“I’ll be home by dinner,” I replied, kissing her softly. “There’s a business matter I need to take care of.”

Kissing her one more time, I turned and left the bedroom, silently wishing I were fucking her instead.

The art gallery wasn’t just a business. It was a carefully constructed cover, clean and sterile, the kind of place that made people feel sophisticated while they dropped obscene amounts of money on overpriced canvases. A place where no one questioned why some of the pieces never sold or why specific buyers never bothered to pick up their purchases. Beneath the gallery’s polished surface, I moved millions in dirty money, stashed away drugs, and kept the bratva running.

When I stepped inside, the blonde woman at the front desk nodded. The gallery was empty this early in the morning, its pristine white walls and colorful paintings bathed in soft light. Everything about it was designed to keep people at ease, to hide the fact that beneath the art was an empire built on blood and fear.

As I walked past the main gallery, I saw one of my favorite pieces - a stark black-and-white portrait that seemed to gaze back at you, judging. It had always reminded me of how others saw me. An enigma. Cold, unreadable. I moved past it and headed for my office at the back of the gallery.

Adachi was already there when I walked in.

He stood near the desk, his lean frame turned toward one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the city skyline. He wasn’t admiring the view, though. Adachi never cared for distractions. He was dressed in one of his usual tailored suits, perfectly fitted, his dark hair slicked back meticulously. When he heard me enter, he turned, his sharp features lighting up with a smile.

“Aleksandr,” he greeted smoothly. “Right on time, as always.”

I didn’t bother with pleasantries. “You wanted to meet. I’m here.”

Adachi gave me one of those smiles that never quite reached his eyes, the kind that made you want to punch him. “Let’s talk business, shall we?”

I walked to the desk, lowering myself into the leather chair behind it. Adachi remained standing as if trying to establish some kind of power. Let him. The gallery was my territory, my empire. He might have had his fingers in many pies, but I made the rules here.

“It’s about Vic,” Adachi continued, his voice as smooth as ever.

He strolled around the room, his fingers lightly grazing the edge of one of the sculptures I kept for show. “Aleksandr, I did more than just find him. I had to dig through my network and pull some serious strings. I think we both know that kind of effort deserves a reward.”

There it was.

I leaned back in my chair, watching him. “You want more money.”

He turned to face me fully now, his hands clasped behind his back. “A little more of the business. Ten percent more. Think of it as a finder’s fee for delivering Vic.”

I stared at him momentarily, letting the request settle between us. Ten percent was too much. He knew it. I knew it. And yet, here he was, pushing for it. Mudak.

“Ten percent is too much,” I said evenly.

“You wouldn’t have found Vic without me,” Adachi countered, his tone still smooth.

“Five percent more is all you’ll get,” I said, my voice sharpening. I had half a mind to put a bullet in his head. But he has proven valuable, and having the Yakuza on my side was good for business.

Adachi’s eyes narrowed slightly. I could see the calculation behind his gaze. He wasn’t used to hearing ‘no’. But this was my territory. My money. He was useful, but I refused to be bled dry.

“I’m not asking for charity,” he said after a beat. “Seven percent. You know I’ve earned that.”

I paused, letting the silence drag out just enough to make him uncomfortable. I had to give him something - it was the game we played - but it was about control. About showing him that no matter what, I was in charge.

“Six percent,” I finally said. “And nothing more. You push again, and we’re done here.”

Adachi studied me for a moment longer, weighing his options. He wasn’t stupid enough to walk away, not when business was so profitable for him. His lips curled into a tight smile, his hand outstretched. “Six percent, then. A fair compromise.”

I didn’t smile as I took his hand, the grip firm but cold. “Good. Now we’re done.”

He nodded, the usual smoothness returning to his demeanor. Adachi turned and walked toward the door, pausing just before he left. “Aleksandr,” he said, looking back over his shoulder. “You should remember. In our world, loyalty is always negotiable.”

I watched him leave, the door closing softly behind him. The gallery was silent again, but his words lingered in the air.

I leaned back in my chair, staring out at the city. I gave him six percent today. But I knew, sooner or later, he’d want more. And that was a problem I’d deal with another day.